A/N: Hi there. I wrote this chapter and for some reason don't like it. I don't know why. Maybe you will? Tell me what you think, thanks.
Oh, one more thing, please forgive the lamentable broomstick description. I tried, but I suck.
Disclaimer: So yeah, not mine. Unless, I don't know, Ms Rowling decides to send me the rights in a lovely gift-wrapped package for my twenty-first birthday in November. No, she won't? Oh well, will have to get my own then.
*****
Chapter Ten
The morning of Christmas Eve I awoke to find a sheet of paper lying on my night table. As I rose to go to the bathroom, as reluctantly as the morning before but knowing that at this point my bladder was going to need surgical intervention if I ignored it any longer, my gaze happened to fall onto the tabletop. It was lying there as innocently as if belonged there, but it didn't, when I finally fell asleep the night before all that lay there was a bit of fake mistletoe. Without thinking I reached a hand and snatched up the paper, bended it towards the light and gasped.
It was a sketch, of me, sitting on a railing on the bridge looking out into the distance. I nearly dropped it in shock, but then I noticed a marking at the back of the paper and flipped it over. It read:
"Happy Christmas! I know you probably didn't get me anything but I could not resist getting something for you. We're friends now, aren't we?
Connor Lupin, with help from sister-to-be Zoe (she approved this one.)
I smiled, staring at the sketch a moment. It was so good it looked like a photograph; Connor had added so much detail I could see the Giant Squid splashing in the lake just over my shoulder and two tiny spiders crawling in the arch above my head. I had never known he was so talented. But before I could marvel at this further, I felt a stabbing pain in my lower abdomen and flew off the bed in the direction of the bathroom.
When I returned a short while after, feeling immensely relieved and a bit angry with myself for having that last cup of pumpkin juice, it was to find Kimberly sitting on my bed with the sketch in her hands. I nearly ran over to her to snatch it away.
"Hey!" she protested.
"That's not yours!" I told her.
She huffed and went over to sit on her own bed, arms folded. "`Just friends', eh? My friends don't send me sketches like that."
I looked over the paper wondering what she meant. In the drawing I was now joined by a large grey wolf, which would hop onto its hind legs so that I could reach down from the railing to scratch its ears. But clear as day in the marking of its fur along the side presented I could read his name, `Connor'. I burst out laughing, it was so cute and funny I couldn't help it. Kimberly though, had been waiting for this. She pounced, "You certainly don't react like that to anything Rigel's ever given you."
"Rigel can't draw," I said, dismissively, still looking over the drawing with a smile on my face.
She scoffed and said, "What are you giving Connor then? He sent you a nice sketch, so what does he get in return?" Then, with a sly smile, "Actually I have quite a few suggestions that you might...."
I tuned her out as I realised, with some astonishment, that she was right. Even though Connor had said that he wasn't expecting anything from me-given that we'd only just started speaking to each other this was understandable-but after this I just had to give him something in return. Then what should I give him? What did he like? I wasn't sure that I knew him well enough to get something that he would.
At this point Kimberly noticed that I wasn't paying her any attention. She attempted twice to draw me back to her, snapping her fingers before my face and then making a snatch for the sketch again. I jerked my head back and switched hands holding the sketch and shoved it away towards my pillow and she gave up.
I sat back on my bed staring off blankly for a long time, thinking. I'd learned quite a few things about him in the last week and a half. I knew that he read the comic book Úlfhéðnar, but he'd already gotten the volume and the last issue of the year last week, (something which undoubtedly had set his parents back a pretty penny). I knew that he liked wolves and werewolves, according to the OGB, but I didn't know what books on them he hadn't read and since this was learned by underhanded means I couldn't really use it. I could get him a sketch book or art set; he'd passed me and Rigel in the hall carrying one, but that one looked new, and now that I thought about it, also fairly expensive. I didn't have that many Galleons left over from Christmas shopping, but then I had to get him something.
