Chapter 26. Christmas
Finally, the weather turned really cold. One morning in December, all the lawns around the school and the Forbidden forest were covered in snow. Even the lake froze solid.
"What about the squid?" Hermione asked quizzically.
No one could answer her.
"It probably hibernates, who knows," Draco shrugged.
The dungeons got terribly cold. Sometimes during Potions, their fingers went numb; staying in the Baron's apartment became unbearable, and now they preferred to meet at the library. It was not really warm in there either, but at least there was no frost on the walls.
Somehow, they ended up not sharing their suspicions with Severus. There was always something that prevented a private talk. The more time passed, the harder it was to gather courage and speak up because their godfather would surely ask (and quite reasonably) why they had not told him at once. Days passed, Quirrell did not make a move and behaved as unsuspicious as anyone else. Harry even started doubting if they were right when one day at the library Hermione whispered tremendous news, "This Quirrell has an accomplice!"
"What?" Draco almost jumped up.
Some senior students from nearby tables turned and hushed them.
Hermione lowered her voice even more.
"Yesterday evening before dinner I went to the DADA classroom to take a quill I had forgotten there. I had left it on purpose that morning, of course. So when I came there, I heard Quirrell's voice from behind the slightly opened door. He was talking to someone. There was no one around so I leaned in and listened. "No," he said. "There haven't been any other opportunities since then. The boy is constantly watched. Yes, I will try one more time." It was strange that I heard only his answers. Like he was talking on the phone."
"On what?"
Hermione made a face.
"It's not important. Just a Muggle thing, I'll explain later if you want. I didn't hear the person he talked to, that's what matters. He went silent, and I knocked. "Enter," he said. I did, and... you wouldn't believe it, but he was alone in the room!"
"What about the fireplace?" Draco asked quickly.
"It was ablaze, but Quirrell stood in the other corner of the room!"
"That's not the point," Harry interrupted. "If Quirrell called someone through the fireplace, Hermione wouldn't have heard anything at all. If someone was calling him, she would have heard two voices."
"It's strange," Pansy frowned. "There are some special heirlooms, of course, all sorts of hand mirrors and plates..."
"It doesn't matter how he did it," Hermione interrupted again. "He's not alone, that's important. Maybe we should talk to Professor Snape, what do you think, Harry?"
Draco and he must have looked so guilty that she immediately understood everything.
"Shame on you! I hope you'll tell him now. The situation can turn dangerous."
Draco and Harry looked at each other. It was clear that withholding this information even now was the stupidest course of action. Although they were very, very reluctant to go to Severus and admit that they had not told him.
"Strictly speaking, Granger," Draco noted, "It's you who should tell him everything. You set Quirrell's cloak on fire, after all. And you spied on him yesterday."
Hermione's face fell right away. She was not eager to go to the formidable Head of Slytherin and admit to her misbehaviour, even if it had been done for the greater good.
"I have an idea," Harry said slowly. "We need to warn him in such a way that he wouldn't know it's us."
Everyone started thinking.
"But how?" Blaise asked. "Change the handwriting? Hey, can anyone change their handwriting?"
No one could, so they started thinking again.
"Listen," Hermione said suddenly, "can wizards collect fingerprints? Like in detective stories?"
"What? Where?"
Hermione sighed and patiently explained the concepts.
"Sounds terribly boring," Draco said haughtily. "Wizards don't print any fingers, of course."
"You mean, collect fingerprints."
"Whatever. You are right, though: there are some special detecting spells. They help to find out who wrote a letter or touched a parchment. Or cast spells on it. Dad knows them, Severus should know too. There are counter spells, but we don't know them!"
Hermione frowned thoughtfully, and then brightened, "I think I know what we can do..."
X X X
The holidays were coming soon, so the brats' minds were occupied with anything but studying. Severus himself was counting days anticipating a long vacation at the manor. None of Slytherins was staying at school for Christmas, thank Merlin!
Meanwhile, all four Weasley scions stayed, which added to Severus' satisfaction. For once, these troublemakers would be someone else's problem. When he gloated about it to Minerva, however, she winced and threatened, "Another joke like this, and I will complain to Albus that I cannot handle them alone. Then we shall see who will have the last laugh." Severus sensibly decided to have that last laugh, but without witnesses — in his rooms.
