The Twelve Days of Christmas
Happy December 17th to you all... Only seven more days and seven more chapters. Anyone excited? I am. Once again, it's rather short, but if I end up having to write a whole bunch in the last few chapters, it'll make up for whatever I'm missing here, don't worry.
Aimée
Chapter Five: Prongs
"Can you BELIEVE this?" Lavender Brown screamed out four days later, on December 17th. A notice had just been posted by Professor McGonagall, stating King's Cross Station in London had been snowed in – there were no trains coming or leaving, and furthermore the station wasn't even open. Those students planning to go home for the holidays would be able to go home…
After Christmas.
Neither Harry, Ron, nor Hermione minded; they had been planning to stay at Hogwarts anyway, Ron and Hermione mostly to simply keep Harry company. Seamus shrugged it off, saying it was more time to spend with Pansy – he had boasted about the entire event (which had now turned plural, according to him) to his dorm, talking in great detail and waving his hands wildly. Neville looked on, completely scandalized and entranced at the same time. He had never even kissed a girl; how was he supposed to make his individual happy?
The evening, Harry and Ron climbed the steps leading up to the Seventh Year dormitories wearily, until Ron opened the door and ran smack into Dean –
Holding two packages addressed to Harry and Ron in his hands.
Dean thrust the two gifts into their hands, and then spun back on his heel and pranced over to his own bed, which now held an expensive-looking watch made of, as far as Harry could tell, solid gold.
Harry walked over to his own bed, setting the small cerulean box carefully on his bedspread. He stared at it for a moment, finally opening it carefully with his calloused hands from years of flying and playing Seeker on the Gryffindor House Team.
One layer of paper… two… finally, a box opening up to reveal a tiny stag standing proud, raising it's sleek head to look up into the eyes of it's new owner. Harry stared, wide-eyed, at the tiny creature, finally raising his hand to the box so it could walk out onto his palm and take a look at it's new home.
The stag was a proud figure – Harry soon found out it was made of silver underneath the lifelike fur and antlers – with his deep black eyes that seemed to hold years of knowledge and wisdom, despite the fact the creature was hand-made less than a month before.
Next to him, Ron let out a yelp of delight; he had received a Chudley Cannons Keeper robe, bearing his name on the back. Seamus had received a large book of highly dangerous spells, all relating to pranks in some form or another. Neville had also received a book, but it was about the Founders of Hogwarts – one he had, coincidentally, been looking for.
Harry simply stared at the stag for a good ten minutes, before Ron snapped him out of his trance, telling him it was time to get some sleep; none of them had been sleeping very well for the past few nights, with the excitement of Christmas lingering over Hogwarts like a stubborn storm cloud that just wouldn't go away.
The next morning, Harry pocketed his stag – whom he now called Prongs, after his father's Animagus form – and once again, walked down to breakfast in the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione. As he walked in the door, he felt a pair of eyes on him, bearing into his skull. When he looked around for the culprit, however, no one met his gaze.
Once they reached their seats at the Gryffindor Table, he let Prongs loose on his plate, careful not to set any food around him. Prongs looked around bemused, finally settling down right in the middle of Harry's plate so he wasn't able to put large quantities of food on it, in fear of upsetting the stag.
"You really like that thing, don't you?" Ron observed with a mouthful of toast. "I wonder who had the sense enough to give that to you."
"Someone who obviously knew about Harry's father." Hermione answered, grabbing herself a bit of sausage. "Or someone who saw Harry's Patronus."
"The last Patronus I let out where other people could see it was in the Third Year," Harry said quietly, "Unless you guys could see me in the maze during the Tri-Wizard Tournament."
Ron shook his head, "No, I don't think we could – too dark."
"So the only other option would be…?" Harry asked, carefully planting a piece of fried tomato next to the now sleeping stag.
Both Ron and Hermione shrugged, "Not a clue."
"I got another letter as well," Harry admitted, digging into his robes for the piece of parchment. He had shown both Ron and Hermione the previous letter, as he didn't quite understand the meaning behind it. Hermione had smiled knowingly and explained to him all about the seven different archangels in the Christian belief, only two of which Harry remembered – Michael, whose significance the letter had already explained to him, and Azrael, one of the names Raphael had gone by.
Dear Harry (or shall I call you Michael from now on, seeing as how it's so fitting?),
I know many things about you, as does most of the school, but I wanted to get you something personal. I did a bit of research, asked a certain DADA Professor of ours, and came up with this; a stag, after Prongs. You can thank Professor Lupin for the idea, it was just the sort of thing I was looking for.
I'm watching you.
Azrael
"'I'm watching you'?" Ron raised an eyebrow, "That seems a bit sinister, doesn't it?"
Hermione shrugged, "Who isn't watching Harry? What about his life isn't public knowledge?"
Harry breathed in deeply, "Prongs."
