Harry Potter and the Crystal Ball
by Hannah
Okay, so this story struggles b/c I haven't worked on it in like, two years, and it's never been proofread, so do forgive . . . anyway, check out my other story, under Originals, called Saraella, b/c in my mind it is far superior, and if you need anything e-mail me at fiddle_d_d@bolt.com. Thanks for reading! :0)
Chapter Thirteen ~ Holiday Festivities
Ron accidentally swept a few chess pieces off the board. A rather disgruntled knight picked up his arm, which had broken off, and hopped away to sulk under the bed.
Stunned beyond words, Harry managed to sputter, "Wh-wh-who? When? What House?"
"Who else but a Slytherin?" Lupin said, obviously in a bad temper. "We'd just arrived at the lake when one of the teachers came bustling over. Of course, we thought it odd that they hadn't left already, seeing as they'd planned on doing so well over an hour ago. Anyhow, she told us that one of the Slytherins was missing and that they were searching all over the town. She said that McGonagall wanted to hold a meeting immediately back at Hogwarts, and that all teachers were to attend. Apparently the professors have given up search in Hogsmeade, although residents are still to remain on the lookout. Meanwhile, all the students were being hustled back to the castle when I Apparated over here to tell you."
Harry cleared his throat. "Well, I don't know what we're waiting for, then. Let's go."
The three of them Disapparated together, and found themselves in the entrance hall to Hogwarts. "Same little spot that Alice led us that one time?" Ron asked quietly.
"Yeah, I guess. That seems to be where all of the 'top secret' teacher meetings are," Harry replied softly. They set off through the labyrinth of passageways and staircases that made up Hogwarts' castle.
Finally, they arrived at the rug that concealed the little cubbyhole that the faculty coveted for their private affairs.
Upon entering, the soft greenish glow that emanated from the walls illuminated all too well the terrified faces of the staff.
"—what to do," McGonagall was whispering hoarsely, her face a ghastly shade of white. Alice was already sitting there, patting McGonagall's hand in a very matronly way. She didn't look at all concerned. On the contrary, she looked quite angry.
"Don't let it bother you so," she spat bitterly. Everyone assembled turned to stare at her.
"Well, you'd know," Professor Flitwick admitted.
"Trust me, don't worry about it," Alice cajoled. "And I will beat the hell out of that kid once he comes back." Her eyes contained a strange murderous glint that sent chills down Harry's spine.
"No need to go that far, Alice, I'm sure," Frank said, looking nervous.
"Oh, I didn't mean for you to take it literally," Alice corrected flatly. "Although it would be nice . . . No, but that kid had better have a good excuse lined up."
"Hmm, interesting," Snape mused. "However, the more immediate problem is finding him. I know the kid, of course, seeing as he's in my House. Jason Flitcher. A very—problematic child. A sixth year, I believe? Anyhow, no matter, we must send out search parties, regardless of your doubts, Miss Oak. For if the papers ever got wind of our ignoring the disappearance of a student—regardless of your adamant objections as to the relevancy of sending out a search party, Alice—Hogwarts would never hear the end of it."
"Quite true," Harry agreed readily.
"Well then," McGonagall sighed, "I suppose we ought to partner up and begin the search? We need Heads of House to stay with the students, of course. The rest of you, choose a partner and state your intentions as to the whereabouts of the search. Heads of House, you may go." McGonagall dismissed them with a weary nod of her head.
Harry and Alice set off down the hallway together, headed back for the Gryffindor Common Room.
"So you're performing a play with your seventh years, are you?" Alice asked.
"Yes, we decided it would be a much more interesting way of learning about some of the important figures. We were originally just going to perform a play about one of them, but later we decided that we should role- play. I assigned each student a famous witch or wizard and asked them to write a short soliloquy on the spells and potions that that particular person was responsible for creating. We're performing it on Christmas Eve."
"How intriguing . . . my students are also going to do something for the school," Alice said.
"Really, what?" Harry questioned, quite interested in the subject.
"Well, seeing as my class is Defense Against the Dark Arts, I decided that they ought to get a little more one-on-one experience," she explained. "So I've arranged for a Quidditch match."
"A Quidditch match? I'm afraid I don't understand," Harry admitted, somewhat baffled.
"Well, not an ordinary Quidditch match," Alice said as they rounded a corner. "Teachers versus students, but with some . . . obstacles."
