Chapter 44.5 All Through the House

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house…

The soft sigh of the turning page broke the stillness of the suburban household.

Not a creature was stirring…

Swish. Clip-clip. Against her bedroom window, the branches of the tree in the front yard made sounds like tapping feet. She giggled. Do trees count as creatures?

… not even a mouse.

Well, old houses were known to squeak right? That's why she thought she heard a mouse just now, right? Ava looked up from the crisp pages of her picture book. She was supposed to be in bed, really. Mummy and Daddy had put her to bed a few hours ago, but she just couldn't sleep. Who could sleep when Santa was on his way?

Clomp. Clomp. That certainly wasn't a mouse.

That almost sounded like… reindeer feet. It must be! Reindeer feet! Ava scrambled out from under the covers in a tangled mess of limbs and blankets. She shuffled to her bedside window on her knees, pressing her face up to the icy glass. She just knew Santa was outside. The window was so covered in frost, though, that all she could see below was a swirl of white and fog with occasional dark blotches. Stupid frost. She wanted to see Santa!

She had forgotten, of course, that Santa wouldn't park in the driveway.

But now that was beside the point. Surely if this frost would just melt then she could see his sleigh, bright and shiny and red, with all his reindeer lined up out in front and little sleigh bells sparkling on their harnesses. Oh, she wanted to see out this window. She needed to!

The warmth started in her fingers. Well, really it came from deep inside, near her heart, but it felt like it came from her fingers. First they started to tingle. Then the tingling became a light buzz. Then they started to warm up. Ava felt it all happening and smiled. She loved this feeling; it reminded her she was special. She could do things others called impossible. Mummy and Daddy didn't understand, but she knew- this was her superpower. When she needed things to happen the special tingling started and then her problems were solved. At that moment the warmth spread out from her fingers. Steam began to rise from the window as the frost on the outside melted away.

When the resulting fog had cleared, Ava pressed her nose against the glass and peered out into the night. Aside from a light flurry of fresh snow dancing under the streetlamps, the road beyond was still and quiet. No reindeer stamped impatiently in the drive; no ruby red sleigh sat beside her Daddy's car. She was almost disappointed.

Almost, but not quite, because there, along the front walk, was a trail. A fresh trail, a trail of boot prints, which looked like they had come from the boots of a large man.

Santa is here! she thought, for there could only be one explanation. Surely Santa Claus was a gentleman. He parked on the rooftops to stay out of the road in case of emergencies, clearly, so he was obviously polite enough to take the front path! All that talk of chimney climbing never made sense to Ava anyway; he was simply too fat to fit. Even she had tried to climb the chimney once. Mummy had put her in time out for an hour.

The small child almost made a run for the door. Almost. She thought better of that plan and tiptoed quietly instead. After all, she was supposed to be asleep when Santa came. Maybe he wouldn't leave her any presents if he knew she was still awake. She abandoned her book and blankets, creeping over to the door, opening it just enough to slip through. She took great care in padding over the carpet in the hall instead of the wooden floor on either side. Ava had tried to sneak down to the kitchen before, only to be caught when her Mummy heard what she called "the pitter-patter of sneaky feet."

The stairs at the end of the hall were the hard part. They weren't carpeted, and the third and fourth from the bottom creaked if you stepped too close to the middle. At this time of night, too, they were shadowy and dark, making the little girl wish she had brought a torch. Gently, tenderly, she set one foot down on the top step before lowering her weight onto it, clinging to the railing for balance.

So far so good. Now only eleven more to go.

Step by careful step, Ava made it down about half way, just to the point where she could duck her head and look out through the bars of the railing. The hall was dark and quiet, but a chill whispering breath of air snuck in through the cracked front door. Ava held her breath, looking around. No figures lingered, but wet boot prints continued past the stairs in the direction of the sitting room. Releasing her breath shakily, and biting her lip against the squeal of excitement threatening to burst forth, she finished descending the stairs. The third from the bottom did squeak as she passed, but no sound could be heard from the other room, so she was safe.

