Chapter 5: Christmas with the Potters

The days following Halloween passed like a whirlwind. Harry's promised conversation with Dumbledore left him only with more questions. Voldemort had returned, but just how it had happened wasn't really clear. As soon as Lucius had recovered from his treatment he had left Hogwarts, and so far as Harry was aware he had refused to answer any questions on the other prophecy, which apparently included Iana of all people.

Iana herself had been no more forthcoming. Despite Harry's many efforts to catch her alone it was obvious that whatever had happened at the Ministry had caused her to take Dumbledore's earlier advice to heart. She went nowhere without some kind of escort.

Crabbe and Goyle were, as ever, firmly attached to her coat heels but more than just them were keeping an eye on her. A substantial portion of Slytherin was watching her every move, even a few of the teachers. On more than one occasion, Harry had thought he'd finally been in luck, only to be thwarted by the sudden appearance of Professor Snape from out of nowhere.

At least Rosier had disappeared after his unmasking at the Ministry. That was one fewer person to worry about.

It wasn't only Iana that was avoiding him. It soon became clear that Dumbledore was too. Even Harry's own parents hadn't said much. His mum had clearly been beside herself with worry when she'd found out about what had happened, but every attempt Harry had made to get anything out of her, his dad or Sirius had come up empty. All Harry knew was that they were all monumentally pissed off at Peter for falling asleep while on watch.

Harry got the distinct impression that they didn't really know anything more than he did anyway. But how was that even possible?

His resulting frustration had also driven the wedge that had developed between Harry and his friends significantly deeper.

"Come on, Harry," Dean wheedled for what felt like the dozenth time that weekend. "What happened on Halloween? You have to tell us eventually."

Harry groaned but didn't respond. Instead he concentrated on his breakfast.

"It has something to do with Malfoy, right?" Seamus guessed around a mouthful of porridge. "She wasn't around, and you went and left early. Did she do something to you?"

"She's been a right cow since then too," said Ron, adding his own two knuts.

Neville leaned in as if to share some great secret. "Anthony said he saw her coming out of the Hospital Wing the day after."

The other three jumped immediately to the most obvious conclusion.

"Here, did you and her get into it?" asked Seamus, eyes wide.

"If you did, you clearly came off best," said Dean, to nods from the other boys. "Did you get caught? Is that why you're not saying anything?"

Ron grinned, clearly liking that idea. "Blink once for yes."

Having had more than enough, Harry snatched up a slice of his toast and left them to their juvenile fantasies. As he left the Great Hall, and started towards the stairs towards the Gryffindor tower, someone grabbed him and yanked him into a partially hidden alcove behind one of the suits of armour.

It was Iana Malfoy.

"Stop bloody following me around like a lost puppy, Potter!" she hissed, far closer to his face than he'd really prefer. It wasn't a big alcove. "It's making me jumpy!"

It took a moment for Harry to get his bearings as, for once, he really hadn't been paying attention to whatever it was she was doing. "What are you talking about, Malfoy?" he retorted, almost on instinct, really. "In case it slipped your notice, you're the one who dragged me in here."

"Just for one second, can you try to act like you're not a seeker short?" Iana asked while she glared at him from a distance of just a few inches.

She looked tired, Harry realised. From so close, it was obvious that she was using cosmetic charms to hide the deep bags under her eyes, but there was more to it than that. Now that he was so close up to her, Harry could see her pale grey eyes were flecked through with a mixture of blue and green, and they looked terrified.

It wasn't a raw, frantic, immediate terror he saw there, but a slow and creeping dread. Perhaps he was able to recognise it because it was probably the same look he saw every morning in the mirror. The look of someone who knew they were standing on a precipice over certain death.

"Okay, so I was trying to talk to you," Harry admitted. "No-one's telling me anything. What the hell happened at the Ministry? What's happening now?"

Iana's glare melted away, and she slumped back against the suit of armour with a muffled clank. "You're better off not knowing. Father said he'd handle it."

"Your father?" Harry asked. Did she really have that much faith in him? "The man that hid behind you when Voldemort turned up?"

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying." Harry raised his hands as a kind of half-apology. "What can your father do about Voldemort? I don't think he's even talking to Dumbledore."