Happy December 17th to you all... Only seven more days and seven more chapters. Anyone excited? I am. Once again, it's rather short, but if I end up having to write a whole bunch in the last few chapters, it'll make up for whatever I'm missing here, don't worry.
Aimée
Chapter Five: Prongs
"Can you BELIEVE this?" Lavender Brown screamed out four days later, on December 17th. A notice had just been posted by Professor McGonagall, stating King's Cross Station in London had been snowed in – there were no trains coming or leaving, and furthermore the station wasn't even open. Those students planning to go home for the holidays would be able to go home…
After Christmas.
Neither Harry, Ron, nor Hermione minded; they had been planning to stay at Hogwarts anyway, Ron and Hermione mostly to simply keep Harry company. Seamus shrugged it off, saying it was more time to spend with Pansy – he had boasted about the entire event (which had now turned plural, according to him) to his dorm, talking in great detail and waving his hands wildly. Neville looked on, completely scandalized and entranced at the same time. He had never even kissed a girl; how was he supposed to make his individual happy?
The evening, Harry and Ron climbed the steps leading up to the Seventh Year dormitories wearily, until Ron opened the door and ran smack into Dean –
Holding two packages addressed to Harry and Ron in his hands.
Dean thrust the two gifts into their hands, and then spun back on his heel and pranced over to his own bed, which now held an expensive-looking watch made of, as far as Harry could tell, solid gold.
Harry walked over to his own bed, setting the small cerulean box carefully on his bedspread. He stared at it for a moment, finally opening it carefully with his calloused hands from years of flying and playing Seeker on the Gryffindor House Team.
One layer of paper… two… finally, a box opening up to reveal a tiny stag standing proud, raising it's sleek head to look up into the eyes of it's new owner. Harry stared, wide-eyed, at the tiny creature, finally raising his hand to the box so it could walk out onto his palm and take a look at it's new home.
The stag was a proud figure – Harry soon found out it was made of silver underneath the lifelike fur and antlers – with his deep black eyes that seemed to hold years of knowledge and wisdom, despite the fact the creature was hand-made less than a month before.
Next to him, Ron let out a yelp of delight; he had received a Chudley Cannons Keeper robe, bearing his name on the back. Seamus had received a large book of highly dangerous spells, all relating to pranks in some form or another. Neville had also received a book, but it was about the Founders of Hogwarts – one he had, coincidentally, been looking for.
Harry simply stared at the stag for a good ten minutes, before Ron snapped him out of his trance, telling him it was time to get some sleep; none of them had been sleeping very well for the past few nights, with the excitement of Christmas lingering over Hogwarts like a stubborn storm cloud that just wouldn't go away.
The next morning, Harry pocketed his stag – whom he now called Prongs, after his father's Animagus form – and once again, walked down to breakfast in the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione. As he walked in the door, he felt a pair of eyes on him, bearing into his skull. When he looked around for the culprit, however, no one met his gaze.
Once they reached their seats at the Gryffindor Table, he let Prongs loose on his plate, careful not to set any food around him. Prongs looked around bemused, finally settling down right in the middle of Harry's plate so he wasn't able to put large quantities of food on it, in fear of upsetting the stag.
"You really like that thing, don't you?" Ron observed with a mouthful of toast. "I wonder who had the sense enough to give that to you."
"Someone who obviously knew about Harry's father." Hermione answered, grabbing herself a bit of sausage. "Or someone who saw Harry's Patronus."
"The last Patronus I let out where other people could see it was in the Third Year," Harry said quietly, "Unless you guys could see me in the maze during the Tri-Wizard Tournament."
Ron shook his head, "No, I don't think we could – too dark."
"So the only other option would be…?" Harry asked, carefully planting a piece of fried tomato next to the now sleeping stag.
Both Ron and Hermione shrugged, "Not a clue."
"I got another letter as well," Harry admitted, digging into his robes for the piece of parchment. He had shown both Ron and Hermione the previous letter, as he didn't quite understand the meaning behind it. Hermione had smiled knowingly and explained to him all about the seven different archangels in the Christian belief, only two of which Harry remembered – Michael, whose significance the letter had already explained to him, and Azrael, one of the names Raphael had gone by.
Dear Harry (or shall I call you Michael from now on, seeing as how it's so fitting?),
I know many things about you, as does most of the school, but I wanted to get you something personal. I did a bit of research, asked a certain DADA Professor of ours, and came up with this; a stag, after Prongs. You can thank Professor Lupin for the idea, it was just the sort of thing I was looking for.
I'm watching you.
Azrael
"'I'm watching you'?" Ron raised an eyebrow, "That seems a bit sinister, doesn't it?"
Hermione shrugged, "Who isn't watching Harry? What about his life isn't public knowledge?"
Harry breathed in deeply, "Prongs."