I looked up out of my thoughts to find Kimberly digging through her trunk, clutching a bathrobe round herself and asking, "Have you seen my jumper? Or can I borrow one of yours, because if it's not here it means that they're all in the wash...."
I suddenly had an idea. Not bothering to answer-moments later she'd find her own jumper anyway, at the bottom of her messy trunk-I dug through the drawer of my night table for a sheet of paper and a quill. I knew what I wanted to get him, I'd seen it in Gladrags on our last Hogsmeade weekend but it was too small for Dad and too big for Milo. It would fit Connor perfectly, the woollen jumper striped in three different shades of grey with the white llama-fur embroidery of a wolf pack stalking the woods on a full moon. The pattern went right around the jumper too, but most of the pack was on the front, and there were cubs on the sleeves. If he wondered how I knew he had an interest in wolves I'd just tell him that Rigel had told me, and since they didn't speak, he'd never know. My only real concern was that Gladrags still had it and would be willing to stop everything and rush it over to the school in time for Christmas. If anything I hoped they would be swayed by my name, Rigel did have a point that it could be damned useful when you wanted it to be.
When that letter was done, describing the jumper in detail and the urgency of the situation, I wrote another to Flourish and Blotts in London requesting a copy of Hairy Snout, Human Heart. The idea came to me as a whim while I was writing for the jumper and I couldn't let it go. Then, both letters finished, sealed in envelopes and addressed, I hurried out of the dormitory, still in my pyjamas, heading up to the Owlery, stinky, smelly place that it was, to find a school owl to send them out.
I really needed to get my own owl, but since we had Oscar my parents had neglected to get me one. They were probably concerned that they could not monitor who was sending me mail, though they couldn't really now, but it would have at least spared me the freezing trek up to use a school owl.
It was only when I'd sent off the owls, two large tawny ones with bright amber eyes, that I noticed that I wasn't alone in the Owlery. Rigel was there, already dressed, in a corner with a large eagle owl, lazily stroking its feathers while attempting to retrieve its delivery, a letter that undoubtedly came from Grandmother. And when I stopped, surprised, to look at him he said, "Forgot quite a few things this morning, did we? You better hurry; last minute shopping usually means that all they have left isn't any good."
"Not when you know where to shop," I replied, and then looked down at myself. "Oops, that explains a few things."
He smiled and started over towards me, "I hope that wasn't my gift you were now sending out for."
"No it isn't, I've had yours for weeks, and since you can't come into the girls' dorms, you won't find out what it is until tomorrow," I replied, grinning smugly.
He looked intrigued, "What is it?"
"Do you really think I'd tell you that easily?" I asked.
"Well, yeah," he replied, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.
I shook my head and sighed, "You'll find out what it is tomorrow, like everybody else."
He continued to stare at me curiously for a while and then asked, "Is it something for Connor?"
I seized the opportunity, "Why did you tell Mrs Malfoy about Aunt Tonks' pregnancy?"
"What?" he asked trying, but failing miserably to look confused.
"You know `what'!" I snapped. "You told her and she found out Uncle Lupin was awake and told him. Why did you do that? That was something Aunt Tonks alone was supposed to tell Uncle Lupin, and in her own time! Who are you to interfere with that? What right did you have to interfere in their family business?"
He did not answer, but then steadfastly refused to look guilty. That just made me angrier. "Connor had every right to fight with you yesterday! I always thought that you were above that kind of nonsense, that you were nothing like your father's family really, but I guess I was wrong. You are just like them!"
Now it was his turn to be angry. "I'm nothing like my father, or Grandmother, and you know that! How can you stand there and accuse me of something like that? I would never, ever, ever go after someone without reason. Cousin Tonks endangered herself and that baby and didn't once think about how this affects Cousin Remus. How are they going to afford another baby, Magnolia? How are they supposed to give it all the things it will need, need, Magnolia, when they can barely do that for themselves on Cousin Tonks' salary and what Cousin Remus can scrape by whenever someone takes pity on him and gives him a job? She should have told him!"