"Maybe you didn't notice, with how much your family likes to slum it around muggles, but the Malfoy name carries quite a bit of weight," said Iana. "He's gathering allies. Calling in favours. Dumbledore and his stupid sycophants—" she paused a second, seemingly realising that Harry's family fell into that group "—no offense, I guess. Well, they'd just get in the way."

The hopelessness in her voice as she said it belied the forced confidence of her words.

"And Voldemort's just going to sit around and let that happen?"

She shrugged. "I guess so. I'm here. Father isn't leaving the Manor. Even the Dark Lord isn't powerful enough to think he can breach our enchantments."

"You're not being told anything either," Harry realised suddenly. "Your dad just left as soon as he could and he hasn't told you anything since, has he?"

Iana's glare returned. It seemed he'd hit a nerve. "Owls aren't secure," she said firmly. "Especially not at Hogwarts."

"Right," said Harry, not bothering to hide his patronising tone. "That must be it."

"Go kiss a Dementor," Iana hissed as she shoved him against the wall. "I gave you your answers. It's not my fault you're too dense to see the strategy. What did you expect him to do? March up to the Dark Lord and challenge him to an honour duel?"

"Seems like it might have a better chance of working than hiding at home," Harry snapped back.

Iana glowered. "He's not hiding! The Dark Lord has agents everywhere. I guess I can't expect someone like you to understand, though."

"Agents— you mean like Rosier?"

That took the wind out of her sails a bit. Her shoulders sagged. "He was meant to be one of Father's allies. The Dark Lord must have gotten to him with an Imperius Curse."

There was a distant look in her eyes, and Harry could tell she was thinking about the events of Halloween. "What really happened on Halloween?" he asked. "How did you end up at the Ministry?"

"Why do you want to know? Going to run straight to Dumbledore with it, are you?" Iana asked. As she was speaking, something changed in her expression. The tiredness was replaced by anger.

"What? No I—"

But it was too late, with a vicious kick to his shin, Iana jumped past him and back out into the open Hall. Before Harry was able to limp after her, she was gone in the direction of the Slytherin common room.

o-o

Christmas was all too long in coming, but at long last classes ended, and Harry was able to climb aboard the Hogwarts Express alongside everyone else who was heading home for holiday.

In his compartment of the train, Dean and Seamus were attempting to one-up each other with tales of drunken excess from previous years while Neville sat quietly reading over some Herbology text. Ron was staying at Hogwarts as his parents were visiting Charlie for Christmas again. Apparently Mrs Weasley had given up on her mostly fruitless yearly attempts to lure all of her sons home.

Effie had joined them too, as it turned out that most of her own friends had elected to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas. She sat next to Neville and across from Harry, and spent most of the time giving him the stink-eye.

He probably had it coming. After all, he'd barely spoken to her at all since Halloween and it was probably only the presence of his friends that had held her back from telling him exactly what she thought about it all. He knew she'd almost certainly guessed some of what happened. She could be frustratingly sharp at times, and combined with her sisterly instinct for knowing exactly how to cause Harry the maximum annoyance, it meant she was rarely far off the mark.

"So," she began with feigned brightness, "what are you all doing for Christmas?"

Seamus was the first to answer. "We're going to my Uncle's this year," he said with a scowl. "He's a bloody puritan, he is. And a muggle to boot but me mam said I needed to visit so here I am."

"Ow, tough luck there," said Dean as he grinned unsympathetically. "I'll knock one back for you!"

"Yeah, piss off."

"What about you, Neville?" Effie asked, turning to look at him with a forced smile. "You doing anything fun?"

"Doubt it," he grumbled, as he folded his book closed, his thumb keeping the page. "Mum and Dad have been snowed under at work. Probably means another Christmas with Great Uncle Algie."

Harry couldn't help but grimace. Neville's Uncle Algie could be most kindly described as stark raving bonkers.

"What about you two?" Neville asked in return. That prompted a self-satisfied grin from Effie as she turned to look at Harry.

"Yes, Harry, what are we doing this year?" she asked pointedly. "I was thinking I might spend it sulking in my bedroom. What about you?"