X X X
Finally, Saturday before Christmas came — the beginning of the holidays. Slytherins got up early to pack the last of their stuff; even Nott was quiet, as everyone was eager to go home. After breakfast, Harry and Draco with trunks went up to the entrance hall where Severus greeted them, to their astonishment.
"I will ride with you," he announced curtly. "Just in case."
The crowd around them faded fast. Only Hermione walked with them, not batting an eye.
Outside there were a lot of carriages without horses.
"Thestrals?" Harry asked.
Severus nodded, and Draco shuddered.
Hermione calmly climbed into the nearest one and sat by the window. Harry sat next to her, Draco and Severus took the opposite side.
"What's a Thestral?" she asked.
"An ugly beast," Draco made a face. "An undead invisible horse that eats rotten meat and stuff like that."
Hermione laughed.
"Six months ago I might have believed you, but now..."
"Draco is right, Miss Granger, if not entirely accurate. Thestrals are indeed skeletal, but alive creatures. They are carnivores, but they do not feed on carrion or rotten meat. They are also invisible, but not to everyone."
"Who can see them?"
"Only those, Miss Granger, who have witnessed someone's death."
Draco laughed nervously.
"That's some luck," he joked awkwardly.
"You don't say, Mr. Malfoy," Severus' tone was slightly menacing.
Hermione bravely changed the topic, "I arranged a trip to Diagon Alley with my parents tomorrow. I want to buy a couple of things and to send some greeting cards. Can I send them even if I don't have an owl?"
Harry stared out of the window at the snow-covered hills and listened to Severus explaining the rules of using public owl post to Hermione.
X X X
Wiltshire seemed clammy and unpleasant after Hogwarts. Snow was left in Scottish Highlands, and South-West England greeted them with drizzling rain. The longest night of the year was bound to be the chilliest.
Severus shivered.
"Should I participate in this? I am not a relative, after all."
"Dumbledore is not a relative either," Lucius waved his hand, "but he did quite well."
"I am not Dumbledore!"
"You see, sadly, I am not him, either."
Severus stared at his friend with suspicion, but Lucius was deadly serious.
"Are you feeling well?"
Lucius laughed at that.
"Thank you, I feel great. I meant that despite all my numerous virtues, I do not have the magical abilities of the man who defeated Grindelwald... For now, at least."
Severus tried to imagine what Wizarding Britain would have turned into if Lucius had Albus Dumbledore's abilities, and shuddered.
"Just admit that you do not wish to wear a white cloak," Narcissa cut in. She was dressed in a ritual garb made of a year-old lamb's or a kid's wool (Severus forgot the details) and looked splendid.
"I do not," Severus honestly admitted. "It is not the point, however. I am just uneasy about the whole thing."
"I can guess why," Lucius replied, "but I think it would be an advantage rather than not. It would be right."
"You really believe that?" Severus grumbled grimly.
"I know that." Lucius was strangely calm. "Today is the right night, three is the right number, I am sure everything will be fine."
"Alright," Severus gave up. "Where do we start?"
"In the West wing," Narcissa replied. "The first floor, then the ground floor. After that, the cellars. The gardens will be last if we still have strength by the time."
"What if..."
"We shall see. It's better not to risk it. At the very least, we will ward the house only."
Severus nodded, and they went to the West wing.
I wonder, he thought idly, what the Headmaster would think about the results of this.
Somehow, he was sure that his curiosity would be satisfied in the nearest future. And that he would also have to deal with the consequences.
X X X
Harry woke up late on Sunday. The weather was not very cheerful, as it was raining. That was probably the reason he slept in... He turned his head to look at the clock. It was almost half past ten!
It was strange that no one woke him up; usually Mum and Dad did not let them to sleep in so late. He dressed, made himself presentable and stepped into the corridor. The door to Draco's room was tightly shut, he was probably still asleep. Harry contemplated if he should wake his brother with some pillow martial arts trick, but decided that it was too much effort and went to the dining room in search for the adults.
All three of them were already there. By the looks of it, they just started their breakfast. Harry decided that they looked strangely tired. Dad was almost nodding over his cup of coffee, Narcissa was pale, and the bags under Severus' eyes were more evident than usual. It looked like they were up the whole night or had very little sleep.