His raised voice awoke many of the slumbering owls in their perches around us and they sat up screeching loudly, beating the air with their wings in protest. The noise was unimaginable, loose feathers, straw and dust rained down on us from above, making my nose itch, but I was too engaged in the argument to allow it to distract me.
"That is none of your business! How did they keep Connor? They'll manage, just like they did before! You had no right to get involved, none, and yet you did it anyway! And you know what; you are just like your father because he would have done the same thing to get back at someone he didn't like! How could you hate your cousin so much, because he frightened you when you were nine?"
"What?" he asked confused.
"He told me about that, he said that when you were nine he frightened you by morphing himself to look like a wolf. That's why you're upset with him, your cousin, your blood, over that?" I demanded.
He looked me directly in the eyes then, livid, and for the first time he managed to match his father's cold slate grey as he said, "I don't care about what happened when we were nine. I know he must have told you about that for it's guaranteed to get you on his side, but I've long moved beyond that incident. If you knew Connor like I know him you would not be so quick to take his side. If you knew him, if you really knew him, then you would understand why I'm so concerned about Cousin Remus."
What was with these two about me knowing them? Both insisted that I didn't really know the other and if I did `I would understand'. What the hell?
I'd had enough. With a frustrated scream that startled Rigel so much he jerked the eagle owl off his arm, I turned away and stormed out of the hot, noisy Owlery to the icy stairs. I wasn't getting involved anymore, I had breakfast to get to, a shower to take, gifts to wrap and a Duelling practice this evening to get ready for.
.
Much of Christmas Eve would go by quickly. When one spent the day out in the snow-under the watchful eyes of two Ministry-sent Aurors and Professor Flitwick-skating on the lake, engaging in snowball fights and building snowmen we each took turns destroying, time would fly. I almost could not believe it when Camilla appeared on the top of the steps and called, "Hey Lillie, let's go!"
Rigel, in the act of throwing a snowball at my head paused to ask, interestedly, "`Let's go'? Where are you two going?"
"Duelling practice," I replied, shaking off the snow on my robes and turning towards the castle.
"She's teaching y-let's go, faster than that young woman!" he said, dropping the snowball he'd been forming and coming up to me, began briskly pushing me up the three and a half-foot deep trench our classmates had cleared on their way out earlier.
At breakfast Rigel and I had made up, which basically consisted of him coming over and saying, "Why are you surprised I did this? You knew I was a prat when you befriended me, I was just being true to my nature." I replied dryly, "Yes, how could I have possibly forgotten. I don't forgive you, that's Connor's job-have cornflakes." He sat and soon we were speaking again as if nothing had happened. It was the way we made up most of the time, apart from those occasions where we simply forgot we were mad at each other, and it was aided considerably by the fact that Connor wasn't there.
But as we got to the top of the steps we received a shock. The OGB was back, standing there with the aforementioned Connor, and staring at us disapprovingly. Unfortunately, it would appear that my parents hadn't needed him for long. Rigel stopped pushing me immediately.
"Professor Snape, sir... y-you're back...." he stammered looking at him, clearly unsure of what to say.
The OGB replied flatly, "Yes, I am, and it was to learn that I was to head the detention for a student of mine, who, given his age and House should have known better. We do not condescend to the actions of Muggles."
Connor looked contemptuous at his side, looking everywhere but in my direction. Rigel was silent as well, having not responded to the OGB's scolding, but he did look across to me with an apology in his eyes.
That drew the OGB's to me then, "Run along, Miss Potter. Miss Longbottom is waiting for you in Professor Bones' office. I expect that you shall go there immediately?"
Like Rigel I did not reply, but at once swept past him and Connor into the castle heading for the grand staircase. As the door closed behind me I just caught him saying to Connor and Rigel again, "I have taught you both better than this, spoken a thousand times and yet you...."