"You sure that's not what Harry's going to be doing?" Dean asked. Harry wasn't sure if he was oblivious, or merely happy to play along with Effie's needling.

"Oh, yes!" she said as she snapped her fingers with an exaggerated gesture. "That's right. I was thinking I'd spend it with our friends and family instead. You sure I can't convince you to join us?" she asked Harry.

"Har har," said Harry sarcastically. "Dunno why you put so much effort into studying. Should just become a comedian instead."

"Come on, Harry," said Seamus cheerfully. "Buck up! You've been a right grump for months now. You sure your name isn't Ebenezer?"

Harry eyed each one of his friends, and found them all looking at him with poorly veiled concern. He sighed. "Bah. Humbug."

That at least elicited a laugh from Dean and Seamus, and the beginnings of a smile from Effie. Neville just looked lost. Before he could ask the obvious question, though, Effie took pity on him.

"It's from a Muggle Christmas story," she said. It probably didn't help much but Neville nodded at her gratefully all the same.

"Whatever crap it was that got you into such a grump doesn't matter," said Seamus, his enthusiasm obviously buoyed by Harry's very partial thawing. "You're not even going to have to think about Malfoy until we're back to school."

"Unless you want to," Dean added with a suggestive wink.

Effie held up a hand. "Ew. Just. Ew."

"Sorry Ef," said Dean, trying what he probably thought of as a winning smile. "I couldn't— Ow!"

Effie withdrew the shoe which had probably left a reasonable indentation on Dean's shin. "It's Effie," she said with a menacing glare.

For some reason that marked the limit of Harry's ability to sustain his carefully cultivated misery. It started as a chuckle, but soon it grew to a full-voiced belly laugh that had him doubling over for breath.

Soon the cabin was filled with jokes, good natured ribbing and no small amount of laughter. It seemed no matter how intent Harry was on being miserable, his sister really wasn't going to have any of it.

o-o

Despite everything, Harry found he was simply unable to slip back into the cycle of pessimism and formless worry once he was surrounded by his family.

There was still a tension there. James and Lily looked just a little wrung out, and Harry knew that it was because they'd probably placed themselves right at the forefront of the fight against Voldemort's return. Sirius too, was prone to the occasional bout of thoughtfulness, and Peter looked positively skittish some of the time. Probably because he was still in the doghouse for nodding off on Halloween. There was also the big gap left in the family by the continued absence of Remus.

But none of that really mattered. Whatever threats there might be out there waiting for them all, they were nearly all there now, and Harry thought that maybe the fragility of that Christmas scene was what made it seem so precious. When his thoughts turned to darker things, as they were still prone to do, he'd reflect on the fact that in all likelihood this was the last Christmas they'd all spend together.

The comfortable family atmosphere couldn't last forever, though. It all came crashing down just before Harry finally decided to head up to bed late in the evening of Christmas Day. Sirius and Peter had both headed home an hour or so earlier, with promises to be back the following day, of course, when James jumped up from where he and Lily were lounging comfortably against each other.

Lily's surprised yelp was drowned out by a thunderous knocking on the door. James wasted no time in running to the door. As he did so he called over his shoulder.

"It's Dumbledore."

That was the signal for Harry and Effie to immediately try to follow their father, but Lily tried to block their way. "No," she told them. "It might not be safe, you should—"

But Harry was having none of it, he ducked under her arm, and shook off her attempt to grab him. He ignored her shouts as he ran to follow his father.

James was just pulling the door open when Harry slid around the corner, his fluffy Christmas socks providing almost no traction on the polished wood flooring of the hall.

"Harry, you should—"

He was stopped by Dumbledore's forceful arrival. He pushed his way in, a small, bedraggled figure in tow, and slammed it shut behind him. Harry recognised the person accompanying Dumbledore instantly.

"Malfoy!"

Usually that would have warranted at least some form of sarcastic reply, but this time, she didn't even look up. It was only at that point that Harry realised just how dishevelled Iana looked. Her face was blotchy with grime and the hair, which hung across much of her face like a curtain, was encrusted with dirt and blood. Her clothes too were torn up and filthy. One hand was clamped around something small and silvery, her grip tight enough that her knuckles were completely white. When she finally did look up, her eyes were black, with bloodshot whites and she seemed to look right through him.