"Obstacles as in . . . Dark Arts obstacles?" Harry ventured.
"Yes. Some creatures, perhaps, a few curses . . . maybe a potion or two. And, of course, I was anxious to speak to you about it," Alice chirped, "because I wanted you to be the Seeker for the teachers' team."
"Sure, fine, fine," Harry agreed. He hadn't played Quidditch for far too long, and would welcome the opportunity gladly. "How about you?" he asked. "Are you going to play a position?"
She nodded emphatically. "Keeper," she said shortly. They had reached the Fat Lady. "Razalas," she muttered off-handedly, waiting for the door to swing open.
All the students were waiting for them. Crowded around the small portrait hole, they bombarded the two teachers with an unending stream of questions.
"Is he okay?"
"Have they found him?"
"Did Voldemort kill him?"
"Is he going to get into trouble?"
"Please, calm down, there's nothing to be excited about," Alice assured them as she leapt agilely from the opening. Harry followed her silently. The potion that Alice had administered was now beginning to show its effects. He felt extremely drowsy. Of course, Alice hadn't told him about that part of the medication. He supposed that she must've mixed up a double potion: one to reduce fever and increase one's sleepiness. Obviously, with her omnipotence, she would be aware of the fact that he snored.
The students all made disappointed discourse. "Nothing? Nothing at all?" seemed to be the mutual question.
"Nothing of any relevant interest has happened," Harry intoned, lowering himself wearily into one of the over-stuffed armchairs. Alice did likewise. Sighing heavily, she blatantly refused to answer the questions the students continued to throw at them. Eventually, they tired of their attempts to get their stone-faced professor to speak and scurried off to their dorms.
Alice and Harry just sat quietly for a while, Harry staring moodily into the fire, his eyelids steadily drooping more and more noticeably, and Alice gazing thoughtfully out the window, her eyes seeming to see past the snow that fairly blotted all else from view.
"We'll have to go back to Hogsmeade over the break," Alice said somewhat suddenly, startling Harry from his reverie. The fire crackled in the background.
"Yeah, I suppose so," he agreed.
"There's no way that we can have the break without some deviation from the norm," she continued.
"True, true," Harry allowed. He was looking into the fire once again. He could hardly keep his eyes open.
"Tired?" Alice inquired.
"Yes. What dratted sort of sleeping potion did you give me?"
"Sorry about that," she said, cringing. "It's just that you would've never gone to sleep had I not given it to you. That cooling potion also has the effect of rejuvenating the person on whom it was used to an extraordinary extent."
"Well, very well. I think it best that I go to bed. If I don't, I'm likely to fall asleep right here."
"Yes, good idea," Alice muttered absently, once again staring fixedly out the window.
"Yes, well, er—good night," Harry mumbled. He made his way out of the portrait hole.
For a few moments' time, Alice remained glued to her chair, gazing out into the darkness that swirled about Hogwarts. Finally, she gave a small shudder, as though chilled, and blinked several times. Another fit. Glad that no one could see her face paling and her eyes dilating, she scurried from the room and ran post-haste for her bedroom, her teeth bringing blood to her lower lip.
It was apparent to Harry that Alice had had another of her attacks the previous evening. Her eyes were once again framed by their purple bags, and he could just make out a small scab on her lower lip. Her hands didn't appear particularly steady as she shoveled sausage and eggs around her plate, hardly touching any of it.
"So, Harry, your play is tomorrow evening?" Sirius asked.
"Yeah, we have a dress rehearsal tonight," he replied. "But I'd rather you just skip the rehearsal and see the actual performance. It will be more enjoyable that way."
"Of course," Lupin said in agreement, lifting a forkful of scrambled eggs to his parted lips.
"And when is your . . . unique Quidditch Tournament going to be held, Alice?" Harry asked, fishing for some other topic of discussion.
Alice swallowed a mouthful of water and winced. She rasped, "Hopefully on Christmas Eve." She nearly interrupted herself with a sputtering cough.
"You have a cold!" Emily exclaimed with evident worry. "We shouldn't have gone off to the lake, with it being so cold and damp—"
"Nonsense." Alice interrupted impatiently, and continued by croaking, "It's still five days away. I'm sure that I will be well by that time. It's merely a sore throat."
Harry figured that that could very well be the case, but also knew that if it were anything more serious, Alice would hold it back from him. It was her nature.
