An Unconventional Christmas

Thursday, 24 December 1942

Breakfast Christmas Eve morning was a casual affair. People came and went as they pleased. The McGonagalls were offering a full Scottish breakfast for their guests, although those with less hearty tastes requested some modifications to their plates. Rosie and Tartan were happy to oblige.

After breakfast, everyone slowly migrated into the drawing room, which was larger than the dining room and more suited to holding everyone. The last two people to enter the drawing room were Charles and Gliona. "Good morning, everyone!"

Charles's greeting drew everyone's attention to their hosts. Minerva noticed that Charles was wearing a kilt, sporran, and plaid, and smiled as she realized what the family was about to do. She heard Bianca Borzellieri giggle softly at the sight of Charles McGonagall in a kilt, and Isabella whisper a chastisement.

"It is Christmas Eve, and we were hoping that all of our guests would join us outside to continue our family's traditions. This Christmas, I believe that this tradition in particular has a special significance for us all," Charles continued.

The McGonagalls in the room stood first, followed by the Chases. Rolanda followed Minerva's lead, and looked around pointedly at her family for them to join. Isabella urged her family along.

They moved as a group to the Entrance Hall, where Tartan and Rosie met them with their cloaks and shoes. Once they were dressed a little warmer, they made their way outside with Charles and Gliona leading the way. The air was crisp and cold, and the ground was crunchy and icy. Clouds covered the sky, and that paired with the still-rising sun made for a grey morning.

The group slowed to a stop as they reached a rowan tree growing alone, about halfway between McGonagall Manor and the forest, not far from the stables. Charles and Gliona turned to face the group of people they'd drawn outside. "It is a tradition in this family that we burn the branches of a rowan tree every Christmas Eve. The McGonagalls learned this tradition from Scottish friends not long after migrating from Ireland centuries ago, and the MacVanishes," Charles inclined his head at his wife, "have been doing it for longer."

Gliona continued, "We burn the branches of the rowan tree to signify the burning away of any bad feelings between our family and friends." Gliona paused as she looked solemnly around at the assembled guests. A few people shifted uncomfortably. "We put aside any mistrust or jealousy for the Yuletide, and hopefully, for the year to come." She allowed a small, comforting smile to grace her lips as she scanned the group before her.

"Typically, Gliona and I remove just one forked branch to burn, but we thought that perhaps this Christmas Eve, we would remove one for each family joining us this season," Charles continued. Beside him, Gliona had turned to the tree and started removing branches with her wand.

Gliona proceeded to bring branches with many forks and leaves around to the Robinsons, the Borzellieris, and the Chases, leaving one for herself as she returned to Charles's side.

"While by no means conventional, we have become a family," Gliona remarked. "Each one of you is welcome here at McGonagall Manor, now and anytime you wish to return. We hope that you will take that to heart, and join us as we burn away any negativity in our past." As she spoke, she held the branch in her hand towards Charles, who lit it with his wand.

Norman and Evelien Robinson looked at each other and smiled slightly. Evelien offered him the branch Gliona had given her, and he lit it with his wand as Charles had. Bianca and Vincenzo Borzellieri, along with James and Amelia Chase, followed suit. Halina put an arm around her sister's shoulders, and Sylvia leaned into the hug. Mitchell, holding Chris, smiled at River, who stood beside him. River smiled back. Minerva and Rolanda grinned at each other. Isabella had tears in her eyes. Mitchell put his free arm around her.

Gliona led Evelien, Bianca, and Amelia back into the house with their burning branches to put in the dining room fireplace while Charles led the rest of the group over to the stables. As they walked, Rolanda asked Minerva, "Do you really do that every year?"

Minerva nodded, smiling, "I'm glad they didn't shy away from what the tradition is all about this year. We needed it now more than ever, I think."

Once the group reached their destination, they found resting against one of the stable walls a birch log and quite a few evergreen branches that had been cut down the day before while the Hogwarts students had still been on the train. Jon levitated it away from the wall, moving it to an area where more people could gather around it. William knelt down beside the log, drawing a knife rather than his wand. "Alright, now what should our woman look like this year?" he asked.

Rolanda blinked in confusion and looked over at Minerva with a look of growing alarm; Minerva laughed, "Don't ask me why, but every year we carve a woman into a log, decorate her with evergreen," she gestured to the branches still leaning against the stable, "and burn the log in the big fireplace in the dining room."

Rolanda raised her eyebrows and commented, "Sounds like something superstitious Muggles would do to ward off witches."

Minerva shrugged, "I don't think that's what it's about. It's a Scottish thing."

Minerva, Rolanda, and River stood back as William, Jon, Mason, Michael, and Miranda excitedly decorated the log. Mitchell and Isabella showed Chris how to attach a single evergreen branch, but their little family mostly watched. Minerva nudged Rolanda with a smile and got down on her knees to join her family. Rolanda smiled back and, shrugging, joined Minerva on the ground. River hovered around the log for a moment before Chris walked over and urged him towards Mitchell and Isabella, who gave him small, only slightly awkward smiles as he joined them. Something in what Charles and Gliona had said seemed to have had a genuine impact on everyone as they talked and laughed as though nothing awkward or unusual had ever happened between them. The witches who had brought the rowan branches inside rejoined them not too long after they started their decorating, all chatting with each other.

Once the log was complete, with the figure of a woman carved into it and covered with evergreen branches, William levitated it. Their group walked back into the manor with him leading the way. They walked together all the way into the dining room, where the large log joined the branches that were nearly burnt to ashes in the fireplace.

"So, I take it this is your yule log tradition?" Norman Robinson asked.

"Yes," William replied, turning to Norman as he stowed his wand in his sleeve holster.

Norman and Evelien exchanged a look. Minerva noticed Rolanda raise her eyebrows at a corner of the ceiling significantly. Norman finally asked, "Well, we have one as well…we were wondering if there was a fireplace we could burn the log we brought? It is sprinkled with red wine. It's a family tradition of ours…" he looked to his wife.

"It comes from my family," Evelien supplied.

Gliona approached Evelien and put a hand on her shoulder, smiling kindly, "Well, I've never heard of sprinkling a yule log with red wine, but I'm sure that it smells delightful. Why don't we all move to the drawing room? You can burn your log there."

All four of the Robinsons smiled, and after a brief murmured discussion between Norman and Evelien, Norman left to supposedly fetch the log they brought. As the rest of their group migrated to the drawing room, Minerva fell into step beside Rolanda. She smirked at her friend, "Sprinkled with red wine?"

Rolanda rolled her eyes, "Is that really so outlandish?"

Minerva shrugged, still smirking lightly, "I suppose not. I'm just not surprised that it comes from the French part of your family."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

Minerva laughed, "Nothing, nothing."

Rolanda harrumphed dramatically, but she was smiling. "It really does smell lovely. It's cherry wood."

Minerva hummed in approval.

The McGonagalls, Chases, Robinsons, and Borzellieris settled into the drawing room, and not much later Norman brought the cherry wood log down and put it in the fireplace. Much like the night before, people broke off into different groups as many different conversations happened all at once. Today, though, the families mingled a little more. William, Jon, Diana, Norman, and River were sitting around a chess board, mostly chatting while Norman and Jon casually played each other. Vincenzo and Bianca sat with Gliona, Charles, James, and Amelia – who they were closer in age to than Mitchell's parents – starting on their first alcoholic drinks of the day. Mason, Michael, and Miranda sat together by the fireplace playing Exploding Snap. Minerva and Rolanda found themselves sitting with Halina, Sylvia, Evelien, Mitchell, Isabella, and Chris, mostly observing as Chris once again became the center of attention. Sylvia, seated next to her sister and directly across from Minerva, was the only other one present not completely wrapped up in Chris's charm. She was sitting back, cradling a glass of red wine.

While Halina and Evelien sat enraptured by Chris's chatter and Mitchell and Isabella's stories of him, Sylvia made eye contact with the two teens across from her and asked, "Rolanda, how old are you?"

"Sixteen," Rolanda replied. "I'll be seventeen in July."

Sylvia hummed in response, her eyes trailing over to Evelien. Turning back to Rolanda, she asked, "Does your mother let you drink wine?"

Rolanda laughed, "Sometimes, with a meal."

"Well, it's Christmas Eve," Sylvia jerked her head subtly in Evelien's direction, "Ask."

A slow grin appeared on Rolanda's face, and she leaned towards her mother. "Maman? Maman!" Evelien turned, along with Halina, Mitchell, and Isabella. "Can I have some wine?"

Halina scoffed in amusement. Evelien raised her eyebrows, "It's not even –" Rolanda directed her eyes down towards Evelien's glass pointedly. Evelien covered the top with her hand and sighed, but smiled as she shook her head, "It's Christmas Eve. But!" she interjected as delight spread over Rolanda's features, "You may have only one glass now, and one glass at lunch and dinner. Understood?"

"Yes, Maman," Rolanda agreed happily.

After calling for Rosie, Sylvia asked, "Minerva, would you like some?"

Halina looked round at her twin, "You're not going to have her ask me?"

Sylvia raised her eyebrows at Halina, "Did you forget the girl is of age, dear sister?"

Halina opened her mouth wordlessly.

Sylvia grinned, "I won't force her, but you've got to let her decide for herself."

"I'll have a glass," Minerva replied, feeling a little giddy at this privilege of adulthood.

Rosie the house-elf popped away and reappeared seconds later with the same bottle of wine the other witches had been drinking from and two more glasses. Just as Minerva took a sip, a small explosion from the center of the room drew everyone's attention. Michael and Miranda were laughing as Mason stood holding a singed card looking annoyed.

"Aw, come on, Mason," Michael crowed. He stood and offered his hand to his cousin, "Good game?"

Mason sighed, shaking his head, and took Michael's proffered hand. "Good game."

Miranda climbed to her feet and skipped over to Halina. She placed both hands on her mother's arm and asked, "Mummy, can I play the song I just learned?"

Halina beamed at her daughter, "Of course! Do you want me to come sit with you?"

"No," Miranda replied simply. "I can do it on my own." With that, she turned and flounced away, the skirt of her robes swirling around her. Halina turned back to the women around her and pouted slightly. Evelien laughed and leant briefly against Halina in support.

"Appreciate these years while you can," Halina sighed, meeting her oldest child's eyes ruefully. Mitchell smiled pityingly and looked down at his son, sitting in Isabella's lap.

Miranda made her way to the opposite side of the room, where an upright piano stood against the wall. The piano had been a Christmas present to Halina from William their first Christmas at McGonagall Manor just two years ago, after their home had been destroyed by Grindelwald supporters. They hadn't moved her grand piano yet, and it had been lost in the attack. Although he couldn't replace the years of memories of teaching each of their children to play, he'd given it to her hoping that it would help her feel more comfortable in his ancestral home.

The McGonagall children had taken to the piano at different levels of skill and interest. Mitchell played methodically, with skill but no artistry, and ultimately had no interest in it. He could still read simple sheet music, and he knew the notes of the keys, but he couldn't remember how to play all but one of the songs Halina had taught him, a fun little drinking song. Minerva played better than her brother, and with a little more interest, but as with sword dancing, she stopped practicing nearly as much after starting at Hogwarts. Michael had enjoyed the piano but had unfortunately very little skill in playing, and gave up completely as soon as he started at Hogwarts, pretending as if the lessons had never happened in his shame. Miranda, though, had not yet started at Hogwarts, and was still enjoying her lessons. To Minerva, Miranda seemed the best of them at playing the piano. She hoped Miranda would keep up with it once she started school.