At that moment Lily arrived, with Effie close on her heels. "Harry you—" She halted as she took in the scene in the hall before restarting. "You poor thing!" she said, clearly in the direction of Iana. "James, what's going on?"

"Damned if I know," said James, shifting his gaze to Dumbledore. "What's happened, Albus?"

"Come here," said Lily as she beckoned to Iana, not waiting for the Headmaster's reply. "We should get you patched up." She turned to Effie and nodded her head in the direction of the stairs. "Go and start running the bath. The poor girl looks like she needs it."

When Effie didn't move immediately, her eyes tracking over the scene with obvious interest, Lily raised her voice just slightly. "Effie!" she said sharply, prompting a startled jump. "Bath! Now."

With obvious reluctance, and a final expectant glance in Harry's direction, Effie turned and jogged off in the direction of the stairs.

"Miss Malfoy is uninjured," said Dumbledore, raising his voice after concluding a hissed conversation with James which Harry had not been able to hear. "There are more important matters to discuss. I have summoned the Order to meet, so perhaps it would be best if—"

"Uninjured?" Lily asked archly. Harry could well recognise the tone of voice his mother used for that question. He winced, knowing what was likely to follow. The pitch of her voice raised just slightly. "She is covered in mud and blood! What happened, Albus?"

"I will explain the full unfortunate series of events just as soon as the Order is convened," said Dumbledore, unwisely in Harry's opinion.

"Well in that case I shall use the time to make sure the poor girl isn't—"

Before she could get any further, James pulled the door open again, and Harry could hear the staccato pop of apparations, and Sirius was the first through the door.

"What's going on?" he said, stowing the wand he'd been holding in his hand into a pocket of his robes. His eyes came to rest on Iana, and widened fractionally. He turned to Dumbledore. "Lucius?"

"We should retire to somewhere more comfortable," said Dumbledore. He still had that same air of immortal stability, but something about it was off. Harry couldn't put his finger on it.

Whatever it was, Sirius and the other new arrivals clearly picked up on it too. Everyone quickly started filing towards the dining room. Lily looked up from where she was fussing over a still silent Iana, and Harry could see the frustration on her face as she met Dumbledore's gaze. It was obvious he wanted her present, despite everything.

It was also obvious that Harry wasn't about to be included in the meeting, though he still had a little hope that he might be able to wheedle something from his parents once it was all over.

"Mum," he said quietly, drawing her attention. "You go. I'll take her up to the bath."

After a moment of indecision, Lily nodded. "Thank you," she said as offered Harry a smile that didn't quite reach all the way to her eyes, which remained troubled. "She doesn't seem to be hurt, but she's clearly in shock so she might not be able to do it for herself. If so, just stay with her until I can get out of the meeting, okay?"

"Okay," said Harry with a quick nod of his head.

He reached down to take Iana's empty hand. It was cold and clammy to the touch, but as soon as his hand slipped into hers, she grasped it with a strength he wouldn't have thought her capable of. He led her slowly up the stairs, turning back once to see Lily giving him an unreadable look just before she headed into the dining room.

It wasn't difficult to steer Iana gently in the direction of the bathroom, where he could hear the sound of the bath rapidly filling up. They were soon met by Effie who bounced back and forth on her feet while her hands fumbled nervously.

"Is she okay?" she asked uncertainly, her eyes flicking from Harry, to Iana, and back again rapidly.

"Doubt it," said Harry. Had Iana not been there, maybe he would have made a more biting remark, but he didn't want to spook her. "Is the bath ready?"

"Just about," said Effie. Mercifully, she also seemed to understand the gravity of the situation, even if neither of them really knew what it was. "I made it nice and warm. I thought that's what I'd probably prefer."

Harry nodded. He tried to let go of Iana's hand, but found that she only clutched at him all the harder.

"You should have a bath, Iana," he said gently, trying to ignore the way his fingers were being ground together. "You'll feel much better after one. I promise."