I wonder what they were doing, Harry thought, eating his scrambled eggs. Practicing some complicated magic, probably. Why the last night? We only just arrived. Suddenly he remembered his Astronomy lessons. Ah, it's Yule. Why then didn't they tell us anything?
He frowned thoughtfully. If this were an ordinary if tiring procedure, Mum and Dad would have warned them. The reason of their tiredness notwithstanding, they obviously did something dangerous, and so they would not answer any questions. Maybe later he could find out quietly what... not now, though.
What should Draco and he do today? Harry looked out of the window and sighed: they could forget about horseback riding or flying. The drizzle had just turned into rain shower. What sort of Christmas weather it was!
Draco stepped into the dining room.
"Good morning!" he said cheerfully. "Well, morning is almost over. Why didn't you wake me?"
Harry pricked his ears.
"Good morning," Lucius answered evenly. "Were you not complaining to Severus that you do not get enough of sleep at school?"
Draco shrugged.
"That was at school. Although today," he glanced out of the window, "holidays are not much better. We have nothing to do. We can't even go flying."
"Maybe," Severus started smoothly, "you could write your Transfiguration essay. Professor McGonagall complained to me only yesterday that you let things slide. She is tired of grading your work with "Exceeds Expectations"."
"What's the problem then?" Draco replied nonchalantly, buttering his toast. "She can grade my work with "Outstanding", I would not object."
Narcissa laughed.
"I can help you," she offered, "if you want. The Blacks had hereditary talents in this field. We could practice."
"Are you sure? Are we not forbidden to use magic during the holidays?" Draco's eyes shone brightly.
Lucius smiled.
"I took some precautions." Harry noticed that after those words Severus looked questioningly at Lucius. He nodded and continued, "Taking into account some... special circumstances, the Ministry authorized me to settle this question. I see no reason for you not to spend the holiday doing something useful. Privileges are created to be used."
"I didn't mean studying!" Draco protested.
"Me either," Lucius replied. "At least, not only that. Not today, though."
Harry clearly saw that Mum, Dad and Severus were desperately trying not to yawn, so he proposed hurriedly to Draco, "Let's go play chess."
Draco livened and nodded.
X X X
On Monday, Severus received a very strange letter delivered by an unknown owl. The envelope was a Christmas one with reindeer and gnomes from Flourish and Blotts. The address was not written, but glued on; the words consisted of letters apparently cut out from The Prophet.
The Potions master frowned, opened the envelope and took out the message itself. It was a post paper with the same Christmas design; the words were glued on.
QUIRRELL STARED AT HARRY THAT DAY AND MUTTERED. HE HAS AN INVISIBLE ACCOMPLICE. HE WILL TRY TO DO IT AGAIN. BEWARE.
It could be considered a stupid prank if the warning did not correspond with his own suspicions. The first sentence without doubt referred to the disastrous Quidditch match. What about this "invisible accomplice", though? Is this a warning or a threat, anyway?
Narcissa and the boys were at Diagon Alley the whole morning, so Severus without much ado went to ask Lucius' advice. His friend was in his study, going over some Muggle-looking papers which he abandoned with relief rather than reluctance.
"Did anything happened?" he asked.
Severus silently handed him the curious letter.
Lucius read it, and his brows shot up.
"Did this come with today's mail?"
"If it were yesterday's, I would have come yesterday."
"I see. Did you check for the author?"
The Potions master shook his head. Lucius nodded, took his wand, touched the paper and said a long complicated spell. The next moment, astonishment and slight shock were written on his face.
"What is it?" Severus was anxious.
"You would not believe it. Wait, I will try again."
Lucius repeated the motions, stilled for a moment, then laughed out loud.
"Have you gone mad?" Severus inquired.
"Try it yourself," Lucius managed through laughter.
Severus did. The image conjured by the spell was so terrible that he winced. Then he tried again. The result did not change.
"It looks," he said weakly, "like a dead black cow has written this to me. A very dead one."
Lucius nodded.
"And why is this funny?" Severus flared.
"Think, Sev, think," Lucius was still smiling. "What does this spell identify?"