Miranda removed the cover from the piano keys, and as she did so, James said, "Miranda! Are you going to play a song for us?"

"I am!" Miranda announced, grinning at her grandfather.

James looked back over at his daughters and called across the room, smiling, "You've been keeping up with the lessons, I see."

Halina smiled back, "Miranda has taken to it very enthusiastically."

All eyes turned to Miranda as she sat on the bench. She took a moment to position her fingers, took a deep breath, and began to play. After the first few notes, Minerva recognized the song as "O Christmas Tree." Minerva sat back and sipped her wine, smiling as she listened to her sister play. Miranda played with both hands beautifully and smoothly. It certainly sounded better than any of the other McGonagall children could have done.

Amelia stood and came around the couch she was sitting on to grab the case she always brought with her to family gatherings. She made eye contact and held it up questioningly with a smile. Miranda paused her song and nodded at her grandmother. Amelia opened the case and removed her violin. She'd played the violin since childhood, and with it had instilled a love of music in Halina that had impacted her entire life. Halina wasn't sure she'd be teaching at the Wizarding Academy for the Dramatic Arts without her mother's love for violin.

Miranda resumed playing, and Amelia, after listening to a few notes, joined with her violin. Michael walked around to take a picture of them. Doing so seemed to remind him of something, as he suddenly looked over at Isabella, whose expression did not change as their eyes met. Michael looked away quickly and awkwardly, back down at his camera.

Once the song was over, everyone clapped. Miranda stood and hugged Amelia. "Halina, sing with us for one?" Amelia asked.

Halina hesitated and looked at her daughter, "Only if it's alright with Miranda."

Miranda nodded and gave her a small smile, "Come sing, Mum."

Halina grinned and walked over to join her mother and daughter. After a minute of consultation, Amelia raised her bow and Miranda positioned her fingers again. Miranda started playing, and after a few notes Halina began singing, "O Holy Night." The room was silent save for the piano and Halina's voice, and eventually Amelia's violin. Everyone listened, enraptured by the music. Halina's voice had always had a soothing quality to it for Minerva. It was still the loveliest singing voice she'd ever heard. She was as gifted as she was technically skilled, and it was no wonder that she'd made a career of teaching others how to sing. Listening to Halina sing now reminded Minerva of the better years of their relationship, when she would tell her mother anything – when Halina was always the first person that she sought comfort from. She looked over at Sylvia, who was watching her sister sing with a small smile, and felt a little guilty for confiding in Sylvia last night and not her mother.

The song ended, and everyone clapped again. James asked Miranda, "Have you learned to play 'Carol of the Bells'?"

Miranda grinned proudly and looked over at her mother. Halina laughed, "She was absolutely determined to perfect it before you all arrived."

James laughed, "I expect nothing less from our Miranda."

"'Carol of the Bells?'" Rolanda asked looking towards her parents.

Evelien and Norman exchanged a look, and Evelien said, "We sing that together every year. Well," she paused and glanced hesitantly at Isabella, whose face remained impassive for a different reason than it'd had before with Michael.

"Rebecca always sang soprano," Rolanda finished bluntly. "Maman can sing any part…" At the look on Halina's face, she supplied with a half-smile, "It's a Veela thing. Anyway…we've still been missing someone. I can't sing."

Everyone avoided eye contact with each other for a few tense seconds before Halina took a deep breath and said, "Well, I'm a soprano." The Robinsons looked at her, "We sing it every year, too. My dad is a tenor, and well, William is more of a baritone, but…"

"But William can't sing," William interjected. "He tries his best for his wife."

Halina smiled at him sheepishly.

"Does this mean I'm free?" River joked. "I'm our half-decent tenor. Dad's a bass, and a very good one."

"Well, if we're only doing one person per part, I suppose you are free," Evelien replied, eyeing the hopeful looks on William and River's faces.

"It's just for fun," James said gently. "We don't need to force anyone to sing who doesn't want to sing."

Halina looked hesitantly at Evelien, "And you're not going to…" she gestured around at the assembled men with a significant look.

Evelien laughed and leaned forward conspiratorially, "Believe it or not, Veelas can control that." She straightened and wrapped her arms around Norman's arm, "I already have the only man whose attention I want." Norman smiled down at her.

After a brief discussion, Halina, Evelien, James, and Norman confirmed that they would sing soprano, alto, tenor, and bass while Miranda played. Halina leaned on the arm of the chair her father was sitting in, facing Miranda's back, while Norman and Evelien stood next to the piano. Norman had his arm loosely around his wife's waist. A little crease of determination appeared between Miranda's eyes as she started to play. Halina smiled proudly as she watched Miranda, allowing her to play an intro and become comfortable instead of jumping into the song as was more traditional. Miranda looked up at Halina, and the two of them nodded at each other. Halina straightened her back and inhaled deeply. Her eyebrows raised ever so slightly as she began to sing, "Hark! How the bells, sweet silver bells…"

Evelien joined her next, and the women made eye contact as they started singing together. She only had to sing, "Ding…dong…ding…dong," but her voice rang beautifully and clearly all the same. James then joined, and he and Halina exchanged fond looks as they sung. When Norman joined, they were all singing the same words. All four voices together filled the room and sent chills up Minerva's arms, making her hairs stand on end. James broke away as the other three continued with the same lyrics, and his voice rose above theirs for a few notes. Minerva's grandfather's voice filled her heart and brought a smile to her face. He rejoined them, and their voices rose together. Minerva and Rolanda looked over at each other, and both of them had smiles on their faces. Understanding passed between them that they were both delightfully surprised at how well this family gathering was going, and they leaned against each other.

The singers repeated most of the song, growing more comfortable singing with each other with each note. Miranda played skillfully and surely, although she still had that little crease of determination between her eyes. The singers gestured as they sung, their hands synchronized with the rise and fall of their voices. Minerva caught Halina making eye contact with William at one point, and saw the warmth pass between them as William smiled broadly and proudly at his wife, and Halina's eyes shone with love for her husband. The moment only lasted for a second, though, before Halina turned back to look at Evelien.

As the song ended, and Halina and Evelien sung their last notes, Evelien turned to smile at Norman, who tightened his grip around her waist as he sung the final, low note of the song. They grinned at each other as he ended his note, and Norman placed a kiss on Evelien's forehead. The room erupted in applause, and the singers found themselves applauding each other as well. Michael lowered his camera so he could clap too. Minerva found her eyes wandering to her other side, where Mitchell and Isabella were still sitting with Chris. Mitchell had his arm around Isabella's shoulders, whose head was buried in the crook of his neck. Minerva watched as Isabella's hand came up to her face, and could have sworn the motion she made was that of wiping away a tear. That observation only perplexed Minerva, but she supposed Isabella, who Minerva admittedly did not know very well, could have a strong love for music that Minerva was as yet unaware of.

The music put everyone in good spirits, and the rest of the morning passed with loud conversations and a lot of laughter. Halina, James, Amelia, Evelien, Norman, and Miranda stayed around the piano chatting about music. That left Minerva, Rolanda, Sylvia, Mitchell, Isabella, and Chris of their original group. Minerva, Rolanda, and Sylvia were far less interested in Chris's baby stories than Halina and Evelien had been. Chris, though, was not about to be ignored, and decided to move and make himself at home between Minerva and Rolanda. They couldn't help but laugh at their nephew, and shared a small grin over his head.

"Your mum's talented," Rolanda said to Minerva.

"Yes, she is," Minerva agreed. "So is yours."

Rolanda shrugged, "Ah, well, not really though, wouldn't you agree? It's something all Veelas can do. It's nothing special when she does it."

"Well to my simple human ears, it sounded quite special," Minerva joked. Rolanda laughed. "But I suppose we can agree that my mum's more special."

"Don't let Halina hear you say that," Sylvia joked. "It might go to her head."

"Like it already hasn't?" Mitchell remarked. Sylvia shot him an amused look.

"Only I can make jokes like that about my sister, young man," Sylvia said with mock-sternness. Mitchell rose his hands in surrender. "No, in all honesty, Halina has always been a good singer, and she's worked hard to be as, well, spectacular as she is. She deserves all of the praise."

"It still feels like magic when she sings," Minerva murmured, swirling the wine in her glass absently.

Sylvia gave her a kind smile, "I know what you mean."

"You never had an interest in music?" Rolanda asked.

Sylvia shrugged, "Not really. I like music well enough. I certainly like to listen to it. I feel at home around it. That's why I like working at the Academy. Having parents and a sister who were always playing instruments or singing does that to a person. They certainly tried to teach me to play piano, or the violin, or sing, but I never took to any of it. I liked climbing trees and rocks and being with the horses far more than I ever enjoyed their attempts to make me like music the way they did. That's why I became a mediwitch; I found an interest in patching myself up after I'd inevitably hurt myself on my adventures."

"Did you play Quidditch?" Rolanda asked eagerly.

"Ah, I never found a position that I enjoyed, but I do love flying and my favorite team are the Harpies," Sylvia replied.

Rolanda's face absolutely shone at that, and Minerva smiled, settling down to listen to her best friend talk enthusiastically about her favorite subject.

Not too long later, Rosie and Tartan appeared in the drawing room to announce lunch. Everyone rose and migrated back towards the dining room. As they walked into the hallway, Minerva noticed Michael slip into the crowd from the direction of the staircase, and blinked in surprise. She hadn't even noticed he'd been missing. She watched as he slid up next to Isabella, and as Isabella leaned against him as he said something quietly to her. Isabella smiled and nodded at him, and they parted. Minerva again found herself perplexed by Isabella.

Lunch carried on much the same as conversation in the drawing room had, although people sat more with their families at the table. Minerva found herself watching Mitchell and Isabella interact with Chris as they made sure he ate his lunch. She would glance over at Michael every now and then, but her younger brother did not engage in conversation with Isabella at all throughout the meal. When lunch ended, though, Isabella left without Mitchell, and Michael followed her closely behind. Looking around, Minerva was under the impression that she was the only one who was noticing this strange transaction happening between Isabella and Michael.

"Well, I need to be going back to Flamel," River said, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. He lowered his wrist, where he'd been checking his watch. "We have a meeting that starts in twenty minutes."

Evelien stood to hug and kiss her son goodbye. River laughed and said something to her in French, with fondness in his voice.

Rolanda interjected loudly, "Yes, Maman, one hour is nothing." She gave her brother a significant look that Minerva knew her well enough to interpret as her chastising River for drawing attention to himself and then isolating his audience. River grinned at her.

As River left, the group slowly left the dining room in small groups. Halina led Evelien and Norman out to show them her real practice room, with her parents in tow. Gliona and Charles walked with Vincenzo and Bianca outside to show them their greenhouse, where Gliona grew fresh produce year-round. William, Jon, and Diana walked off together to the library while William told them about something new that he'd discovered doing research in the Library of Family Records. Minerva couldn't help but notice that all of the adults were leaving Sylvia behind, and wondered more about her dynamic with them. Did they really judge her so harshly for the way she lived her life that they intentionally excluded her from things? Or did she simply not fit in with their interests?

"Minerva?" Miranda's voice drew Minerva's attention. "Will you play chess with me?"

Minerva grinned at her little sister. "Absolutely, as long as you're prepared to lose!"

Miranda simply grinned back, and they got up from the table together. As they were leaving, Minerva heard Mason asking Mitchell if he knew where Michael had gone.