Still, she didn't let go, and Harry shot a helpless look at Effie who shrugged, neatly communicating her own cluelessness. Harry wasn't sure what prompted it, but he pulled Iana closer in, and wrapped his free arm around her in a hug. It was something which he'd sometimes found to work with Effie.

For a moment, Iana stiffened, but then she went very nearly limp, and wrapped her own free arm around Harry too. Then, very quietly, she started to weep. Had Harry not been close enough to smell the faint scent of brimstone in her hair, he might not have heard the way her breath caught every few seconds, but with her held tight in his arms, there was no mistaking it.

He rubbed her back in what was hopefully a comforting way. "It's okay," he said in the same soothing tone of voice he had occasionally used when Effie was younger. "You're safe now. You're safe here."

Slowly, as Harry continued to whisper his best comforting words, the hitches in her breathing slowed. Finally, after what must have been a few minutes at least, she spoke.

"He's dead." Her voice was more like a croak than the usual smooth, cultured tones she ordinarily used. The words were followed by another bout of quiet tears which Harry could feel starting to soak through the fabric of his shirt.

It was far too much to hope for that she meant Voldemort. Harry doubted that Dumbledore would have looked so grave, or Iana would have been so devastated if she was talking about Voldemort.

"Do you mean your dad?" Harry asked, once the tears had slowed down once more.

She stiffened in his arms, and Harry realised that probably wasn't the most thoughtful thing to say. Effie's silently mouthed 'really?' confirmed his suspicion.

Despite that, Iana looked up at him and finally seemed to realise where she was. Her eyes, which had been unfocused before, locked onto his own, and she pushed him away. Harry didn't fight it, and stepped back from her.

"He is not my father," she snapped. Then, seemingly missing Harry's embrace, she wrapped her own arms around her waist. "But… Yes. He's dead." She slumped gracelessly to the floor, her legs bent awkwardly under her.

Harry sat down opposite her, legs crossed. He was soon joined by Effie.

"You want to talk about it?" Effie asked, looking unapologetic when Harry gave her an irritated glance. If his question had been thoughtless, what the hell was what?

Iana didn't descend into tears again. "No," she said simply. She clutched her arms around her a little tighter.

"That's fine," said Harry as he silenced any further questions from Effie with a look. "What about a bath? You're looking pretty grubby. Maybe it'll make you feel better?"

"No."

"Okay then," said Harry, feeling a little lost. "What do you want to do?"

"Don't know."

Harry and Effie shared a helpless look. He really hoped the meeting was done soon, but judging by the raised voices he could just about hear it didn't seem likely.

"That's fine too," said Harry, utterly lost. "How about we just sit here for a bit then?"

The lack of response he got from Iana wasn't exactly positive, but it wasn't another 'no', so maybe it still counted? He wasn't sure how long they sat there, the pregnant silence filling the corridor.

Eventually, Iana did speak.

"The Dark Lord attacked the Manor," she said. Her voice was still raw and sore sounding. She gripped the silvery something in her hand even tighter.

"Can you go and get Iana some water?" Harry asked Effie.

"But—"

Harry forestalled the almost automatic objection. "Please?"

Ignoring his sister's unnecessary huffing and puffing as she stood up and darted in the direction of the stairs, Harry turned back to Iana. "How did he manage that? Isn't the Manor one of the best protected places in Britain?"

"It was." Iana shrugged as if that didn't really matter any more. "Didn't matter."

"So what happened?" Harry asked, unable to restrain his curiosity. She'd raised the subject, anyway.

"Uncle Orontius let him in," she said simply. It took Harry a moment to work out who she was talking about, until he remembered that Crabbe's father was called Orontius. "Along with some of his followers."

"Imperius Curse?" Harry asked.

"Does it matter? He's dead now too."

That shut Harry up long enough for Effie to return with a glass of water which Iana accepted wordlessly. She gulped it all down in a few seconds, and put it down on the floor next to her.

Just as Effie started to open her mouth, no doubt to ask Iana what had happened again, the other girl stood up.

"I think I'll have that bath now," she said shortly. Without saying anything else, she retreated into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut, neatly cutting Effie short.

She turned on Harry, hands set on her hips in a fashion that was less intimidating than she likely imagined. "What did you say to her?"