The breakfast passed quite uneventfully, as did most of the afternoon. Alice was reading a mystery story, Harry was talking animatedly with Sirius and Lupin, and Malfoy, Frank, Emily, and Ron were holding a mini chess tournament.
"It's so wonderful to see you again, Sirius!" Lupin exclaimed. He was positively beaming.
"I know! There's so much to catch up on . . ."
Alice put down her book with a sigh. "Time passes far too quickly," she whispered in a crackly voice.
"You have no idea," Sirius agreed. And then added, "Well, I guess you do . . . my God, the whole concept of knowing everything is baffling."
Harry and Lupin nodded in unison. Ron and Frank looked up from their chess game. Apparently, they were the champions. Emily and Malfoy were watching them play. It was rather obvious that Frank was losing to Ron. He looked relieved at the opportunity to rest from the game.
"Let's do something else," Emily suggested.
"Like what? Alice is sick. She can't go outside. Unless she cures herself," Malfoy pointed out.
"You go ahead," she encouraged. "I rather enjoy being sick every now and then."
"Why?" Frank looked absolutely baffled.
"Because, it reminds me how lucky I am when I'm not ill." Alice smiled sweetly.
"All right . . . but really, that is just too weird. I don't really know what we can do, anyhow," Lupin said.
"Let's just get on some broomsticks and play around," Malfoy suggested. "I haven't been on mine since we graduated."
"Wonderful idea! Some of us will need practice for Alice's Quidditch match," Emily exclaimed.
The group made their way out to the field, where they played broomstick tag for several hours. Harry's stomach then gave a horrendous rumble.
"Must've missed dinner," Sirius said, glancing at a pocket watch that he produced from a pocket in his robe.
"Oh my!" Harry shouted, touching down on the snow-filled field. He began to run back toward the castle, his breath suspended in front of him in a miniature cloud.
"What is it?" Emily asked shrilly.
Glancing back over his shoulder just long enough to reply, Harry's voice was whipped about by the wind as he practically screamed, "I forgot about the dress rehearsal! I'll see you back in the common room! I'll—" The wind suddenly picked up gusto, and no one could hear anything more.
Frank reasonably assessed the situation. "Well, we may as well stop by the kitchen and see if we can pick up any leftover morsels. Then we can go back to the common room and keep Alice company. Harry will show up sooner or later."
McGonagall burst into Gryffindor's common room. She was panting for air as she leaned against the side of the portrait hole, and she looked very angry and agitated. All the students backed away in anticipation of one of her well-known lectures.
"Alice? Where's Alice?" she asked, when she was finally capable of breathing again.
"I don't know . . . in one of the girls' dorms, I think. She's not feeling well," one of the boys explained.
"Could someone go get her? It's urgent." Her face looked thunderous, and several girls started up the stairs at once to accomplish her biding. She did not look like she was to be reckoned with.
Alice slowly made her way down the stairs a minute or two later. Her face looked pale and pinched. Suddenly, for some reason, McGonagall felt a twinge of something. She shook it off. It couldn't be a premonition . . . she was just angry.
"Alice, come quickly. The little Slytherin who disappeared just . . . well, reappeared."
She smiled grimly. "I'll enjoy this," she rasped hoarsely.
"So will I," McGonagall agreed, assisting Alice through the portrait hole. "Of course, you were right. The only thing the child needs is a good thrashing."
"Yes, well . . . Jason Flitcher will never again do anything so foolish or cruel again."
McGonagall led Alice to the Staff Room, where a rather heavyset boy with wispy brown hair sat in the midst of most of the staff. Snape was looking particularly murderous. As they entered, Alice could hear him screaming, "Do you know what this means? I'm going to have to take points from our own House! How excruciatingly embarrassing! A hundred points from Slytherin, and detention for a month. No, don't you dare say a word. Not one word, do you hear me? Now here's McGonagall. Show her that we Slytherins have at least some principals."
"Doubtful, though it would be pleasant to see." McGonagall's face was very severe as she approached the boy. "Now where were you?"
"Really, I don't see why everyone is taking this whole thing so far." The boy rolled his pale green eyes dramatically. "I was only in the Forbidden Forest, looking around, and I got lost. I mean, it's not like Voldemort abducted me or anything."
"In these treacherous times, anything could happen!" McGonagall flung back, looking thoroughly murderous. Her chest was heaving as she fought to keep hold of what little was left of her temper.