Minerva summoned her chess set from her room. Miranda's was already in the drawing room. As they set up their pieces. Rolanda and Mason entered the drawing room. Minerva looked up as they entered and asked, "Where are Aunt Sylvia, Mitchell, and Chris?"

"They went down to the stables to see the horses," Rolanda replied, pulling up a chair to watch the sisters play chess. Mason joined them, although he kept eyeing the door, presumably waiting for Michael.

Minerva and Miranda played aggressively, which made it more entertaining for their audience. Rolanda and Mason goaded the pieces into being even more violent with each other. The four of them were so wrapped up in the game that they barely noticed when Michael joined them. When Minerva finally did notice her little brother, she stared at him in surprise for a few seconds. He gave her a small smile, but quickly looked away, staring determinedly at the board. Minerva turned back to the chessboard herself, deducing from how quietly he and Isabella had been operating, and because of the season, she would not address his sneakiness so bluntly in front of others.

After a cold and damp boat ride over a choppy sea, Isabella Borzellieri arrived, wrapped up in a wool outerrobe, at Azkaban. Tucked safely underneath her layers was a thick envelope filled with photos from the past week, primarily of the past two days. She was slightly nervous about showing Rebecca these photos; she was sure that as much as they would make Rebecca happy, they would make her sadder than any stack of photos Isabella had brought her.

Isabella went through the motions of going through Azkaban's security with the mindlessness of a regular. She removed her layers and handed a guard her envelope of photos as another scanned her with both a Secrecy Sensor and a Probity Probe in turn. Whereas she once watched the guard handling her photos with anxiety, she now waited patiently and without concern as he used his wand to flip through her photos one by one, ensuring that each slip of paper was actually a photograph. Finally, when he returned her photos to her, she signed in and surrendered her wand. The guard needlessly directed her to where to wait for another guard to lead her to a Level Two visitation room.

Not ten minutes later, Isabella found herself seated in a familiar room on one side of a familiar table with a vaguely familiar guard leaning against a wall, watching her with boredom. Not too long after that, Rebecca Robinson was led through the door that led to the rest of the prison. Her cheeks were as sunken, her skin as grey, and her hair was tangled and flat as usual, but through it all her features remained ethereally beautiful. She took after her mother in that way more than either of her siblings did, but Isabella thought, not for the first time, that these days it made Rebecca resemble a vampire more than a Veela.

Rebecca sat down across from Isabella, not even blinking as the chains sprung up to bind her ankles and wrists. She smiled tiredly at her visitor. Isabella smiled back and said, "Happy Christmas."

Rebecca raised her eyebrows, "Is it Christmas?"

"It is Christmas Eve."

"Oh," Rebecca replied simply. Her eyes darted to the thick envelope in Isabella's hands. She hadn't brought one this large in a long time. Rebecca asked conversationally, "How did you get away?"

Isabella looked down at her envelope, grimacing, "Well…I finally told Mitchell."

Rebecca didn't say anything. Slowly, Isabella raised her eyes to look up at Rebecca, who looked mildly amused and a little surprised, "And you're still sitting across from me? Amazing."

Isabella laughed. The women exchanged a knowing glance; they almost never talked about Mitchell, and not only was the acknowledgement of that passing between them, but also that it was okay to talk about him.

"Yes…he was surprised when I told him," Isabella allowed. "He did not understand it, but he accepts it."

"Well," Rebecca cleared her throat, "I'm certainly grateful." She gave Isabella a rueful smile, and added quietly, "I'm sure I'd go mad without you."

Isabella smiled back and looked again at her envelope. She sighed, swallowing back her nervousness, and passed it to Rebecca. The prisoner took it up eagerly. Isabella opened her mouth to explain as Rebecca removed the photos from the envelope, but her words died on her lips. Rebecca would realize what they contained soon.

Sure enough, with each photo that Rebecca looked at, shock spread onto her face. She only managed to slide through a few before looking up at Isabella questioningly, "My family…"

Isabella cleared her throat, "They're spending Christmas at McGonagall Manor."

Rebecca looked back down at the photos, stunned. She swallowed hard as she picked up one of just her parents, siblings, and son decorating their Christmas tree. Chris was in Rolanda's arms. Isabella's heart sank as Rebecca's eyes closed, and she covered her mouth with her hand. "I'm sorry," Isabella said quickly. "I thought –"

"Don't apologize," Rebecca said quickly. She took a deep breath, but when she looked up at Isabella, tears were clearly forming in her reddened eyes. "It's not you, it's –" Rebecca shook her head, and Isabella was surprised to see a flash of anger cross their face, "At first, when you started visiting me, I didn't blame them for not visiting me. I was ashamed. But if you, of all people, can visit me…how dare they play with my son and pretend I'm not here."

Isabella took a deep breath. This was a reaction she had not anticipated. She watched as Rebecca bowed her head, and was alarmed when she heard a sniffle. Isabella reached out a hand across the table, urging Rebecca to take it. Rebecca did, and squeezed it tight. It was the most they could do across the table, even though Rebecca desperately needed so much more. Isabella sat with her in sympathetic silence as she cried for all that she was missing and for all that she'd lost.

Eventually, Rebecca straightened up and wiped her face with her dirty prison robe. Isabella had seen her do this several times before and was not bothered this time.

Finally, Rebecca murmured, "I wish I could be there."

Isabella nodded and murmured, "I wish you could too."

Rebecca laughed, "Imagine that." Isabella gave her a small half-smile. Rebecca added, "Although, I'm sure if I hadn't spent time in Azkaban, we'd still hate each other."

"Probably," Isabella laughed.

They spent the next hour going through the photos together, with Isabella telling stories about them. "…and in that one, your mother is posing with Chris because he just performed his first accidental magic." Rebecca looked up at Isabella quickly. "He flew to her."

"He flew?" Rebecca exclaimed, looking delighted.

Isabella nodded, grinning. Rebecca looked down at the photo with a smile. The longer she gazed at it, though, her smile began to fade. Isabella grimaced understandingly, knowing that Rebecca was thinking her mother didn't deserve that experience. Rebecca sighed, shaking herself a little, and quickly moved to the next photo.

When River returned to McGonagall Manor, nearly everyone had already returned to the drawing room from the places they'd scattered to around the manor. Sylvia and Mitchell had returned from the stables first, after putting Chris down for a nap, followed by Charles, Gliona, Vincenzo, and Bianca from the greenhouse. Halina, James, Amelia, Evelien, and Norman came back downstairs from Halina's music room next. Only William, Jon, and Diana were still missing.

As soon as River entered the room, his family greeted him warmly. He returned their greeting, but then turned to the Borzellieris, looking nervous. They raised their eyebrows in undisguised surprise once they realized they had his attention. River tapped a scroll in his hand nervously before approaching them, "Er, pardon me, Mr. and Mrs. Borzellieri, but Flamel asked me to give you this." He handed over the scroll to Vincenzo.

Bianca and Vincenzo exchanged surprised looks, and Bianca leaned over her husband's shoulder as he inspected the seal. A slow smile appeared on his face, and he looked over at his wife, grinning. She seemed to have come to the same realization.

"Well, what is it?" Gliona asked.

"It's from our son. Arrigo," Bianca said, barely getting the words out as tears sprung to her eyes.

"Arrigo? The one in the newspapers?" Minerva asked. Rolanda gave her a surprised, confused look, and Minerva elaborated, "He leads the Italian Resistance."

"Well, read it!" Gliona encouraged.

"We," Bianca began, looking up and around the room, "we should read it – where is Isabella?" As her sentence changed, she turned sharply to Mitchell.

Everyone looked up and around, also realizing that Isabella was not present. Minerva sat back, wondering if she was finally going to have an answer to the riddle that had been making her mildly curious for the past few hours. A plainly anxious look crossed Mitchell's face as he checked his watch. "Mitchell?" Vincenzo prompted in a slightly ominous tone.

Mitchell hesitated a few seconds more as he looked towards the door. The only sound was the crackling of the drawing room fire. No one was walking towards the door, or coming down the stairs, or Flooing in. He sighed, squared his shoulders, and, instead of directing his answer at the Borzellieris, he turned to the Robinsons and said frankly, "She went to Azkaban."

Minerva's jaw dropped. That was probably the last thing she would have guessed, just after abandoning the family for Grindelwald. She was by far not the only one taken by surprise by this revelation. Mingled gasps, muttering, and exclamations of surprise filled the room as everyone assembled reacted to this news. Minerva looked over at Rolanda and saw that her best friend's face looked as Minerva's felt: wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

Vincenzo and Bianca seemed to be struggling with the right English words to express themselves. Eventually, Bianca managed, "What?"

Mitchell turned to Isabella's parents and explained, "She visits Rebecca once a week."

This only inspired more whispers and looks of shock. Norman managed to repeat, in a strangled voice, "Once a week?"

"Yes, once a week," Mitchell confirmed, rounding on the Robinsons once more. "Because Isabella is better than all of us, it seems. She goes to share photos and stories of Chris with Rebecca, so she can know her son just a little."

Finally, everyone was silent. Mitchell took a deep breath and added, "And apparently, Isabella has been Rebecca's only visitor. Ever."

Norman and Evelien looked away. Norman stared at the ceiling while his wife suddenly found the floor very interesting. Rolanda stood, "I'm sorry, what? Am I hearing this correctly? Isabella Borzellieri is the only person who has visited my sister in Azkaban?"

Norman and Evelien exchanged a glance. Rolanda's nostrils flared, "How can you come here and play grandma and grandpa to Chris when you don't even visit his mother? Your own daughter?"

"We are busy –" Norman began.

"And Isabella takes care of Chris while I am in class, on top of writing and editing for Challenges in Charming," Mitchell interjected.

Norman's nostrils flared, much like his daughter's just had. He opened his mouth to speak, but a distinct whoosh from the Entrance Hall silenced him. No one spoke as the sound of Isabella's shoes against the marble floor echoed in the large entryway. The sound became muffled as she stepped onto the carpet in the hallway, but with the silence in the drawing room, the sound could still be heard. Isabella opened the door slowly, peeking in. She looked clearly taken aback to find Halina McGonagall staring back at her, and slowly came further into the room. She scanned the silent room, noticing everyone's eyes on her, the tension in the ways Norman and Rolanda were standing, and the shock on her own parents' faces. Her eyes rested finally on Mitchell's guilty face, and Minerva had never seen so many emotions flash so plainly across a person's face in such a short amount of time. Minerva read disappointment, amusement, affection, and resignation on Isabella's face as she stared at Mitchell.

Isabella cleared her throat and turned to Norman and Evelien. "Is there something you wish to say to me?" she asked boldly, expressionlessly.

Norman's face reddened, and he opened and closed his mouth. Evelien did not look at her.

Rolanda, from the other side of the room, spoke instead, "Why?"

Isabella turned to her and eyed the younger witch's sad and earnest expression. Rolanda was not old enough to visit a prisoner of Azkaban. Isabella did not hold her family's actions against her. She explained quietly, "Because I felt Rebecca deserved to know her son."

Bianca shook her head in disbelief, "Tesoro…deserve?"

Isabella made knowing eye contact with Mitchell, who shook his head. She then looked to her mother, smiling understandingly. "I saw something in her the day Mitchell and I picked Chris up at St. Mungo's. I was right." She turned on the Robinsons again, "And since I started visiting her, Rebecca has remembered her worth. She is not happy that you have not visited her."

"I will not be lectured by –" Norman began, his voice raising. Vincenzo stood, opening his mouth, but Norman was cut off by his wife, by a simple, staying hand on his arm. Bianca grabbed Vincenzo's arm and yanked him back down onto the couch beside her. Norman closed his mouth and looked over at Evelien.