I wasn't given time to mull over this statement though, for Camilla was awaiting me at the top of the stairs as I came in, and said when she spotted me, "Hurry up, I only have an hour free this afternoon." Then she turned and left me staring at her retreating back for a moment before following, thinking to myself as I went that it wouldn't take long before her attitude got on my nerves.
.
Camilla awaited me in the middle of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom as if she owned it. In a neatly pressed knee-length tweed skirt, knee-high black leather boots, an olive green jumper and her black school robes, she sat against the teacher's desk twirling her wand in her hand and staring, bored, out the window. In my fashionably-faded jeans and black-grey jumper I felt rather... well, plain.
She stood up as soon as I entered and said, "Professor Bones said that you're a fine duellist, but that you're easily distracted and have a tendency to react with your body rather than your wand. I don't know how to break this to you gently, but you're a witch, you have to start acting like one. If someone sends a Stinging Hex your way you respond by blocking or deflecting it and sending them a lovely set of boils for their trouble. You don't duck unless it's something you can't block like the Killing Curse or the Cruciatus."
She'd said all this with the air of someone used to doing it all the time. I nodded and she continued, "Professor Bones also said that you have a tendency to close your eyes when you attack. Don't ever let anyone catch you doing that, your father is Harry Potter. They won't laugh at him, they'll laugh at you."
Embarrassed already I dropped my gaze, but she spoke sharply, "Look up!" I did as I was told, just as she raised her wand and banished the desks across the classroom, giving us room to practice. Then she said, "We're duelling at twenty paces, remember what I said, don't duck if it's something you can deflect or block, don't close your eyes and do not under any circumstances give your opponent reason to believe that you are weak. Let's go."
As I walked to the other end of the classroom, trying my best to remember her rules at once and also that this was serious business, I wondered who taught Camilla to duel like this. The Duelling Club was one thing, but her father, no matter the changes he made in the war, was nowhere near something like this. I'd never seen him duel personally, but the way he spoke sometimes, it was easy to get the idea that he could not do it well.
At twenty paces apart we turned to face each other, bowed and stood to fight. Before I even got the first word out Camilla sent me flying back into the door while my wand skittered away across the floor. Thankfully I dropped before I hit the door and Camilla called from the head of the classroom, "Too slow, Lillie!"
I glared up at her. "Too slow, I'm a Third Year, not a Sixth, what are you trying to do to me?"
That argument was not going to work on her. She rolled her eyes, "Your father could duel better than that in his Second. You're just lazy. Get up, get your wand and let's do this again."
I got up trying to suppress my annoyance, and retrieved my wand. Once we stood twenty paces apart again she said, "On three. One... two... three! Expelliarmus!"
Clinging tightly to my wand I called in kind, "Expelliarmus!"
There was a tense moment where we both stood clutching wands that vibrated furiously, and then she said, "Good, better than last time. But a First Year could do better than that, is your father really Harry Potter?"
I bit back a snappy retort, we raised our wands again and before she could act I called, "Langlock!"
It was a good thing I remembered that one from Connor, but to my surprise Camilla waved her wand anyway and I was suddenly struggling against invisible binds on the ground. Then she ended the spell on herself and freed me to say, "You're a quick learner. Good one, but you're reacting on emotion. If you'd used that from the beginning I wouldn't have caught you just now. Let's go again."
Swallowing a groan I stood and walked back to my place.
.
I don't know why my legs took me to the Library after practice with Camilla, I had a raging appetite and once again every muscle in my body was on fire, but somehow I ended up there, sitting at a window staring out into the cold dark night. Even here there was a buzz of muted excitement, in a few hours it would Christmas and by dawn's light we'd all be waking to our gifts, nestled at the feet of our beds and a day of feasting and cheer. It was the best day of the year, the best time to me personally, and for the first time that I could remember, I wasn't going to spend it with my family. Somebody was going to have to make up for this on my birthday, big time.
As was the story of my life for days now though, I wasn't to be alone for long.
With no small measure of surprise someone said, "Magnolia...? It's dinner time, do I have to remind you again...? Are you alright?"
