The Christmas of 1997
It was a lonely Christmas.
.
The small Christmas tree stands upright with little decorations the members of DA have managed to conjure up with magic. There are some paper stars and and school ties tied up as ribbons; red and gold twisted into a bow with blue and bronze or yellow and black.
No present litter the skirt of the tree, contrary to what the halls of Hogwarts have seen since centuries. Seamus Finnigan sits near the fireplace, flipping the pages of a book with his thumb. He stares into the flames until white speck block his vision and make him go fuzzy in the head. He shakes his head then, and keeps the book back into his bag. He glances once at the cover, the title Quidditch Through The Ages glows in the firelight. Limited Edition copy is lettered in a bubble.
Inside is a slip of paper reading Dean, Quidditch is always better than the foot-ball thing. Happy Christmas buddy! Seamus had got the book for his best friend in their summer holidays itself, imagining the delighted face of his Quidditch-loving friend. But Dean never started the seventh year at Hogwarts; he's been on the run and Seamus doesn't even know if he's dead or alive.
Happy Christmas he mutters to no one-to Dean who's not there-and flings himself onto his bunk in the Room of Requirement.
It's been two days now, since Luna has been in this particular room with an iron door and a lock on the outside. Mr. Olivander is there too, and Luna worries for the old man's frail health in this cold. Her wand was taken away and her clothes are dirty with mud-but it's Christmas eve tonight and through the small window in the passageway she can see the snow falling and there's hope.
The wandmaker is in a deep slumber; as he is for most of the time (poor thing he's become so weak, Luna thinks) but she wished him sometime ago, with a smile on her face. She misses her father, he'd be quite lonely without her.
And she misses her friends. But it's Christmas eve and so Luna doesn't want to be sad. There's a silent prayer on her lips as she gives thanks for the bread the house elf has slid through the iron door. She knows Harry, Hermione and Ron are on the run, something to defeat Voldermort, and she wishes them good luck.
She tilts her head to the stone ceiling, Happy Christmas she thinks, turning the corners of her mouth upward into a smile. It's a silent wish, a silent greeting to her friends and family and to all the others who have no else wishing them.
People call her loony, she knows, but that's because she has faith. In all the goodness and innocence of the world even during the war. That despite everything, there is still good in the world and it's worth fighting for.
The pub is surprisingly empty, considering it's Christmas eve and on this day, other years, the pub is full to the extent Aberforth curses every two minutes people walk in, laughing and ordering food and drink.
It is like seventeen years ago; fear is dominating and people are scared to go out in the dark, and monsters are not the only thing lurking out there. Not that it's the only thing stopping people from celebrating. There are hardly any lights and decorations put up in Hogsmeade shop windows or houses. The celebration comes when you know no one in your family and friends has died rather than looking for gifts on the Christmas morning and hoping for miracles and magic.
But it's also not like seventeen years ago.
Because this year there won't be two presents arriving with a Phoenix, wrapped precisely with Aberforth and Ariana written in the same precise script across note attached to the brown paper. It's not the gifts he misses; it's their arrival. Because no matter how much Aberforth refuses to admit, those packages brought with them the faintest string of love for the old, bearded headmaster of Hogwarts.
His sister's face lit up every time she saw those presents and Aberforth would give anything to see her always like that. This year, however there is no Phoenix and nothing to celebrate, really. Ariana has been quite all day and Aberforth doesn't really know what to say to her. What would he say to her? That everything would be alright? That it's going to be okay? How can he tell her that when he himself doesn't know?
Albus was the one good at these things. Talking, making them feel like it was all going to be fine. And what could he do now that Albus is-
The thought makes him falter and for the first time, Aberforth feels truly lonely without his brother. He sniffs heavily once and then forces the corners of his mouth upwards and goes to his sister. Happy Christmas he tells her. She looks up from her book and smiles a little, nodding her-she wishes him too.
He goes to the window, Happy Christmas he murmurs to the snow.