Evelien murmured, "She's right." She finally looked up at Isabella, "You're right. We should visit her. We have not. We are too afraid."

Norman clenched his jaw and looked down at his wife's knees. Rolanda sunk back into her chair, her face still frozen in disbelief. Minerva placed a comforting hand over Rolanda's.

No one spoke for several long seconds. Eventually, Bianca said, "We received a letter from Arrigo. Perhaps we should read it together in private."

"You shouldn't have to leave," Gliona scoffed. She had grown fond of the Borzellieri couple over the course of the day, and wanted to share in their joy. "Today was supposed to be about burning these feuds, leaving them behind us. I know it's not realistic to expect you to drop it all so quickly, burning it away to ash as easily as the rowan branch burnt. I know. Our message was for us all to work together through the difficult tension between us and move forward. Can we please do that? I think this young lady has exhibited precisely that spirit, and she should not be punished for it."

"I, for one, am glad she visits," Rolanda said.

No one spoke for a few seconds, until Evelien added quietly, "I am too." She met Isabella's eyes, and they smiled tentatively at each other. Evelien then looked up at her husband.

Norman nodded, bowed his head, and then looked sharply towards Mitchell. Minerva caught a glance of his expression, and the raw emotion on his face took her breath away. The mingled emotions there were too great for Minerva to identify with a single word, but among the words that came to mind were accusation, pain, and, strongest of all, guilt. The emotions there brought tears to Minerva's eyes as she thought of her own relationship with her father, a man she loved and respected dearly. She could not imagine what their relationship would be like if she ended up in Azkaban.

Slowly, Norman closed his eyes and straightened up, nodding again, "Of course…she…Isabella, should not be punished."

Gliona nodded curtly, "Good. Now, with that settled," she turned smartly towards the elder Borzellieris, "what news of your children do you have?"

Bianca and Vincenzo looked down at the scroll in their hands, small, joyful smiles spreading onto their face. Isabella walked over to sit on the arm of their couch. With shaking hands, Bianca broke the seal and unrolled the scroll. Everyone else in the room waited quietly, wondering if the letter would contain happy stories fit for the season, or more news of war in Italy. Each of the members of the Resistance present had listened to letters from Arrigo Borzellieri read out at meetings, and so they could not help but wait with bated breath for bad news.

The smiles, growing more tearful by the second, on Bianca and Vincenzo's faces boded well, though. Bianca covered her mouth as tears began to flow more freely down her cheeks, and blubbered something in Italian. Vincenzo wrapped his arm around her and squeezed her tightly, placing a firm kiss on her temple. Isabella leaned in and read the scroll over her parents' shoulders, beaming. She whispered in Italian to her parents, squeezing their shoulders, and then straightened up to address the room, "My brothers and their wives are all together for the holidays. And," she looked again at her parents, who were practically glowing, and grinned wider herself, "my brother, Giuseppe, and his wife just had a baby girl, born last night."

The room now filled with sounds of delight and congratulations. The group did their best to ride the wave of good news out of the tension that had only just preceded it, but some awkwardness undoubtedly remained. Minerva quickly grew tired of the sudden formality coming from nearly everyone, and asked Rolanda to leave with her. Rolanda was only too happy to join her as they walked out of the drawing room.

They walked in silence until they reached the front door of McGonagall Manor. As soon as they stepped outside, Minerva looked over at Rolanda and asked, "Are you okay?"

Rolanda wrapped her arms around herself and shrugged. Eventually, she replied, "I just can't believe they haven't been visiting her."

Minerva said nothing. She wasn't sure what to say. They tended to avoid talking about what happened between Mitchell and Rebecca.

"I wish I could visit her," Rolanda said quietly. "But I can't until July."

"Will you? As soon as you can?"

"After what I just heard? Of course I fucking am."

"I'm sorry, Ro," Minerva murmured, digging her hands into the pockets of her outer robe.

Rolanda grimaced. They walked in silence a few paces. They had no particular destination in mind, but their feet seemed to be carrying them back to the rowan tree. Minerva couldn't believe they'd all stood before that tree just that morning. Once they reached the tree, Rolanda leaned against it. Minerva planted her feet in front of her friend and scanned her face. Rolanda looked thoughtful. "Knut for your thoughts?" she asked.

Rolanda smiled slightly and sighed, "I suppose it's that same instinct that makes us uncomfortable talking about our siblings – you know – that keeps them away from her."

Minerva nodded, "I just don't know what to say."

"Me neither."

They stood in silence again, looking out over the rolling hills of the Highlands to the east, and the dense forest to the west.

"I wish Richard was here," Rolanda murmured finally. She turned back to face Minerva and grinned, "Not that I don't enjoy your company –"

"I understand," Minerva laughed, kicking the ground.

"I am strangely glad that our families decided to do this, you know," Rolanda added.

Minerva grinned, "Me too. It's almost like we're really sisters."

Rolanda nodded, "Exactly. But still, Richard…he's like family to me. In a very different way, of course. I wish he could celebrate with us."

Minerva's grin faded into a soft smile as she thought about the conversation that she'd had with Sylvia the night before. She walked up to the rowan tree and leaned against it, shoulder to shoulder with Rolanda. The blonde girl looked over at her, but Minerva looked straight ahead. Her stomach felt jittery with excitement. She opened her mouth and said, "I love Oliver."

Rolanda grinned and shouldered Minerva. Minerva laughed and shouldered her back. Laughing too, Rolanda asked, "Have you told him?"

Minerva replied, "I almost did. Right before we left. But it was the first time it even occurred to me, and it paralyzed me. I think he felt it then, too, though."

Rolanda pressed her lips together, smiling still, and eyed Minerva consideringly. Minerva raised her eyebrows questioningly at her friend's expression. Rolanda laughed and said, "Let's go inside. I have something I want to give you."

Minerva pushed herself off the tree and asked, "Can't it wait until tomorrow? It's the day for giving, you know."

"I know," Rolanda replied, grinning. "But I want to give it to you now."

Rolanda led Minerva all the way up to the room she was staying in for the holidays. Minerva waited as Rolanda rummaged around her trunk, and raised her eyebrows as Rolanda finally retrieved a distinctly book-shaped item wrapped in brown paper and tied with a bow. "That certainly looks like something you'd give on Christmas Day," Minerva quipped.

Rolanda held it out, "It is your Christmas present, but I didn't want to give it to you with an audience." Minerva raised her eyebrows, her interest piqued, and took the present. As she tore into the paper, Rolanda said, "Originally, it was supposed to be more of a joke, but no matter when you decide to make use of it, just know that it's dead useful."

Minerva shot her a perplexed look as she pushed the paper off and flipped the book around to read the title properly. Her face flushed as she read the words on the cover: A Witch's Guide to Pleasure. Rolanda laughed at the look on her friend's face. Minerva raised the book and smacked her friend with it. Rolanda shrunk away, still laughing. Minerva couldn't help but release a high-pitched, half-hysterical laugh of her own.

"Like I said!" Rolanda exclaimed as she tried to avoid being hit again, "Like I said, this was mostly a joke! Just because you love the bloke doesn't mean you have to have sex with him. I'm not trying to corrupt you – well, maybe a little," she admitted with a grin in response to Minerva's darkly skeptical look, "But there's other useful information in there. It's not just sex."

Minerva sighed, her face still red, "Alright. Thank you. I think."

Rolanda grinned and placed her hands on her hips. "You're welcome!"

Dinner that evening was late again, and for their Christmas Eve meal they had a huge feast with dishes suggested by everyone present. Rolanda explained to Minerva that her family had a Christmas Eve dinner called "Réveillon" – which, Rolanda told her, just meant "eve" in French – although they typically ate after midnight. The Borzellieris only ate seafood for their Christmas Eve dinner, and were delighted to learn that the Robinsons also included a lot of seafood in their traditions. In addition to the lobsters, oysters, cod, and calamari, there was also a roast goose, foie gras, and venison. Each of the McGonagalls also had a little bit of sowans, made of oat husks and fine meal steeped in water, and Mitchell and Minerva managed to encourage Isabella and Rolanda to try a little as well.

For dessert, the Robinsons contributed a brûche de Noël, a chocolate sponge cake rolled into a log shape, while the Borzellieris provided panettone, a sort of fruit cake. There was also a mince pie and trifle to choose from.

After dinner, the adults retreated to the drawing room one last time for after-dinner drinks. Bianca and Vincenzo, their bellies already full of food and wine, loudly recommended grappa to everyone as a perfect digestive. Mitchell, at Isabella's goading, tried the proffered grappa, and then protested loudly when Isabella chose chamomile tea instead, giggling all the while. Minerva tried to stay awake with the rest of the adults, but with a full belly and more wine in her system than she'd ever drank at once, she started falling asleep in her chair. She was vaguely cognizant of her father helping her to her feet and walking with her up the stairs and to her room, but she felt so secure leaning against him that she hardly regained her focus at all.

Friday, 25 December 1942

The highlands surrounding McGonagall Manor looked very much as they had the day before when Christmas morning dawned. The sky was grey, and there was a tinge of blue to the grass from that greyness and from the frost that covered the ground. There was a biting cold breeze whistling through the trees and rattling against the windows. By the time dawn broke that morning, though, the party inside McGonagall Manor was already nearly done opening presents. Despite the tension from the evening before, it seemed as though every person gathered that morning had awoken hoping to put it all behind them. The excitement of Christmas morning – both of getting new gifts and of finally seeing the reactions to the gifts they'd bought weeks before – put everyone in a positive mood.

Chris, of course, was showered with gifts, with just two marked "From Father Christmas." The rest – toys and books and clothes – were credited to his three sets of grandparents, the two sets of great-grandparents that were present, his parents, and his aunts and uncles. The generation still in school also received many gifts from their parents, siblings, and friends, consisting of a variety of things based on their specific interests. To Minerva's relief, in the chaos of Christmas morning, the fact that she had no gift under either tree from Rolanda went unnoticed. Mitchell, Isabella, and River, while in the same generation as those still at Hogwarts, received more practical gifts, such as tools and décor for their homes, books on how to do things more worried about by adults on their own, and galleons. Jon, Diana, and Mason were happy to have gifts from Diana's parents, who had been living in New York City for the past five years.

All of the couples present gave gifts to those couples that they weren't particularly close to as pairs, and they were mostly bottles of wine. The Robinsons seemed slightly surprised to receive a bottle of red wine from the Borzellieri family vineyard in Tuscany, but they also had thought to get a bottle of a French white for them. Minerva supposed that they'd had to interact enough as part of the Resistance to feel more than a little obligated to get each other gifts.

Throughout the morning, they'd eaten breakfast pastries from a spread the house-elves had set up in the drawing room. As the morning drew on, the larger group divided into smaller ones for conversation, sitting casually around the room. The younger members of the party sat together on the floor, playing with Miranda's new deck of Exploding Snap that Jon and Diana had bought her. She'd been using her dad's old cards, and they thought she'd might like to have her own for when she started Hogwarts next September. It wouldn't do for the old charms on the cards to finally give out just when she was trying to play with new friends. With five players, the game was both exciting and stressful. The anticipation built up so much that when the tower finally exploded on Rolanda, she exclaimed, "Fu – fudge muffins!" She caught herself, noting the looks coming from her parents, brother, and the older people present. Everyone's attention had been drawn by the explosion, and so what Rolanda had been about to say was plain to everyone who knew the word. Raised eyebrows mixed with varying degrees of amusement caused Rolanda to bite her tongue. Minerva couldn't help but laugh at her friend's choice of words, knowing just how coarsely she spoke among friends.