"So I can't even take a short walk without everyone completely freaking out?" He looked skeptical.
Frank tried a more peaceful route. "The Forbidden Forest is . . . well, forbidden anyhow. You shouldn't have been there in the first place. What Professor, or Headmistress, McGonagall was trying to say was that with Voldemort running on the loose, we need to take every possible precaution."
McGonagall's eye twitched violently. "Detention! Suspension! Expulsion!"
"Now, now, Professor—" Flitwick said timidly, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder.
"No! This child is being—is being—"
"Dammit, listen!" Alice exclaimed in a harsh whisper. "The child wasn't right in wandering about in the Forbidden Forest. That is usually punishable by detention. Also, he's infuriated McGonagall, who is already under too much stress with the current situation. But suspension and expulsion are out of the question. If the Ministry is too scared to let the students go off on vacation, what makes you think they'll let you send the kid home for good? I say a week's worth of detentions cleaning bedpans in the school infirmary."
The student nodded in agreement. As long as he didn't have to face McGonagall's wrath, any arrangement, no matter how vile, would be fine!
"Settled." McGonagall slumped into a chair. "You're all dismissed. Except Alice, I'd like a word with you."
"Of course." Everyone filed from the room, except Alice and Harry. Harry hesitated; was McGonagall going to loose her temper at Alice? Alice saw him hesitate and gesticulated for him to leave with a sweep of her hand. He slowly closed the door and waited in the hallway, expecting to hear McGonagall's ranting at any moment. Oddly, he heard nothing.
After a few minutes, the door opened again. Alice and McGonagall walked out into the hall, and, smiling, McGonagall gave Alice a hug. "Thank you," she said as they pulled apart. "I don't know how I'm going to get through all of this!"
"You will," Alice croaked. "Don't worry about it. Everything will be fine."
She smiled and waved as they walked down opposite ends of the corridor. Harry popped out from behind a statue. "What was all of that about?" he demanded.
"She's under a lot of stress. She doesn't feel capable of handling this whole mess. She's certain Dumbledore could do it better."
"Oh."
They walked in silence to Alice's door. She said the password and the wall gaped before her. "Good night, Harry," she said, planting a quick kiss on his forehead.
"Good night," Harry replied. "Get well soon."
"I'm sure I will." She walked through the portal and the wall closed behind her. Harry walked back to his room and tried to fall asleep. But he was too worried about the play the next evening.
"Just remember to take deep breaths and speak clearly." Harry could hardly speak himself as he addressed his students. The performance was only thirty minutes away. "I know you'll do fine." As a matter of fact, he wasn't at all certain. He was extremely nervous. What if someone just wanted to mess it up, for the fun of it? Oh God, if I start thinking of everything that can go wrong I'll go crazy, he told himself.
The room was dark. Harry remembered the time in his fourth year that he had been in this exact same room, with the other school champions, nervously awaiting the announcement of the first task. The year that Voldemort returned. An involuntary shiver traced its way down his spine. He wouldn't think of that now.
Suddenly, through the open window, a small object whooshed into the room. Harry started, and then realized that it was only Hedwig. She dropped a small, folded piece of parchment into his lap, and then flew right back out again. Probably to hunt mice.
Ripping the golden seal apart (it was Alice's': AHO encompassed in a circle of stars), he read the short note appreciatively.
Good luck, Harry! I know you'll do just fine. Don't give the performance a second thought.
XO Alice
Smiling, Harry folded the letter and stuck it into one of the pockets in his black dress robes. If Alice said there was nothing to worry about, then he shouldn't trouble himself.
"Psst, Harry," Frank hissed, poking his head through the doorway. A narrow triangle of light cut a path through the room.
"Yeah?" he asked.
"Show time. Break a leg." With a smile, he backed out of the doorframe.
"All right, just remember everything we've done thus far," Harry reminded his students, throwing the door wide open.
A small sting quartet struck up a frenzy of music as the students filed out, garbed in various attire from a wide range of time periods. Ioma Bidmin Peroipritandtabaygode, Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor, and Albus Dumbledore were just a few of the better-known witches and wizards represented.
Alice had been correct. The play went from opening curtain to the curtain drop with nary a mishap. The audience, which consisted of every student and teacher, was wild with applause. Beaming with pride for his students, Harry ducked back into the back room, where the cast was gathered.