I looked up to see Connor standing there with his sketch pad and chalk and a puzzled look on his face. I smiled, he relaxed uneasily, the slightest slackening of his furrowed brow, and I said, "I don't know why I came in here really, I'm hungry and in need of a shower, but I can't bring myself to do either."
"Oh?" he said, setting down his load and sitting beside me. "Camilla didn't hurt you, did she?"
When I turned to him baffled, he said, "She once made this Seventh Year who somehow got her to tutor him, cry. Nearly broke his arm too in the duel, and to this day he still sends her a greeting card every Christmas and on her birthday."
"Really?" I asked feeling worried.
He smiled, "She's scary, but she's good. I was just-"
Fearing that he thought I couldn't hold my own in a fight, I cut in, "I won a few actually, but she said I'm lazy and that I act like a Muggle and a coward."
Eyebrows disappeared into fringe, "She called you a coward?"
"No, but it was implied. I'm `Harry Potter's daughter', everyone's been reminding me, but I can't duel to save my life, can't play Quidditch with the worst of them and now somebody's trying to kill me." It was with surprise that I felt the emotion in my voice, the weight of my tongue and the thickness in my throat. I cleared it, trying not to cry, wondering why I wanted to cry, and then was further surprised when Connor suddenly put his arms around me and drew me into him. I refused to cry now, I wasn't going to, but I made no attempt to pull away from him and neither did he.
It was an awkward embrace really, anywhere that he touched me then was aflame and we both seemed to want to put as much distance as possible between each other, while still hugging, but I would not let him go. I rested my head on his shoulder and stared absently off, across the table I sat at, to and through the shelves opposite and then to a row of books over on the other side. Connor had rested his head on my shoulder too, but then suddenly sat up away from me and said, "Let's go get you clean and fed."
I arched an eyebrow, suspicious, "Wait, what? I smell worse than last night?"
He grinned, "No... let's just go, I'm hungry too." And then without waiting for me to answer he stood, gathered up his things, nervously scattering a few sheets, some of which had been neatly ruled around the edges and then separated into uneven panels, and reached a hand to help me up. I took up a stray sheet that had a comic-like drawing of a wolf on it and handed it to him, and then followed him out of the library.
*****
Christmas morning I was awoken by an excited shriek. Well that meant that Kimberly was up and had seen her stuff, I thought and snuggled back into my bed. And then I shot upright and looked excitedly to the foot of my bed. It was Christmas morning and my gifts were here at last!
Like a child I immediately scampered round to the trunk where nearly twenty carefully gift-wrapped boxes lay, spilling over to the floor, from my family, friends and a number of my father's fans. I didn't know which one to attack first, and apparently neither did Kimberly, who'd received a noticeably smaller pile, but was staring across at me with a bright smile on her face.
It was her smile that made me go for my parents' gifts. Silly as it was, embarrassment would have kept me from even looking at them if she hadn't.
My father's gift lay neatly at the top of the pile. I didn't wait to start tearing off the paper on the long, narrow box, but when I did I was forced to stop looking at it confused. My father, knowing full well that I wasn't very good at Quidditch and because of that didn't need one, had sent me a broom. I blinked a few times, staring at it shocked, and even more so when I saw the gold inscription at the top, "Quasar Mach I".
It was the latest limited edition production of the company that had made my father's Firebolt, and judging from the serial number "0001", it was the first of the lot, delivered to my father on request. (There had been a waiting list for well over a year now, but if Harry Potter wanted something in magical Britain immediately, Harry Potter was going to get it.) It was called the Quasar Mach I, for this was supposedly its maximum speed (though no one believed it because no one would ever be crazy enough to travel that fast, or simply could) and it could accelerate to nearly two hundred miles per hour in ten seconds. Made of ash like the Firebolt, it was fitted with more or less the same protective charms and features, but a supposed added bonus was a special charm that made it partly-sentient and so able to protect the rider on its own. Many who'd seen it in action claimed that though useful the feature was probably a cheating tool, a factor that had thus far kept it out of official Quidditch matches.