As she crept down the hall, the little girl began to make out sounds coming through the open archway that led into the next room. There was the clink of glass on glass, the crunch of her (admittedly slightly over-baked) cookies. She slowed even further, concentrating carefully on picking up and putting down each foot with absolutely no sound to give her away. She was so close to seeing Santa! She wouldn't blow the whole thing now.

The room beyond the archway was lit in many colors. Their beautiful Christmas tree glittered in one corner. Little multicolored electric lights flashed on and off in pleasing patterns, bathing the room in reds and greens and yellows. Shiny ornaments reflected fractured sparkles onto the walls, the carpet, the mantel above the fireplace. Ava could make out the shadowy forms of the couch and the entertainment center with its big television, Mummy's rocking chair in one corner and Daddy's armchair in another. Leaning over the coffee table was another shadowy form; this one lifted another cookie to its mouth as Ava watched.

Well… he didn't seem very much like the Santa from the books and stories and vhs movies. He wasn't nearly fat enough, for one point, and as another, he didn't carry a sack. She glanced toward the tree. They had all laid out their gifts for each other before going to bed, but Ava was certain as she counted silently that there were more presents stacked there than before. So, Santa did leave presents. Maybe he just didn't use an old-fashioned sack anymore; after all, the stories might be like the milk Daddy threw away- past their expiration date.

But back to Santa. Santa! She was so excited to see him! He was tall, and he did have a big bushy beard, though it wasn't as long as she expected. From the outline of his feet she could tell he had nice winter boots lined with fur. He wore loose pants, definitely not jeans, and a shirt tucked underneath a long coat. At least this part matched the stories! His cloak looked heavy and fur-lined like his boots. She couldn't make out colors in his dark outline against the brightly lit tree, but she imagined his clothes being a nice red with gold swirlies and white fur.

Her eyes lifted to his face once more, only to find that he had stopped eating. Cookie halfway to his mouth, he stared back at her. As she met his gaze his surprised look twisted into a smile that felt like cold winter snow. Ava's breath stopped in her chest and she bolted from the room like a rabbit.

She was stampeding her way back upstairs and down the hall again before the spike of fear cleared and she could make coherent thoughts once more. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. Oh what had she done! Santa saw her! And now she wouldn't get any presents! As the truth of what had happened broke inside her, Ava resorted to the answer that all small children had to heartbreak. She fell down in the middle of the hall and sobbed, wailing her wretched dejectedness into the stillness of the house. Picture frames hanging on the walls began to shake along with her; the stairs creaked and moaned with her pain.

Alarmed thumping followed by two sets of anxious steps responded quickly to the little girl's crying, but even as her mother and father knelt beside her, Ava couldn't bring herself to calm down. If anything, she screamed louder. Her parents ducked as the lamp fell off the hall table, smashing on the floor, but aside from a nervous glance, they ignored it in favor of their child.

"Oh, babygirl, what's wrong? What's wrong love?" Mummy asked, wrapping a warm embrace around her.

Daddy put one hand on her shoulder and one hand on Mummy's. "Are you hurt, Ava? Did you have a nightmare?"

Ava's tiny chest heaved as she fought the tears just long enough to get words out. Mummy and Daddy would fix it. Mummy and Daddy always made things better. "I-I'm s-s-s-sorry Mummy! I'm s-s-s-sorry D-Daddy!"

"Why are you sorry, baby?" Daddy asked.

Mummy stroked her hair like she always did, and it eased the sobbing enough that Ava could stop her super power from destroying the house. But she still cried, and she was still sad, and nothing could stop that. Christmas was ruined!

"I- I- I," she gasped. "I stayed a-awaaaake! I just- I just wanted to see Santaaaaa!" Her parents looked at each other over her head. She went on before they could say anything. "But S-Santa was soooo maaaad! An', An', an' he's gonna take away all my PWESENTS!" Her last word devolved into more sobbing as tears and snot ran down her face.