Norman sighed, looking like he was trying not to laugh, and beckoned Rolanda over, "Rolanda, come here."

Rolanda shot Minerva an annoyed look and made her way over to where her parents and River were sitting. Minerva turned back to Michael, Miranda, and Mason to help collect the singed cards to put back in the box for reconstruction. As the last of the cards were put into their box, Rolanda rejoined them with a pinched expression and crossed arms. Minerva opened her mouth to ask Rolanda what her parents said, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw the three other Robinsons walking across the room. Norman murmured something to Charles and Gliona, who smiled and nodded, and the trio left the room. Minerva blinked in confusion and turned again to her friend, rephrasing her question to simply: "What's going on?"

Rolanda smirked a little, and not at all in a pleased way. "They're finally going to do it." Minerva furrowed her brow at her friend. Rolanda looked up at her and elaborated, "They're going to visit Rebecca."

Minerva's eyebrows shot up. She found she could only say, "Oh," in response to that.

Rolanda snorted, "I know."

"Well," Minerva began carefully, "I suppose…better late than never? And on Christmas, too. That'll be nice for Rebecca."

"If she doesn't yell at them," Rolanda muttered. She leaned against Minerva's shoulder and added quietly, "I wish I could go with them."

Minerva wrapped her arm around her best friend's shoulders and gave her a sympathetic squeeze. She said simply, "July."

Rolanda gave her a small smile and sighed, "July."

The next two hours went by peacefully as the McGonagalls, Chases, Borzellieris, and Rolanda sat around, chatted, and played games. As Minerva sat back watching Miranda and Mason play chess, she was just starting acknowledge how wonderful it was to spend so much time with her family, detached from all the anxieties of the real world.

Of course, though, life went on in the real world while it seemed to have paused at McGonagall Manor, and a reminder of that popped into the room on the lips of Tartan the house-elf. Tartan appeared directly in front of Charles and Gliona and announced, "Excuse me, Master, Mistress. Urgent Floo for McGonagalls. Resistance calling urgent gathering."

William, Halina, Jon, Diana, Vincenzo, Bianca, Mitchell, Isabella, and Sylvia immediately were on their feet. Minerva's heart dropped to her stomach. The members of the Resistance present seemed to remember themselves and looked to the Hogwarts students present hesitantly. Minerva got to her feet, followed by Rolanda, Miranda, Michael, and Mason. Isabella picked Chris up off the ground and gave him a soft kiss on the head. Mitchell gave his son a kiss as well, and then put him back down where he'd been playing with his new toys.

"We have to go," William said simply, looking at his children.

"I want to come," Minerva replied firmly, squaring her shoulders.

Halina sighed and shook her head, "Minerva –"

"I'm of age and I want to fight," Minerva maintained.

"That's not enough, Minerva," William countered.

"But –!"

"You will not be coming. You are not trained. Do you hear me?" William said sternly.

Minerva's nostrils flared and she looked away, nodding curtly.

"I love you, Minerva," William said quietly.

Her heart somersaulted as the significance of his change of tone hit her like running into the wrong wall at King's Cross, and she looked again at her father. Her shoulders relaxed just a little. "I love you too."

He gave her a small smile and a nod of acknowledgement, and, after saying his goodbyes to his two younger children, turned and walked out the door. Similar parting words were quickly exchanged by the others who were departing. Once the drawing room door shut behind the last of them, Minerva, with her hands balled into fists, started pacing in front of the fireplace.

"Minerva…," Charles said quietly, standing and walking towards her.

"How dare they speak to me like that?" she snapped

Charles stopped directly in front of her, blocking her path. They stared at each other. Charles said, "If you want to be treated like an adult, you need to act like one." Minerva opened her mouth indignantly, but Charles continued, "You may be of age, but your father is right. You are not trained to be out there."

Minerva took a deep breath and said, "I want to be."

"You don't know –" Charles began warningly.

"Maybe I don't!" she shouted. Charles raised his eyebrows at her volume and tone. "What I do know is that I worry every day about this war. It eats at me. I want to help. I need to help."

Charles closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "I know how you feel."

"Do you? Then why aren't you –"

Charles opened his eyes abruptly, and the absolutely piercing look in them quieted her. When he spoke, it was with deadly softness, "Because someone needed to take care of my grandchildren while my own sons left to fight a war in another country. My children. You don't think that makes me sick with worry? That I'm not afraid for them, or for Mitchell, or now, for you? I have lost so many people that I love in my life, and I can't bear to lose one more. But still, I am helping, by giving your parents the peace of mind to fight a war they are far more capable of fighting than I am. I am helping by not stopping them, even though every nerve in my body wants to beg them to stay."

Minerva stared at her grandfather with an open mouth. They stood, eye to eye, for a few tense moments before Minerva finally closed her mouth and looked away. She murmured, "I'm sorry."

One of Charles's hands came up to grasp her shoulder. She looked back up at him. He gave her a sad smile, and drew her into a hug. She hugged him tightly, and he returned the hug with just as much force. Tears prickled at Minerva's eyes, but she did her best to hold them in. When the hug finally ended, Minerva turned away, walking back towards Rolanda. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fireplace.

Minerva cleared her throat and said, "Rolanda, let's go for a walk."

"Minerva…," Charles said warningly.

"I'm not going anywhere. I wouldn't even know where I was going if I wanted to," Minerva replied with a rueful smile.

Rolanda followed Minerva as she walked out of the drawing room and through the halls. Minerva had no particular destination in mind, but she knew she needed to keep moving. Rolanda walked in silence beside her through several long hallways before saying, "You never told me you felt that way."

Minerva bowed her head and said nothing for a few paces. Eventually, she murmured, "I didn't want to burden you. You're so positive about the future."

"Yeah, but…," Rolanda struggled to find the words. She wasn't exactly sure what she was supposed to say, but she decided she could at least go with what she was feeling, "You should be able to tell me how you're feeling. I want you to be able to."

"I don't want to bring you down."

"But that's what friends are for, isn't it? Facing the hard parts of life with someone?"

Minerva didn't have anything to say to that.

They walked in silence again until Rolanda asked, "Have you at least told Oliver?"

Minerva shook her head, "He knows I worry about the Chamber, but we don't talk about the war very much."

Rolanda shook her head in exasperation. She almost looked amused now. Minerva quirked her lips at her friend's expression. "Who would have thought that of the four of us, the Gryffindor would be the one closing off her emotions from the rest of us?"

Minerva shouldered her playfully. Rolanda laughed. Minerva retorted, "I'm sure I'm not the first Gryffindor to withhold their emotions with self-sacrificing motivations."

Rolanda rolled her eyes, "Well, when you put it that way…" She smirked, "Yeah, sounds like typical Gryffindor foolishness to me."

Minerva shoved her a little harder this time. Rolanda shoved her back. They made their way back around to the Entrance Hall and sat together at the foot of the grand staircase. Rolanda said, "In all seriousness, Minerva, please know that you can talk to me when you're feeling worried about your family. I worry too, you know. Perhaps not as much as you, but…I do."

"I will," Minerva murmured, giving Rolanda a little half-smile.

As they were sitting there together, one of the fireplaces flanking the main entrance roared to life with green flames. The witches sat up straight as they watched a person appear, spinning, in the fire. River Robinson stepped out, soon followed by Norman and Evelien. Rolanda and Minerva stood to greet them. They all looked weary, but with an overhanging sense of contentment. Evelien smiled tiredly at the sight of her youngest child. Minerva looked over at Rolanda. She wondered which direction Rolanda would take her conversation with her family; it was unlikely they knew about what happened with the Resistance.

It seemed Rolanda was too curious about her sister to bring that up yet, because she asked, "How is she?"

The three other Robinsons exchanged those tired looks. Evelien replied, "She…had a lot to say. But she said it, and I think she feels better now."

"She was glad we came to see her," River said. "Finally."

"I'm glad," Rolanda said.

"And, per your request, we let her know you had no idea we weren't visiting, and that you were not happy with us for it," Norman said with a small smile.

Rolanda laughed, but it was a higher pitch than normal. Minerva looked over at her again, and this time, their eyes met. Minerva sensed her friend's nervousness about telling them what had happened.

Evelien, though, was a perceptive mother, and she asked, "Is everything alright?"

Minerva folded her hands behind her back and deferred to Rolanda, who glanced nervously over at her. Rolanda took a deep breath and said, "The Resistance called."

Norman, Evelien, and River's eyes widened and they straightened. "How long ago?" Norman asked sharply.

"Twenty, maybe thirty minutes?" Rolanda estimated.

Norman grimaced. The Robinsons turned to each other questioningly, uncertain if they should go at this point. At that moment, though, Gliona exited the drawing room with a slip of parchment in her hand. "I thought I heard the Robinsons."

"Do you know anything? Do you think we should go?" Norman asked urgently.

"No, don't go. Not yet," Gliona replied. She held up the slip of parchment, "I just received word that there is another attack ongoing in Yorkshire. Aurors and members of the Resistance based in Portsmouth are Apparating there, but they're thinly stretched because they sent aid to France." She smiled grimly, "They're going to need all the help they can get." At that, she looked in Minerva's direction and raised a single, silencing eyebrow. Minerva shut her mouth wisely. All of the qualified help, she meant. Gliona passed the missive to the Robinsons, who all looked at it. While they did, Charles came out of the drawing room.

"I've been here before, I can Apparate," Norman said, handing the parchment back to Gliona.

"Good," Gliona said curtly. "Let's be on our way, then."

Minerva's mouth dropped open. Even the Robinsons looked taken aback. Evelien repeated, "Let's? But Gliona –"

Charles came up beside his wife and took her hand, looking grim. As he did so, Gliona interrupted Evelien. "Like I said, they need all the help they can get. All members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement are on reserve for situations like this."

"But do they train you?" Evelien asked, baffled.

"They do," she replied. "And I have been called. So, I go."

Gliona turned to face her husband and gave him a small, sad smile. Charles took her face in his hands and closed his eyes, "Gli…please…"

She nodded quickly, "I know." She then grasped the back of his hair and pulled him closer to place a firm kiss on his lips. Minerva simply stared with her mouth hanging open, not believing this turn of events. Her heart pounded. She longed to join them, to stand by her grandmother's side in Yorkshire. Yet, looking at her grandfather's face, she knew she couldn't. She couldn't do that to him. He was right. She didn't have the experience, and her inexperience was bound to make her a liability.

As Norman, Evelien, River, and Gliona walked out the front door towards the Apparition point, Minerva fell back onto the steps. She sat slouched over, feeling helpless and defeated. She couldn't bear to look at her grandfather; the last look she'd gotten of him, he'd looked like a lost puppy. Minerva hated this feeling of waiting. She had the urge to be productive, but there was nothing she could do. Anxiety settled in the pit of her stomach as she resigned herself to waiting for her family to – hopefully, mercifully – return.

Rolanda took a seat next to her and rested her chin on her hands. Minerva glanced over at her and saw her friend looked paler and more anxious than she'd ever seen her. Rolanda's eyes shot in her direction, and she gave Minerva a sad half-smile. She straightened and sighed, saying, "I've never really thought about them just going off like that."

Minerva grimaced and reached over to take her friend's hand. They squeezed each other's hand briefly and let go. Minerva said, "I think about it almost every day."

"That's a lot of anxiety to be carrying around with you," Rolanda murmured, staring at her feet.