I stared at it open-mouthed for a while, and then turned to my mother's gift.
This was in a large rectangular box with holes punched in the side and on the top and had made its presence known long before I got to it. It hooted. I nearly upended the new broom in my haste to open it; my mother had gotten me an owl. It was like Uncle Ron's Pigwidgeon, a rusty-red and snow white pygmy owl with bright amber eyes. And as soon as I opened the box it flew out, encircled my head twice and then landed quietly on my shoulder and pecked at my hair. I laughed out loud, delighted, and it nearly fell over.
Kimberly had looked across at this point, now sporting a new jacket and squeaked, "You got your owl! Oh, oh, OH! You got a broom! The Quasar Mach I?"
She dashed over to inspect it, and I let her to it while I returned my attentions to my gift pile. Grandpa and Granny had indeed sent what Milo said they would, a moss green winter cloak with large pockets and a hood, and a mystery novel. He and Mackenzie surprised me by sending me sweets. The Minister of Magic had sent a signed Christmas card, Grandma Weasley sent a jumper and her children had all sent gifts that were merely upgraded versions of their usual things, clothes and prank supplies. But it was Rigel's gift I was going for, and like he'd said it was not cheap.
Mrs Malfoy, perhaps believing that Rigel was buying something for Bijou, had sent me a set of three journals, expensive, carefully-aged parchment, gilt on the edges, bound in dragon-hide and inscribed with gold. There were seven quills packed neatly with them, of the rarest eagle feather, twelve bottles of ink, and solid gold quill stand, on which had been inscribed my name. This alarmed me for a moment until I realised that it must have been charmed to present the name of the owner the moment it arrived in their hands. I found myself grinning stupidly then, that was a very clever, as well as very mean little trick. Poor Grandmother when she found out that she hadn't bought a gift for Bijou. I would gladly give up every Galleon I had to see her face.
Kimberly was admiring it too, and said, "I take back what I said yesterday, no wonder you don't react funny to Rigel's gifts, his stuff is better!"
I shut the box in her face. Affronted, she asked, "What did you get him?"
"Beater protective equipment, from Quality Quidditch Supplies... and he better like it because I know Grandmother's already bought him everything he could ever want this year," I replied, and then took a moment to marvel to myself at the way I'd said `Grandmother'. For a moment it sounded just the way Connor would say it.
"Oh, you're cheap, what'd you get Connor?" she asked, flopping down onto my bed, still staring at my new broom.
"A jumper... and a book..." I replied, slowly, grimacing as I realised how it would sound.
As predicted Kimberly snorted and laughed, "You're really cheap!" Then she summoned something from the bed, grinning as I glared at her, and said, handing it over, "Happy Christmas, Lillie!"
It was a bottle of Sleekeasy's hair styling solution. I nearly hit her as I threw it back at her head.
.
When at last I found my way down to the Common Room, my new, as yet unnamed owl neatly hidden in my robe pockets, I looked around hoping that Connor hadn't gone down to breakfast yet. He found me first, also coming down from the boys' dormitory for breakfast; he called across when he saw me, "Happy Christmas!"
"Happy Christmas, Connor!" I called, back smiling. And it was a bright one too, just as I suspected, the jumper fit him perfectly, and just a little too well for it made his second-hand jeans look much older than they probably were.
He came over to me with a grin, "You didn't have to get me anything, you know, and especially not something this... well, you know...."
My embarrassment returned, and I shook my head, "No, I had to. My grandmother would be furious if I didn't."
He smiled, shook his head at me, and then lifted the book, "And this?"
I grinned now and said, "Well, it was a theme I was going for... wolf jumper, werewolf book...."
"Thank you very much, Maggie," he replied, quietly. Then noticing that we were being watched, for the few other Gryffindors present had been observing us intently since we first called to each other, he asked, "Do you want to go down for breakfast? Were you going?"