"Honey," her Daddy said. "Santa's not here yet."

"Yes he iiiiis!" Ava insisted, looking up from her Mummy's arms to look her Daddy in the eye. "I heard his reindeer! And he came up the walk! He was eatin' his cookies!"

Daddy's eyes hardened as Mummy gasped and pulled her closer. She stopped wailing then, startled by her mother's tight hold. Instead she watched quietly through silent tears as Daddy went back into their bedroom and came out carrying the This-Is-Not-Ever-a-Toy-Ava-It's-Dangerous. It clicked in his hand as he moved its pieces.

"Laura, take Ava into the bedroom. Get in the closet. Close the door. Call the police." Mummy hesitated. "Now, Laura!"

The next thing she knew, Ava was on Mummy's hip and the bedroom door was closing and locking behind them. The phone's cradle fell to the floor as Mummy snatched it up. Just before they got in the closet, there was the dim sound of Daddy yelling downstairs. Ava turned to ask her Mummy why Daddy was yelling at Santa, but her mother shushed her, stroking her face with her own shaking hand and holding the phone to her ear in the other.

"Mummy-!" she tried, but Mummy did something she'd never done before. She actually put her hand over Ava's mouth!

"Hush, baby, shhh," Mummy whispered. Her voice was weak and shaky in the darkness of the tight space. She flinched as a voice came over the phone, almost dropping it into the pile of Daddy's dirty clothes. "Yes! Yes, I'm here! There's a man in our house! He's downstairs, he broke in! Yes, yes ma'am. Yes ma'am. I don't know, we're in the closet. My daughter and I, my husband went downstairs. He has a gun. No, well, I- I don't know! My husband, not the man. We're on Whicker Street. 1833 West Whicker Street, Sutton."

There were heavy steps on the stairs. Thumping. Slow and measured.

"I hear footsteps! Yes. Yes, ma'am! Oh, thank you! Yes, yes, I'll stay on the line, of course."

Mummy reached out and absently stroked her hair, but her Mummy was still scared, and so Ava stayed quiet. She couldn't see very well in the dark. She didn't like it. She wanted to know what had happened. Why was Daddy so mad at Santa? Was he going to try to make him give her presents back? But… that didn't sound like Daddy's feet on the stairs. Or in the hall now.

Out in the bedroom, a quiet swishing with a little bit of a creak sounded, and Mummy fell silent, trying to stifle a whimper, holding Ava's head to her chest. Ava panted raggedly into her sweater. Mummy was terrified. Ava had never felt her so scared before.

There were endless beats of silence.

Daddy would have opened the door by now.

What did Santa do to her Daddy?

She was wrong. She didn't want presents. She didn't want to see Santa. She just wanted Daddy to come say it was okay!

Out of the silence, the crashing of a boot into the door of their hiding place rang louder than any noise Ava had ever hear. Dust flew from the wall as the hinges pulled free and Mummy screamed and launched herself over her daughter as the door came down heavily on top of them. The phone clattered uselessly to the floor, forgotten.

"You stay away from my baby!" Mummy screamed, and Ava started crying again. The hangers overhead shook and rattled themselves free of the bar holding them and launched themselves at the scary man in the doorway, but they turned to dust in an instant.

"Pathetic Mudblood whelp," the man hissed.

There was a flash of green light, and Ava screamed.

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house

Not a creature was stirring. Not even a mouse.

But overhead, glistening, in the chill winter air

A skull and snake shone, marking death in their stare.

And other houses, too, bore skulls of their own

Which, on this dark night, too brightly had shown.

No one knew how they got there; no one quite understood

Why certain houses were marked in each neighborhood.

No one, that is, until far off, in Surrey,

The green light shone down at one Petunia Dursley

Who stared up at the sky, with fear in her eyes

And did something no one thought possible.

She cried.