Minerva wasn't sure what to say to that. It was, but it was her normal. There wasn't much to be done about it, except be out there helping and knowing exactly what was going on. Unfortunately, as her grandfather pointed out, she was woefully unprepared to help.

That gave her an idea. She glanced over to where Charles sat on one of the benches along the wall, near one of the fireplaces. She murmured to Rolanda, "I want to train."

"Train?"

"To…to fight. So I can help."

Rolanda stared at her, wide-eyed. "How are you going to do that?"

Minerva grimaced and turned away, thinking, "I'm not sure yet."

They fell into silence again as they both thought about what Minerva had said. Thinking about how Minerva might train helped the time pass for at least the Gryffindor. They weren't sure how long they sat there waiting, but as soon as the front doors to McGonagall Manor flew open, the three occupants of the Entrance Hall were on their feet. Minerva's heart started fluttering with relief as her eyes landed on her father, leading the way, followed closely by her mother, Uncle Jon, Aunt Diana, her brother, Isabella, Vincenzo, and Bianca. The group barely acknowledged the people rushing towards them, though, as they quickly turned, stepping aside as a tighter group of people came through the door behind them. Minerva felt her heart drop as two wizards carried her grandmother through the door. One was Norman Robinson, and the other was Albus Dumbledore. Minerva was so focused on Gliona that her mind didn't even register the surprising arrival of her professor, nor the Flamels walking behind their group. Evelien and Sylvia walked on either side of the men with their wands waving complicated patterns in Gliona's direction.

Out of the corner of Minerva's eye, she saw sudden downward movement. She turned her head sharply towards it, and her eyes widened to see Charles go faint. Tartan and Rosie immediately appeared and caught him before he fell. Minerva brought her hand to cover her pounding heart as they laid him back down on the bench he'd just vacated.

"We need to get her somewhere comfortable," Norman said decisively.

Minerva, who hadn't even been conscious of drawing her wand earlier, found herself instinctively waving her wand in a pattern she'd studied but had only practiced once before. She held her breath in concentration as she cast her spell, and released it in relief as a serviceable cot appeared in the Entrance Hall. Norman and Dumbledore hoisted Gliona onto it. Sylvia, a certified mediwitch, and Evelien, certified to practice healing magic (though technically, only in France, as it was illegal for Veelas to use wands in Britain), were immediately on either side of the conjured cot. Minerva slowly approached the scene, coming up between her parents and her brother. Halina had her arms wrapped around William, who looked unusually pale as he stared at his mother. Mitchell pulled away from his girlfriend and turned to hug Minerva as she stopped beside him.

"What happened?" Minerva whispered.

"I'm not sure. The attack in Vichy was a diversion. The real target was Yorkshire. We went as soon as we could, but the attackers in Vichy were causing enough havoc to keep us there. She went down to a spell as soon as I had eyes on her, but I didn't see what spell or who did it. Dumbledore said we should move her manually so as to not interfere with the curse or attempts to reverse it," Mitchell replied.

"Dumbledore said?" Minerva asked. She looked around again, her mind catching up and reminding her of what she'd seen. She stared in surprise at her professor, standing a little off to the side with the Flamels and looking deeply concerned. Although she had never met the Flamels, she recognized Nicolas from his Chocolate Frog Card, and made an educated guess on who the elderly woman beside him was.

Shaking her head, Minerva turned her attention back to Gliona and the two women working to heal her. Minerva could not see anything visibly wrong with Gliona, other than her lack of consciousness, but with magic involved, that was perhaps more alarming than if she'd been covered in blood.

Evelien and Sylvia were nodding, now, as they spoke softly over Gliona. Minerva's heart lifted to see them make eye contact and smile slightly, nodding curtly one last time. Sylvia stepped away, lowering her wand, and Evelien returned to work. Everyone looked to Sylvia with bated breath. Sylvia directed her attention to her sister and brother-in-law, and smiled, "She's going to be okay."

There was a collective sigh of relief at that statement. Halina released William and took two big strides over to her sister. Sylvia met her in the middle, and they hugged tightly. Minerva noticed William wobble a little unsteadily on his feet as the support of Halina's body left him so suddenly, but he steadied himself. She saw him blink quickly a few times and release a shaky, uneven breath. She let go of Mitchell to step over and hug her father. The tightness of the hug he gave her in return startled her, but she leaned into it.

Murmurs spread throughout the group, and Minerva turned her attention once again to the bed. Her mouth opened in surprise to see Gliona already sitting up. Evelien and Sylvia were on either side of her, both encouraging her to lay back down.

"Where is Charles?" Gliona asked in a demanding tone. The people blocking her view of Charles's bench stepped aside, gesturing helplessly towards him. Gliona attempted to stand, looking alarmed, "What happened? Is he alright?"

"He's fine," Sylvia assured her, holding her back gently. "You, however, need rest. Please, lay down."

Gliona waved her away, continuing her attempt to stand. She pulled her shoulder free of Sylvia's gentle grip and made it to her feet. She wobbled unsteadily. Evelien gripped her upper arm tightly while Sylvia came around the bed to grasp Gliona's other side. Gliona looked almost disgusted with their attention and attempted to shake them off, "I will sit, but I will sit next to my husband!" She managed to rip her arm away from Evelien and said, "This would be easier on all of us if you would just help me do that."

Sylvia and Evelien exchanged looks of resignation, and assisted Gliona over to Charles's bench. Sylvia gently levitated Charles to move him down the bench, with his legs hanging more off the side than they already had been, so that Gliona had room to sit. They helped her to the place Sylvia had made by his head.

Gliona placed a hand tenderly on his face and smiled. She placed a soft kiss on his forehead and asked, "He fainted when he saw me, didn't he?"

Sylvia and Evelien laughed softly. Sylvia said, "Yes, he did."

Gliona felt around her robe, presumably for her wand. Not finding it, she looked up, a slightly panicked look on her face, "Did anyone pick up my wand?"

William started in surprise next to Minerva, and pulled a wand from a pocket of his robes. He quickly brought it over to his mother, who smiled with relief at him. Taking it in her hand, she waved it gently over Charles. Seconds later, his eyes fluttered open. He blinked a few times up at Gliona's smiling face before reaching up to touch her cheek. "Gliona…?" he asked.

She placed her hand over the hand he had on her cheek and said, "Yes Charles?"

Charles smiled broadly up at her, "You're alright."

"I am."

He sighed happily and said, "That's wonderful." He brought his hand down, and slid both of his hands across his face, "I think I passed out."

She laughed softly, "I think you did too."

"You scared me for a second there."

"And no one ever said you had the heart of a lion," Gliona teased.

"No, that was always you, my love," he replied, removing his hands from his face. He groaned and sat up slowly, turning to face her. He smiled and stroked her cheek again.

"We have an audience, you know," she informed him gently.

He simply smiled wider and said, "I know. I thought I should remind them the importance of having something to fight for." With that, he leaned forward, and kissed her. As Gliona's hands rose to his neck, Minerva looked away, feeling both happy and uncomfortable about what was happening on that bench. She saw William turn away completely, scratching his head and grimacing.

"Alright, you two," Sylvia said, being among the few to not be driven to look away by their display of affection. "Gliona, you need to rest now."

"What's this?" Charles asked. Minerva looked again at her grandparents and saw Charles examining his wife, looking concerned.

Gliona rolled her eyes and waved off their concern, "I'm fine."

Sylvia crossed her arms, "I am the mediwitch here and I beg to differ, madam."

Gliona pursed her lips, "It is Christmas Day and I will spend it with my family, not a prisoner to a bed and a mediwitch."

"Gliona –"

"All I want is to be able to enjoy Christmas lunch outside with everyone here. If you'll permit me that, Madam Chase, I will concede to spend the rest of the day on the couch in the drawing room. Tomorrow I will stay in bed as long as you please."

Sylvia sighed in resignation, exchanging a look with Evelien, who looked amused. Sylvia threw her hands up. "It's alright, don't listen to me, what do I know, it's not as though I've devoted my entire life to healing. Carry on." She walked away, rubbing her forehead with her hand.

Looking exasperated but also slightly amused, Jon conjured a simple walking stick and said to his mother, "At the very least, use this when you walk. And I expect Dad won't be leaving your side anytime soon."

Charles chuckled, "Oh no." He stood, and offered his wife his hand. Gliona took it and used his support as well as the walking stick to stand. Once he was sure she was steady, he turned to everyone standing in the Entrance Hall and said, "I'm sure you're all ready for lunch. And Nicolas, Perenelle, Albus: you're welcome to stay, if you'd like. We have plenty of food."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and turned to the Flamels. Nicolas smiled and said, "Perenelle and I would be happy to stay."

Nicolas looked to Dumbledore, who added, "The Headmaster is not expecting me back until dinner. I suppose I can stay as long as I send him word that I survived."

"Then it's settled," Gliona proclaimed.

Now that the commotion in the Entrance Hall had calmed down, the door to the drawing room opened. James and Amelia Chase walked out first, with Amelia carrying Chris, followed closely by Michael, Miranda, and Mason. The kids rushed out from behind the Chases to their parents to hug them tightly.

"They wouldn't let us out," Miranda complained as she hugged her mother.

Halina looked up at her own parents. James shrugged, "We weren't sure how bad it was out here. We could hear something was wrong."

"Well, I'm fine now. Let's all go outside, shall we? Rosie and Tartan should have the table ready for us," Gliona said briskly.

Exchanging tense smiles, everyone made their way outside. Sure enough, there was a large, round table set up beneath the rowan tree, with many chairs around it. As Minerva wondered if the house-elves had already added chairs for their three newest guests, something occurred to her that nearly stopped her in her tracks. Rolanda, noticing, asked, "What's wrong?"

Minerva whispered her revelation to Rolanda, who looked around, nodding, "Dumbledore's behind us. Let's just slow down and let him catch up. Your parents are less likely to notice that way."

They slowed their pace, walking casually towards the table. Sure enough, Dumbledore and the Flamels did catch up to them. Minerva fell into step beside Dumbledore, who looked around at her with a kind smile and raised eyebrows. "Happy Christmas, Miss McGonagall," he greeted.

"Happy Christmas, Professor Dumbledore," she returned politely. "I – er –" she glanced nervously at the Flamels. "Could I talk to you alone? We can just stay back, I don't mean for us to turn around –"

"Of course we can," he interrupted in a calming tone. They slowed to nearly a stop, leaving Rolanda to now walk uncomfortably beside the Flamels. Minerva noticed Perenelle glance back at them curiously, but she continued walking alongside her husband.

"I just wanted to ask," Minerva began, twisting her hands. Dumbledore watched her anxious hands with concern, knowing Minerva to be an upfront young woman. "You see, if my mother knew that I found Gordon Wright on my Prefect rounds, well…she would not take kindly to that revelation. I haven't told her. She knows about the attack, but," she took a deep breath, "would you mind withholding that information from my family?"

Dumbledore considered her request seriously. Minerva waited with bated breath for his response. Eventually he said, "I won't tell them."

Minerva sighed with relief, "Thank you, sir, thank you."

As they resumed walking at a normal pace, Dumbledore asked, "Are you concerned they won't let you return to Hogwarts?"

"Mum mentioned the idea occurred to her," Minerva replied. "She said that she doesn't want to have to do that to my education, but…she's afraid."

Dumbledore nodded grimly, "We have received many letters from concerned parents along a similar vein. Perhaps after what has happened today, they will cease for a while."

