Chapter Twelve: Christmas

On Christmas, Ron opened the cottage's door to a wall of snow.

"It's so bright," said Ginny, shading her eyes.

Ginny and Slave helped Ron dig a path to the banks, then used brooms to sweep snow off the marsh so they could skate. As they did so they threw snowballs at each other.

Bubbles suspended in the ice made it cloudy, though clear enough for strands of grass and other trapped things to be visible. Yellow eyes lay beneath Ginny's feet when she swept away snow.

"Argh!" screamed Ginny.

"What?" asked Ron.

"Eyes! There's a massive snake underneath the ice."

Slave and Ron came over. "Wow. It's huge," said Ron.

Ginny knelt and scraped away more snow. "Look," she said. "It must stretch all around the marsh."

"It can't," said Ron.

"It must."

"Well, there's only one way to find out," Ginny picked up the broom.

By the end of the afternoon they discovered there was indeed only one snake.

"It must be a mile long," said Ginny, when they got back to where they started. The snake snapped some eels and minnows into its mouth.

Ron and Ginny circled around the marsh python, listening to ice crackle beneath them, and distant, mournful howls. Gone were rustlings of marsh voles and splishings of fish. There was not even a single shriek while nixies hibernated, their suckers frozen to the ice's underside.

Ginny and Ron spent hours outside while Slave stayed indoors.

"I think Slave's heart might have frozen when we found him in the ice," said Ginny. "Since he barely talks or does anything fun."

Ron and Ginny threw down their skates in front of him and held up what looked like a dead bird.

"Look what we found," said Ginny.

Slave pulled a face. "Leave it outside," he said "Unless you're going to eat it."

"It's not dead," said Ginny. "Look." She raised the brown streak of feathers for him to inspect. Slave poked it.

"We found it outside that old shack," said Ginny.

"It's a frozen owl, I think," said Ron, as it ruffled back into shape. "Is that… Is that a letter in its beak?"

"Oh yeah!" Ginny snatched it, opened it and read: "Dear Minerva, I am at Hogwarts. Meet me in the courtyard as soon as possible. There has been a development. I will be there at midnight every night until your arrival. Arthur Weasley."

"But what about Percy?" she asked.

"Doesn't sound much like Dad," grunted Ron.

"It was too brief to be sure," agreed Minerva, slamming her book shut on the desk. "Does anyone have the time?"

"There are no clocks here," said Ron. "Timepieces never work at Shell Cottage; too much disturbance under the ground."

"Hmm. I will have to leave soon to look for your father. Be careful when I go. Tonight, however hard you look, you will not see the moon. It is not a night to venture out on the marsh. If all the marsh creatures and spirits weren't frozen below, I'd have us locked into the cottage right now."

"Okay," said Ron and Ginny.

"Be alert," she warned them. "As the dark moon rises it draws things up from the ground. And the cottage draws people who wish for safety."

When the moon disappeared, Minerva left.

"She's gone?" asked Ginny.

Ron made a face and waved a pair of skates at her. "Race you to big bog; last one there's a dead rat!"

Ginny and Ron laughed at Minerva's believing they would stay indoors when the marsh was frozen. Ginny launched forward across the ice by swinging back her ams, as Ron twirled like a ballerina. The lantern was set on the banks, faintly illuminating things.

"Why is Slave too boring to come out and skate with us?" asked Ginny.

"Who cares, he's kind of annoying," said Ron.

Being able to walk on the marsh was so interesting, Ron and Ginny wandered apart, exploring. Ginny went to stare at the mysterious eyes of the frozen snake again.

"Haha," she scraped her blades back and forth over it. "Looks like you're staring into my soul."

Crack! The ice above the marsh python's head sprayed into the air and it reared up.

Ginny crawled behind the chicken's raft, lying abandoned near the bank. The snake cast a glance in her direction before slithering away into the marsh. A nearby lynx slunk into its hole to chew a frozen mouse for the last time: the marsh python was on the loose.

"Uh oh," Ginny glanced around for Ron. But instead of Ron, the shape of a boat appeared in the distance.

"Finally!" said Ginny. "I wonder if it's Dad. Maybe Percy's with them? Or Mum? Maybe it's everyone!"

"Evenin, miss."

"Hello, Boggart. There's someone coming through the marshes. More than one perhaps. Can you nip off and find out who it is?"

"No trouble. Could do with a swim. Won't be long," said the boggart, waddling off and disappearing into the water with a splash.

"Ron?" called Ginny.

Ron came out of some cattails. "Who were you talking to?"

"The boggart is going to see who some people heading here on a boat are." Ginny wrung her hands to shake off cold. "But I'm going back inside to wait, it's too dark. Professor McGonagall was right; the creatures are coming up. The marsh python broke through the ice, so you know."

Ron and Ginny sat by the fireplace next to Slave.

"It's strange to be here without any adults," said Ginny. "What if the people in the boat are Death Eaters?"

"Dunno," said Ron. "How far away were they? Boggart's taking his time."

There was a rustling on the doorstep.

"That'll be him!" Ginny leapt up to open the door. Then she screamed.

"Boggart! Oh, Boggart!"

The boggart lay bleeding on the doorstep.

Ginny knelt down, while Ron and Slave came up. "Boggart, boggart, friend. What happened?"

The boggart's eyes were closed, his fur matted by the blood. He slumped down onto the ground.

"Oh, Boggart ... open your eyes..." But there was no response.

"Help me lift him, someone. Quick."

Ron jumped forward and helped lift the boggart, but he was a slippery, heavy creature, and more help was needed to get him inside.

"What?" asked Slave, standing with his arms folded.

"Help us!"

They carried the boggart into the kitchen, leaving a trail of blood across the floor and laid him down.

Slave and Ginny got tears in their eyes.

"I'll get bandages for his chest," said Ron. "Maybe someone should talk to him, so he hangs on."

Slave held the boggart's damp paw and whispered: "Boggart, Boggart. Can you hear me, Boggart? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me. That's it, Boggart. You'll be alright."

Ginny set a bowl of hot water on the table. "Slave might have a heart after all," she whispered to Ron, who applied bandages over the boggart's cut.

Slave let go of the Boggart's floppy paw, then followed Ron and Ginny out of the kitchen. He had blood all over his shirt.

"What d'you reckon happened to Boggart?" asked Ron.

Ginny peered through the front window. "I don't know; but there are no visitors."