I nodded, "Want to see what everyone else's gotten, and I have to write my parents a `thank-you' letter, how I'll get it to them I'll never know."
We headed out through the portrait hole then, and once on the other side and on our way to the stairs, Connor asked, "What'd you get from everyone else?"
I caught a hint of a mischievous smile in his eyes, and replied, "Well, after that sketch-very nice by the way-I got a cloak from my grandmother, a mystery novel by a Muggle-born former Auror from my grandfather, an owl, here"-I opened my cloak pocket to show him the little owl sitting quietly in there, he looked in, surprised, and then laughed loudly-"a jumper from Mrs Weasley, the usual from the others, sweets from my darling sibling, oh joy, and, of all things, a broom from my father."
He lifted both eyebrows, "A broom?"
"A Quasar Mach I, I think my Dad's forgotten I stink at Quidditch," I replied. "What'd you get?"
As soon as I asked I regretted it, but he answered at once, "Another art kit, the one I've got is nearly through, and Mum says that in addition to the baby's room, they've arranged it so I can have an actual studio in the house."
I tried not to sound too astounded when I said, "Really?"
If he noticed he did not comment, but replied, "Yeah, and my Dad-who's home now, by the way-gave me a book by that same author, Taliesin Rhys-Hussey?" I nodded. "Yeah, him, his first novel, really battered, pages torn, called Dark. His latest is going to be called DEATH EATER, all capitals. And there are rumours of my own broom; it will probably be something worse than these wonky school brooms, so I'm trying not to get my hopes up."
I grinned when I saw him smile, and then he asked, "So what did you get from Rigel? I noticed you didn't mention it."
There was a reason for that, but he didn't seem to mind, so I replied, "A journal set purchased by Grandmother. It's so expensive I'm afraid to touch it."
"And what did you get him?" he asked.
"Quidditch supplies," I replied, thinking, again, that compared to his gift mine was crud.
Connor smiled though and said, "Well that's much better than what I got him: detention."
Down in the Great Hall at last I quickly spotted Rigel among his Housemates trying out the various pieces of equipment I'd gotten him. Doing his best to pretend that Connor wasn't beside me, he smiled at me and mouthed, "Did-you-like-it?"
I nodded, and he went back to his Housemates. Beside him Bijou looked rather put out. Oh well.
At the Gryffindor table I took a seat opposite Connor and exchanged greetings with those closest to us. Under the dust-fine snowfall of the enchanted ceiling, surrounded by the many Christmas trees, baubles, candles, bells and other festive decorations, and then the wrapping paper of discarded gifts, people still in their sleeping clothes and excited chatter going over the tables, I found that I didn't really miss not having my parents around as much. How could I when everyone else was so light and cheery that they just had each other, their gifts and not a trouble in the world? Even the OGB, one of the few teachers present including Professors Bones, Flitwick and Trelawney, seemed brighter than usual. He turned to look my way then, just as a cloud outside cleared out of the path of the sun and brought a shaft of light down over the Head table. It didn't brighten his appearance, his eyes were black, not even the most fleeting hint of brown, and I turned away back to Connor.
But at that moment something fell out of the sky and landed onto the table before me, sending feathers, gift paper and stray crackers scattering. When its hooting and flapping settled I realised that it was Oscar with a belated Christmas delivery.
Connor laughed over the table, "What's wrong with your owl?"
I shook my head, "Nothing, but he probably got into some eggnog. I believe Mum will have Uncles Fred and George to thank for that."
"You mean `kill', right?" he asked, looking over the owl, worryingly.
"Yes, actually," I replied, and shifting the drunken bird aside, which was sporting a crown of mistletoe, took the package from it wondering if it was another of my Dad's secret messages, for-my-eyes-only. I already had the map and cloak, what was it this time, a Sneakoscope? At the corner of my vision I saw the OGB lean forward, staring at me suspiciously, but Connor was asking, "Who's it from?" and I turned to him.
I opened the package and it exploded in a blast of burning white light.
-->