"How can it be that..." Severus answered, perplexed. Then it all added up. "Damn it! I will strangle that little brat!" "Please, don't. Firstly, she is quite bright if Muggleborn. Secondly, if you kill her, you will have to kill my children too, and I cannot let that happen."
Severus calmed down and snorted.
"Did they really think we would not find out?"
"They made sure the letter could not be linked to them," Lucius corrected. "Very prudent. The only thing that can be said about this lovely letter is that the author did not use magic and wore gloves. The rest is speculation and circumstantial evidence. This is a very smart manoeuvre. Especially considering their age."
"Indeed. And if Miss Granger did not ask me about public owl post services only yesterday... Now what?" Severus asked. "Do we pretend we did not understand anything?"
"On the contrary, I wanted to discuss some... details with the boys."
X X X
They returned from the Diagon Alley right before lunch with heaps of bright parcels and no pocket money left. The presents and post cards for friends were sent on the spot — in the owl post office — so Dad's Sherlock would not get overtired, and the packages would not be late for Christmas.
Draco was a little worried. If they calculated correctly, Severus should have gotten Granger's letter by now. What would he think? Would he guess who sent it or not? Draco looked sideways at his brother who was calmly discussing some fine points of turning wood into metal with Mum. He seemed not to be even a little bit worried. Maybe he just forgot. Finally, Draco joined the conversation. It was better than torturing himself with doubts.
The Transfiguration discussion ran over, they talked about it even at the table. When the elves finally served the dessert, Lucius produced a folded piece of paper with Christmas design from his pocket.
Draco looked down and concentrated on his treacle tart.
"Boys," Lucius started, "today Severus received a most peculiar letter."
"Did he?" Harry was very convincingly surprised. "What's peculiar about it?"
"Almost everything, although, the sender is the most curious puzzle... A message from the dead is a rarity."
Draco froze and then turned to his father. He was looking gloomily at the boys.
"Is this a joke?" Harry managed to say.
"Maybe, but not a very good one," Lucius answered. "A letter with threats is not a very funny joke either, if it can be considered as such."
"A letter with threats?" Narcissa was alarmed. "Luc, what is going on?"
"I think," Lucius replied slowly, "we should better ask Harry about it."
Draco looked at his brother. The boy looked at their parents with genuine astonishment, "I don't know anything about any threats. What does it have to do with me?"
What did that idiot Granger girl write there? Draco was panicking. What do we do now?
He was already sure that they could not weasel out of this one. Dad knew that they had something to do with the letter. The only thing to do was to find out the scale of the paternal displeasure.
Rescue came from unexpected source. Severus smirked suddenly and said, "Stop it, Luc. First, you are frightening Cissy, second, your hints are a bit too subtle for them."
"As you wish," Lucius shrugged. Draco breathed a sigh of relief. "Your letter, your problem. Cissy, do not worry, I told you it was just a joke. Our happy-go-lucky boys just decided to have some holiday fun."
"It wasn't us!" Draco protested. "And it's no joke! This is..."
He caught himself, but it was too late.
"Stop torturing our happy-go-lucky boys and me," Narcissa said decisively. "Sev, give me the letter, I want to read it at least. Do tell the whole story, Harry."
"Let Draco talk," Harry grumbled. "He's seems to have a big enough mouth for that."
Lucius laughed.
Draco sighed and started talking.
X X X
Later that evening, when the children were finally in bed, the adults settled in a cheerfully decorated and cosy library. Narcissa still giggled from time to time.
"They are good," she noted.
"Oh yes," Severus grumbled. "Instead of warning me on time like normal, sensible people would do..."
"...they behaved like normal, sensible children."
"What does it matter?" Lucius asked. "The main thing is now we know it. Can this Miss Granger of yours be trusted, Sev? What do you think?"
"First, she's not mine. Second, what do you mean?"
"If she says she saw Quirrell cursing Harry's broom, was it really so? Or...?"
Severus frowned.
"She does not look like a suggestible child. She had probably seen exactly what she described. It still does not actually prove anything, however. I was not twiddling my thumbs either during the game."
"I see you became... what do Muggles call it? A solicitor for hell?"
"Devil's advocate," Severus snorted. "I understand what you are talking about, but I am objecting for another reason. Quirinus is... a very unlikely candidate. He does not look like a Death Eater. He does not even look like a Dark wizard."