Minerva's breath caught in her throat. She collected herself quickly and asked, "Do you mean the attack in Yorkshire?"

Dumbledore glanced over at her, as though remembering exactly who he was speaking to, "Ah, it is not appropriate for me to say. I am sorry for dangling that information in front of you."

"If something happened, I'm sure I will learn soon enough," Minerva retorted boldly.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. He did not speak immediately. Instead, he walked beside her with his hands behind his back. After a few paces, he said, "There were fatalities. The Aurors are making sense of it all as we speak. They sent us away, insisting that it was not our place to even be there. I am sure there will be a list of the dead in the Evening Prophet, if there were any wizards or witches among them."

Minerva blanched at that. They were now only a few paces away from the table, and so they ceased their conversation. Minerva watched as Nicolas greeted River warmly. Rolanda, sitting in the seat next to her brother, was rolling her eyes in Minerva's direction. Minerva laughed softly. Dumbledore followed her gaze and smiled as he assessed the situation and correctly deduced what was passing between the young witches. Minerva took the seat beside Rolanda, and was surprised when Dumbledore sat down on her other side. Nicolas and Perenelle chose the final two seats remaining at the table, between Dumbledore and Diana. Perenelle smiled at Diana as she sat beside her.

Tartan and Rosie brought lunch to them. They brought spiced roast duck, smoked salmon coronets, prawns, roast vegetables, carrots and peas, stuffing, sausages, cranberry sauce, bread sauce, black buns, bannock cakes, and seafood bisque. It was served buffet style in the center of the table, which was large enough to comfortably seat twenty-five people, Chris included. Wizards and witches were summoning the dishes they wished to eat to them, and banishing them back to the center once they were through. Chris, Michael, Mason, and Miranda had help from the adults around them, but Minerva let Rolanda know that Gliona, who was now the Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office, had always turned a blind eye to her grandchildren practicing underage magic outside of school. Rolanda was more than capable of using Summoning and Banishing Charms, and she happily used them to serve herself.

As everyone dug into their meal, the tension from earlier in the day fell away. Conversation ebbed and flowed, punctuated by intermittent laughter around the table. Minerva was pleased to see the Borzellieris talking to both Isabella and Mitchell on one side, and Charles and Gliona on their other side. The Robinsons kept mostly to themselves, although they would occasionally talk to Mitchell over Chris. Minerva and Rolanda talked primarily to each other, although Rolanda did enjoy some jokes with her brother. Mason, Michael, and Miranda kept together for the most part as well, but Minerva caught Miranda laughing with William at one point during the meal. William, though, spent most of the meal in conversation with his wife and the rest of the Chases. Jon and Diana, who were seated next to Mason, spent a surprising amount of time talking to the Flamels and Dumbledore – surprising, at least, from Minerva's perspective, who knew nothing of the dynamics within the Resistance.

At one point, though, Dumbledore leaned forward, looking around Minerva and Rolanda, and said, "River?" River turned away from his food to look at Dumbledore, surprised. Dumbledore continued, "Have you had the opportunity to tell Miss McGonagall about your research? I think she'd find it fascinating."

Minerva blinked in surprise, looking between Dumbledore, River, and Rolanda. Rolanda looked just as surprised as Minerva felt. River raised his eyebrows and made eye contact with Minerva, saying, "No, I haven't. I didn't realize Minerva was interested in Alchemy."

"Well, as far as I know, she's not, but I believe your particular focus on the benefits on the genetic level of using a basic form of the Elixir of Life in Healing might interest her," Dumbledore clarified.

Minerva raised her eyebrows and turned to River, "What, altering genes?"

River's face lit up, "Yes! Research shows some diseases are caused on the genetic level, and I'm looking into using a more easily produced version of the Elixir – without the need to create a true Stone – to cure them. I would also like to study the effects of using the Elixir. I think it may be possible to strengthen our immune systems on the genetic level, helping to make us resistant to certain ailments."

"That sounds really interesting! Are you basing that off of genetic or alchemical research?" Minerva asked enthusiastically. Rolanda sat back in her chair to feel less in the way of their conversation, giving her friend a vaguely disgusted look.

"Both, really. What is your interest in genetics?" River asked.

"Well, I'm interested in using Transfiguration to alter genes. I had vague ideas of using that from a health standpoint as well, but the idea came to me when we were learning about color- and shape-changing charms. So, my original idea was focused more on altering physical characteristics," Minerva replied.

"But that's a really intriguing theory, too. I wonder if you could just Transfigure away certain predispositions to health problems, and if that would be more or less difficult than what I am trying to do."

Minerva sat back in her chair, considering the question. "Well, certainly having a Potion is an easier delivery method. The Transfiguration would have to be extremely precise."

"Perhaps, but if you could find a way to have the body accept changes made in a small number of cells and replicate it for you, it might not be as daunting a task as you think."

"But how would I do such a thing?" Minerva asked.

"Do you have Eugene Mendel's book on magical genetics?"

"I picked it up at the library back in October, but…," she glanced over at Dumbledore, who was watching this exchange with interest, "I got distracted and never read it." She nearly mentioned the attacks, but remembered herself and chose a vaguer statement.

"You should read it," River encouraged. "It has a lot of useful information in it about how genes react to magic, and studies that have already been done on magic and genes."

"I wish I'd brought it with me, but it's in my dormitory at Hogwarts."

"Well then I can lend you my copy!" River offered.

Minerva's eyes lit up, "Would you?"

"Of course! I've moved on to books that are more specific to my research, so I rarely need it anymore, but it was so valuable in helping me formulate my hypothesis," River replied.

"Thank you! I promise to return it before I go back to Hogwarts," Minerva assured him.

Sensing a lull in the conversation between her brother and her best friend, Rolanda said abruptly, "Hey Minerva, did you bring your broom with you? I'm itching to go flying and this area seems perfect for it."

Minerva blinked in surprise at Rolanda, as if remembering she was there, and then replied, "I did. I'd love to go flying with you later."

Rolanda grinned, "Perfect. I have some ideas in mind for what we could do to practice. I think you'll really enjoy it."

Minerva raised her eyebrows, a slow grin appearing on her face, "Oh? Like what?"

She leaned in and whispered, "It has something to do with your idea earlier about a different kind of training."

Minerva leaned back in her chair, eyeing her friend with intrigued consideration. "I'm looking forward to trying whatever you have in mind."

As lunch wound down and people nibbled on their desserts, everyone stayed at the table enjoying the crisp cool air and each other's company. Michael, Mason, and Miranda had produced a Gobstones set and were playing together at the table. She glanced over at Rolanda and smiled bracingly. Rolanda rolled her eyes and groaned, "What is it?"

"I'm itching to play chess. Would you play with me?" Minerva asked, turning her hesitant smile into a pout.

Rolanda laughed and shook her head, "Oh Minerva, how can I say no to you?" Minerva clapped her hands together happily, and called for Rosie to bring her personal chess set to the table.

While Rosie stood there, River interjected, "Rolanda, you can use my pieces if you'd like. They'll probably be more willing to help you than Minerva's spares."

Rosie looked to Minerva for confirmation, and Minerva instructed her to fetch River's pieces as well. Soon, Minerva and Rolanda were facing off against each other over Minerva's chessboard. Minerva was grateful that Rolanda was humoring her, as Rolanda had little interest in the game and was likely to lose simply out of a lack of experience. Rolanda knew the moves well enough, though, and put up a decent fight as Minerva methodically tore through her defenses towards her king.

When Minerva inevitably took Rolanda's king, she threw her hands up and said, "That's enough masochism for one day, I'm finished."

Minerva attempted to pout with disappointment, but she couldn't manage it through her laughter.

"I would be happy to play against you, Miss McGonagall, if you would be willing," Dumbledore offered on her other side. She turned to him, surprised and delighted. He smiled, "I'm sure you'd like a rematch after our last game."

Minerva grinned, "I suppose I'm due a rematch, aren't I?"

Smiling, Dumbledore averted his gaze towards the sky and called, "Fawkes?"

In a flash of flame, a large red and gold phoenix appeared in the air between them, its wings spread wide. Minerva couldn't help but gasp at his sudden appearance; this was the closest she'd ever been to her professor's phoenix. The sight of the bird was breathtaking. Judging by the gasps and murmurs around the table, she wasn't the only one who thought so.

Fawkes flapped his wings a few times as he settled onto the back of Minerva's chair to look at the man who'd called him. Dumbledore reached out and stroked Fawkes' feathers affectionately, and said, "My friend, would you mind terribly fetching my chess pieces from my office?"

Fawkes trilled musically and disappeared in a similar flash. Seconds later, he reappeared, dropping a brown box above Dumbledore, who reached out and caught it. "Thank you, Fawkes. I'm sorry for asking such a trivial thing of you, but I appreciate your help." Fawkes trilled again, and then took flight over the table and into the forest beyond them. The guests at the table watched him glide away for a bit, but Dumbledore, having seen it a hundred times before, focused on releasing his chess pieces to find their proper places on Minerva's chessboard.

As their chess pieces prepared for a rematch, Minerva commented, "I've never seen him that close before. He's magnificent."

Dumbledore smiled, "Yes, I'm a lucky wizard."

Minerva was reminded of Poppy's theory about Fawkes being a familiar, but found she did not have the courage to ask such a personal question of her professor.

Their pieces settled, and Minerva looked up at him with a rueful smile, "Are you ready, sir?"

He chuckled, "Of course I am. I am the reigning champion. The question is, Miss McGonagall: are you ready?"

Minerva grinned and took the first move in answer. Fawkes's arrival had the side effect of drawing the attention of everyone at the table to the reason he had appeared. Minerva was very aware of the fact that people were glancing over curiously at Minerva playing chess with her professor, but she tried not to let it bother her. People watched her play Quidditch all the time. This should be no different.

"So, do you still plan on going to Hogwarts for Christmas dinner?" she asked conversationally.

After taking his turn, Dumbledore looked up at her and replied, "Yes, I do. It's somewhat expected of me, as Deputy Headmaster and Gryffindor Head of House."

Minerva nodded as she surveyed the board. Again, she found herself inordinately curious about Fawkes's true role in his life, but was unsure of how to ask that appropriately. She took a deep breath and forced herself to focus on the game for a moment, planning her strategy several moves in advance. Eventually, she nodded and directed one of her pawns. "You say that as if you'd rather not go."

"Oh, no," Dumbledore replied quickly. "I enjoy being at Hogwarts during Christmastime, make no mistake."

"There's no place you'd rather be?" Minerva asked. She opened her mouth to add, With family? The words died nervously on her lips, though, as Dumbledore looked up at her again with a considering look. She quickly added, instead, "I'm sorry if I'm being impertinent –"

"You aren't," he assured her. He smiled understandingly, "I'm sure being surrounded by so many members of your family has you in that mindset."

Minerva nodded, her cheeks coloring slightly.

Dumbledore did not say anything more, despite his assurance, and turned back to the board. Once he announced his move, though, he said, "I have a brother, but that's all. We have dinner together on Christmas Eve."

She felt a rush of pleasure that he'd shared that with her. It made her feel as though me might be beginning to see her as a colleague, or even a friend, more than just a student. She couldn't think of anything more wonderful than Albus Dumbledore seeing her as his peer. The information that he had given her, though, was telling. But that's all. Minerva decided this must mean that Fawkes was not a familiar; at least, she hoped he wasn't, for the sake of her professor's happiness.

"I didn't know you had a brother. Does he research in a different field?" Minerva asked after making her move.