"Which means that he is no fool, at least," Narcissa noted. "Only very dim Dark wizards resemble scarecrows from the Ministry posters. And I am very curious about that "invisible accomplice" of his. It is a pity we cannot make heads or tails of it from their story."
"I will definitely talk to Miss Granger," Severus promised with an unmistakable threat.
"Poor thing," Lucius smiled.
"Thank you."
"Actually, I meant the girl."
"Gryffindors are never poor things," Severus sounded homiletic. "They can be insolent brats, lazybones, bullies or ignoramuses any time. Sometimes they are know-it-alls and upstarts, but they are never poor things."
All three of them laughed.
"By the way, do you know," Narcissa changed the subject, "that the children sent a present to Headmaster Dumbledore? Severus, do they even talk to the headmaster apart from occasional meetings in school halls?"
"What?" He was astonished. "No, as far as I know, they do not. Although it turns out I do not know much lately."
"This is strange," Lucius commented evenly, and it was not clear if he was serious or mocking.
"There is more," Narcissa continued. "You'd never guess what they gave the man."
She received two questioning glances.
"Socks," she said. "Five multi-coloured striped socks."
Lucius and Severus looked at each other.
"I think," Lucius said slowly, "I prefer not to know what that means."
X X X
Even though six years passed since his adoption, Harry waited for this Christmas almost as eagerly as the first time. For a different reason, though. When he was five, every day in his foster parents' house seemed a miracle, a fairy-tale where he ended up by accident. And now Harry was happy just because he was home. He liked Hogwarts, he had good friends, he played Quidditch there, and Severus' constant presence softened the blow of leaving the manor. Harry still had missed it, however, without really realizing it. All this cosy traditional homely fuss created a true celebratory feeling.
In the morning of the twenty fourth Narcissa kicked them out of the living room, giving them lots of chores. She was decorating the tree, so the men should take care of the rest of the house. Severus tried to escape to the laboratory, but Lucius caught him and gave him work: Snape was to hang out green-and-silver garlands on the high library windows.
"I am no house elf," their godfather grumbled, waving his wand in displeasure, as one of the garlands was hanging crookedly.
A flap-eared head appeared from behind a bookcase.
"Dobby am a house elf. Dobby help decorate?"
Severus turned, red in the face. Harry and Draco did their best not to laugh out loud.
"Dobby, help in the kitchens," Lucius interfered hastily. "Surely there is a lot to be done there."
The elf's ears drooped dismally.
"What about decorate?" he asked shyly.
Lucius rolled his eyes.
"Ask Harry. You are his elf, after all."
Dobby hopefully stared at Harry.
"Let's do this. You'll decorate my room," Harry proposed. "You can prepare the holly…"
Dobby nodded with enthusiasm.
"Dobby listen, Dobby cut holly and make wreaths!" he promised and disappeared.
"Now you'll have holly jungle there," Draco snorted.
"So what?" Harry shrugged. "I don't object, and it makes him happy. Dad, can we play chess later?"
Lucius nodded, "Certainly."
They did not only play chess, but went horseback riding in the park as the rain finally stopped in the afternoon. That evening Harry went to bed happy despite the smell of the monstrous holly wreaths that filled the whole room.
X X X
The Christmas morning started with a good Christmas tradition: Harry's pillow was pulled from under his head and thrown on top of it.
"Mmm," he mumbled.
""Rise and shine," Draco demanded. "It's time to wake everyone up and open the presents!"
"I know, I know," Harry muttered. "Mum, honestly, I'll be up in five minutes…"
Draco snorted and hit him on the head with a pillow again, "Merry Christmas!"
"The same to you!" Harry suddenly rolled over, fell over Draco with the blanket, and both ended up on the floor. Thirty seconds later, he was sitting on top of Draco and pounding him with a pillow.
"That's not fair!" Draco flared, trying to shield himself. "You had an advantage!"
"What advantage?"
"You… You were lying very conveniently!"
"Ha! Would you like to remind me about the "don't hit the man when he's down" rule?" Harry snorted.
"What is going on, gentlemen?" Lucius asked standing in the doorway. "If this is a Greco-Roman wrestling match, then Harry has already won."