Dumbledore chuckled, "Ah, in a way. Nothing published, though." Minerva eyed him curiously as his blue eyes twinkled in amusement. Once he took his turn, he looked up at her with a small smile twisting beneath his mustache, "We couldn't be more different, I'd say."

"Oh," Minerva replied. "Well, I'm sure that keeps things interesting."

"You could say that," Dumbledore allowed, looking back down at the board and surveying it, attempting to discern Minerva's plan. As Minerva directed a knight, he revealed, "My brother is the owner of the Hog's Head, in Hogsmeade."

Minerva's eyebrows shot up, "I've never been." She hadn't heard many positive things about the establishment; the general perception was that it was a shady place.

"That was the intention, actually," Dumbledore explained. "He hoped to establish himself as a place the locals could go that the Hogwarts students would not."

"Ah," Minerva remarked. "How is that going?"

Dumbledore's smile faded as he looked back down at the board. He took time to take his turn, delaying his response, before replying carefully, "Business could be better."

"And I suppose, judging from his original intention, he would not take kindly to a group of Hogwarts students trying to increase his profits?" Minerva asked with a smile. Before giving him the opportunity to respond, she announced her next move.

"I'm not – oh," he said, scanning the board. Minerva grinned, watching realization dawn on his face. Dumbledore's brow furrowed as he searched for a way out of the trap she'd set for him. Minerva sat back proudly as she waited for him to make a move. "Well, Miss McGonagall, I must confess you had me completely distracted."

"I didn't know you were one to make excuses, professor," Minerva replied boldly. Dumbledore looked up at her with twinkling eyes. She was pleased to note how delighted he seemed to have her challenge him.

"I'm not," he replied. He scanned the board one final time before reaching forward to tip his king, "You have bested me. I concede."

Minerva did her best to smother her grin as she held out her hand with mock-formality for him to shake. He smiled and took her proffered hand.

"Did I hear that right?" Nicolas Flamel asked from Dumbledore's other side. Dumbledore and Minerva looked over at him. Minerva's heart leapt excitedly at being addressed by Flamel. "Was one of my lead strategists just beat at chess by a student?"

"I was," Dumbledore admitted, smiling.

"You're William and Halina's daughter, aren't you, my dear?" Flamel asked.

"Yes, sir," Minerva replied, her heart racing.

"Well, with parents like that, I suppose I can forgive you this time, Albus."

Minerva felt her face turning red. She felt that she was grinning far too broadly, but she seemed to have lost control of the muscles in her face. Control yourself, you foolish girl, she thought to herself, trying to rein in her pride.

"I heard you talking about Transfiguration earlier," Flamel continued, looking at Minerva. "Do you have plans on seriously pursuing research in the field?"

"Yes, sir, I do. I would love to at least discover if I can alter physical coloring using Transfiguration on genes," Minerva replied.

Flamel raised his eyebrows and glanced over at Dumbledore before turning his attention back to Minerva. "What year are you in?"

"My sixth year."

"Ah," he replied simply, leaning back and tenting his fingers. Minerva resisted the urge to squirm under his considering gaze. She glanced at Dumbledore and was surprised to notice that he was looking steadily at his plate of crumbs from his slice of Christmas cake. She sensed he was feeling similarly uncomfortable by this line of questioning. Glancing back at Flamel, she noticed that he was eyeing Dumbledore now. Quietly, almost too quiet for Minerva to hear, he finally said, "I think I am beginning to understand why you've put off taking my advice."

Minerva blinked and looked to her professor, who looked Flamel in the eye and said, "But just only beginning, I assure you."

Flamel hummed thoughtfully and turned back to his dessert, not pressing the matter further. Minerva was left feeling slightly baffled and very curious as to what that exchange meant. She couldn't help but feel as though it had something to do with her.

Later that day, once her stomach had settled and everyone had finally moved back indoors, Minerva and Rolanda went back out with their broomsticks. Now that they had no audience, Minerva asked, "So what is this idea that you have?"

Rolanda grinned and looked around surreptitiously before replying, "I want you to shoot spells at me while I fly."

Minerva's eyebrows shot up, "You want me to what?"

Rolanda laughed, "You heard me. I'll get my agility practice in, and you'll get target practice. It's a win-win."

"I could hurt you!"

"Then just use jets of light, nothing real," Rolanda suggested, shrugging. "It's all the same to me."

Minerva pursed her lips thoughtfully, twisting the handle of her broomstick in her hands. Finally, she said, "Alright. Let's do it."

Rolanda grinned, "Excellent!" Within seconds, she was rising into the air. "Catch me if you can!"

Minerva laughed and mounted her broom swiftly. Rolanda was already barreling off. Minerva pressed herself against her broom to keep up. Holding her wand while flying was definitely a different experience from what she was used to, and it took her a few minutes to get her bearings before she felt comfortable raising her wand and aiming. This was more challenging than she'd thought it would be. Eventually, though, she started shooting off colored jets of light. Her first couple were completely off the mark, as she was still adjusting to aiming while flying. Eventually, though, she got better at aiming in Rolanda's general vicinity. Rolanda goaded her as she got closer but not nearly close enough. Minerva doubted she'd be able to hit Rolanda with even one this afternoon, unless Rolanda accidentally flew right into one. She wasn't facing Minerva's wand, after all. She imagined that Rolanda was using the sound of the spells slicing through the air to make sure she stayed out of the way, which, as a Seeker, Minerva understood was an important sense to rely on in Quidditch. Her sense of hearing helped her discern where Bludgers were, and she imagined Rolanda had to do the same. On top of that, Minerva was sure that at close proximity a Quaffle could make a sound flying through the air that was important to be able to hear as a Keeper.

They went on like this for thirty minutes before Minerva called for Rolanda to stop. She was breathing heavily, exhausted by the exertion. Rolanda turned around and flew back to Minerva. Both witches were grinning and pink in the face. Flyaway hairs stuck up all around their faces, and a thin sheen of sweat coated their skin. "That was great!" Minerva exclaimed as they descended.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it!" Rolanda panted. "You definitely got much better towards the end."

"Thank you. It was a lot harder than I thought," Minerva replied. "Let's go inside."

"I'm thirsty. Could you…?"

Minerva grinned, "Of course." She conjured two cups and a quick Aguamenti later, they both were drinking water as they walked back inside.

As soon as they stepped inside, loud music filled their ears. Rolanda grimaced, "What is that?"

Minerva laughed, "Bagpipes. Did you think you could spend Christmas with my family and not hear bagpipes?"

Rolanda groaned, "Let's go back outside."

"No! I like it, come on," Minerva teased, pulling Rolanda's arm towards the drawing room, where the music was coming from.

Rolanda stomped her feet dramatically as Minerva led her closer to the bagpipes. When they stepped inside, they found William McGonagall standing before all the assembled guests, playing the bagpipes. Halina sat closest to him, smiling lovingly up at him. William alternated between focusing on what he was doing and looking at her. Minerva glanced around the room and saw pinched expressions on the Borzellieris' faces, but everyone else seemed to be enjoying it.

Minerva leaned closer to Rolanda and said, "The story goes that my dad finally decided to learn the bagpipes after he started dating my mum. She's always loved music, and joked that since she was dating a Scot, she should have the opportunity to enjoy the bagpipes more. The thing was, no living McGonagalls played the bagpipes. So, the summer between their sixth and seventh year, my dad learned and practiced at the bagpipes every day to become good enough to play for her."

"Aw," Rolanda murmured.

Minerva grinned, "He kept it up for a few years, but now he only plays around holidays and special events. If your family is staying for New Years, prepare yourself to listen to Auld Lange Syne on the bagpipes."

Rolanda sighed heavily and shook her head, but she was smiling now after hearing that story. As William finished his song, the assembled guests applauded, some with enthusiasm, others politely.

Once the applause died down, Halina turned to Minerva and smiled, "There she is."

Minerva's eyebrows shot up as all eyes turned on her. "Yes…?"

Halina laughed, "We were just telling our guests about your dancing lessons."

Minerva sighed in resignation and looked towards her father, who gave her a sympathetic smile and chuckled, "You didn't think you'd be getting out of it now that we have people around who've never had the pleasure of seeing the fruit of your labors?"

Minerva smiled ruefully at her father, "I thought perhaps you would not subject them to my deteriorating skill."

"Nonsense," Gliona interjected. "You said the same last year, and I thought you danced beautifully."

"I think you're biased, Gran," Minerva returned with a polite smile.

Gliona harrumphed and crossed her arms.

"Well, of course, I'll do it. Just let me step away to refamiliarize myself with the steps for a moment," Minerva said, turning to leave again. Rolanda gave her a gleeful grin as she passed her. Minerva rolled her eyes at her friend.

Just outside the door of the drawing room, Minerva shortened the skirt of her robes to give her more range of movement, and Transfigured her shoes into a more appropriate pair for the activity. She then conjured a pair of dull swords and crossed them on the ground. She placed her hands on her hips and started practicing, slowly refamiliarizing herself with the steps. It didn't take her long to move more surely and smoothly. It had, after all, been something she had practiced every day at one point in her life, and still did a couple of times a year.

Picking up her conjured swords, Minerva took a deep breath and prepared herself to reenter the drawing room. She was not nervous to dance for her family. She did it every year. She was nervous to dance in front of the Flamels and Dumbledore, who she had forgotten had stayed to spend some time with their friends from the Resistance. It will be fine, she assured herself, this isn't something academic. It isn't something they can do. With that, she took one final deep breath, and stepped into the drawing room.

Someone had moved aside some of the furniture to give her more room. Her father was standing off to the side, next to where her mother sat, bagpipes ready. She bent down gracefully to place the swords in a cross, and as she straightened, she made eye contact with William. He smiled at her reassuringly, and she nodded back at him. She waited in first position as William found his note. Once he started to play, she bowed with her hands on her hips, folding into a ninety-degree angle. She then straightened again, paused for a beat, and began to dance. She knew that her kicks were not as high as they should be, but she only stretched for Quidditch now, not for high kicks. She felt confident that her steps were going well, but she was only dancing around the swords right now. She knew that her skill at the steps would be another matter once she started dancing within the quarters of the swords. As she stepped into them, her face furrowed into deeper concentration. She did well for a few steps, but soon enough, as expected, one of her feet grazed one of the swords. She grimaced in disappointment but carried on without missing a beat. Right before she knew the song was about to quicken, she made eye contact with her father, who raised his eyebrows at her as he played. She gave him a tight smile, and he started playing quicktime. Her feet moved delicately to match his music. Although one of her feet grazed a sword again, she was proud to be keeping up with him, and to have only made that one mistake. She allowed herself a grin, remembering how much she'd once loved to dance this way. She'd only stopped because of the time commitment.

The song slowed again, and so did Minerva's dancing for a few steps, and then she posed as William held his final note. As she held her final position, everyone in the room applauded. She was proud to note that everyone seemed enthusiastic in their applause. She lowered her arms, chest heaving, and grinned. Her dad set down his bagpipes and walked over to hug her. Hearing the snap of a camera, Minerva and William turned to find Michael and smiled at him while hugging. After the click of his camera, William placed a kiss on the top of his daughter's head.

As Minerva looked around the room at everyone present, applauding her and her father and remarking on their performance with smiles on their faces, her heart filled with happiness. It had been a great Christmas.

Yes, this one was a long one. I almost cut some of Christmas into the next chapter, but that one got long as well and I decided I'd rather have all of Christmas in one chapter. I hope you enjoyed!

Thank you to those of you who have followed, liked, and reviewed so far. It really means the world to me!