"What is Greco-Roman wrestling?" Draco asked.
"I have no idea, " Lucius admitted serenely. "Severus explained to me once that the main thing there is to pin the opponent down. Are you going to get up, young men?"
Harry looked first at his father, then at his brother down on the floor.
"I will think about it," he smiled.
"Think faster!" Draco protested. "You are heavy. And I want the presents."
"You behave like five-year-olds," Lucius noted.
"There was considerably less noise and hustle when they were five," Narcissa countered from the doorway. "Get up, children. Your presents are waiting for you with impatience. If they get any more nervous, someone will get hurt. We will wait for you in the sitting room."
The parents left. The boys looked at each other, Harry got off Draco and jumped away, dodging a brotherly punch.
"I hope," Draco said pensively, "it's something that doesn't bite."
Although the mysterious impatient presents did not bite... well, Harry could not find a right word. Actually, he could not say a word for the first minute.
"She's a beauty!"
The snowy owl hooted and non-too-gently bit his finger.
"And a smart one," he added hastily. "I'll name her Hedwig. Do you want to be called Hedwig?"
Hedwig was a witch from Medieval Poland who invented the owl post. Harry read about her recently in The History of Magic.
The owl hooted agreeing, and the question was closed.
Draco was also absolutely taken by his new eagle owl. He could not choose its name and changed his mind five times an hour. The owl observed him patiently and hooted good-naturedly at all his ideas from "Loki " to "Sleipnir".
"An eight-legged eagle owl, that's something new," Harry snorted.
The owl hooted again — mockingly this time.
"Call him Mycroft," Severus offered with a strange smile.
Lucius laughed, but the boys did not catch the joke. This name was just like any other.
Anyway, Draco did not like it.
"Nah, that's not interesting enough. I want it to be clear that the bird is mine. And cunning, and fast..."
"What about Hermes?" Harry asked.
Draco shivered.
"Are you mad? The whole school will think I'm in love with that Granger of yours! Never!"
"She's not mine!" Harry snorted.
Lucius smirked again and looked at Severus with a strange expression, but the Potions master pretended not to notice. Harry was a little intrigued, but decided that they probably would not explain all the same.
"Ulysses then?" proposed Narcissa.
Draco thought about it.
"I like it," he announced. "Let him be Ulysses."
The owl hooted and nipped his ear.
In the evening, everyone went to the traditional dinner at Parkinsons'. Pansy got a fluffy white kitten, which she tried to turn black or at least grey without much luck.
"I wanted to call her Hel," Pansy said grimly, "but it obviously doesn't suit her. And anyway, I wanted so much to have a raven! But Mother says it's a too grim familiar for a decent well-bred witch. And one needs a special permission to bring a raven to Hogwarts. Now I'm trying to figure out what to do with this fluffy puff."
Harry and Draco looked doubtfully at the "fluffy puff". The cat coolly stared at them with its bright blue eyes as if the whole thing did not bother it.
"I don't know," Harry admitted and tried to pat the cat.
It sniffed and struck him with her claws quickly as a lightning. Harry hastily pulled his hand back.
"Ow, you're a mean cat!"
"She's not used to you yet!" Pansy defended her pet.
"Call her Princess," Draco proposed, "since she's so untouchable."
The cat hissed without giving Pansy a chance to answer.
"Alright, alright," Draco raised his hands in conciliation and stepped back just in case. "I am sorry, Milady. Don't scratch me."
The cat suddenly meowed, stretched and started licking the tip of its snowy tail as if nothing happened.
"So, Milady it will be," Pansy sighed, grabbed her newly-named pet and settled in a chair. Milady loudly purred, sprawling on her knees. "What about you, what's going on?"
The boys eagerly told her about their owls, interrupting each other.
"Great," Pansy answered with a little jealousy. "And cats can't even deliver mail..."
Milady just snorted disdainfully in reply.
X X X
They returned home late that evening, and Narcissa went to her room right away. Severus left too, but Lucius stayed and warned the boys, "Please do not stay up too long. We have to make a very important visit tomorrow, and we need to discuss something before that."
Then he wished them good night and left.
Harry and Draco looked at each other, perplexed: why so much mystery?
However, it was clear that they would learn the answer only in the morning, and the only thing left to do was to go to bed.