"Congratulations! You were all wonderful," Harry exclaimed in genuine excitement. "Great job! Oh, well done!"
They all went back out into the Great Hall for a final round of applause, and then joined their tables for a late celebratory supper. Alice grinned at Harry. "They were excellent," she informed him. It would seem that she had gotten over her cold, for her voice had returned to its usual flowing American alto.
"Thank you," Harry said, blushing slightly. All the other teachers rushed over to congratulate him as well.
Sighing contentedly that evening in bed, Harry's mind wandered to other things. Classes were over until after New Year's, which was still more than a week away. The next major event would be Alice's Quidditch game.
He hadn't been aware of the fact that she played Quidditch. He wondered if she was any good at the game. It must've been hard on her, to be at Hogwarts for four years and never have been allowed to participate in any such activities. She couldn't go to Hogsmeade, she couldn't attend Quidditch games, she couldn't participate in the feasts and celebrations . . .
Or did she? Maybe she'd had an invisibility cloak. Whole new horizons were visible with that possibility. He wondered if she'd ever noticed him. He dismissed that thought immediately. Of course she had. Not to be vain, but he was Harry Potter, one of the most renowned wizards of all time. Of course she'd noticed him.
But I shouldn't worry myself over what's to come tomorrow or the next day or the next, Harry firmly told himself. What is to come is to come, and I can't do a thing about it. With this final thought, he fell asleep.
Christmas Eve, like all the other chilly winter days, began dank and gray. Harry and Alice were eagerly discussing her Quidditch Tournament, set for three in the afternoon, over lunch.
"I hope it doesn't start snowing," Harry said with a frown.
"It won't," Alice assured him. "But it will be rather gusty. All the better, I think. A little challenge never hurt anyone."
"I hope everything goes well."
"It will," Alice chirped.
"Yeah, but I haven't played Quidditch for far too long." Harry was somewhat worried. He hoped he still knew how to hang on to his broom.
"You'll be fine," Alice cooed. "Don't worry! That's what's wrong with you—you worry too much! That's my job."
Sighing, Harry feigned a smile. "All right, all right. I think I'm going to go polish my Firebolt." Sirius had given Harry the broomstick in his third year at Hogwarts.
"I think I'll go get my broomstick ready, too," Alice agreed, pushing her hardly-touched plate away with a long white finger.
"All right. So we're meeting on the field at two?"
"Yes, I think that's sufficient time for a little explaining. I need to touch on some rule changes and the like, and we might want to just make sure everyone has a serviceable broomstick and so forth."
"All right . . . well, I'll see you later," Harry faltered while exiting the Great Hall. His stomach was flopping around within him; he wasn't at all sure he could hold onto that broomstick. He'd probably loose breakfast and lunch once he got up off the ground.
Harry was in his room, using the Broomstick Servicing Kit that Hermione had given him while they were still at Hogwarts, when a sudden gust of chilling wind swept suddenly through the opened window. The tattered curtains fluttered lazily on the small breeze as it whisked through the room. Shivering, he stood to close the window. As he pulled the pane downwards, a tiny piece of paper on the floor caught his eye. Frowning, he bent to fetch it, and slowly, carefully unfolded the parchment.
…meet me at seven in the Forbidden Forest. I will be waiting. No one must know of the meeting. Be there, or …
"I wonder what this is," Harry mused, but not really wondering at all. His mind was far too troubled to really take in this new development. He sat back down on the bed and began once again to absently polish the broom handle. He didn't even notice that he was using his robe to do so.
At precisely two o'clock he entered the Quidditch field, where he saw a small group of people huddled together. Alice was standing in front of them all, resplendent in a flowing golden robe. Harry also recognized his team to consist of Ron, Malfoy, Sirius, Snape, and Madam Hooch, who usually refereed the games. He hastened to join the others, just in time to hear Alice say quite warmly, "Well, in one hour the school will turn out to see our Quidditch match. Although all the usual Quidditch rules apply, there are several additions for this version. Firstly, if you can't defeat an obstacle, you must leave the game. Or, if, heaven forbid, an obstacle harms you in any way, you must also sit out of the game. Each team has two replacements. If more than two players are removed from your team, you have to keep playing with the number of players remaining. Any obstacle that comes in your path must be fought, no shirking duties. We're playing this game not only for entertainment, but for educational purposes as well. Any questions?"
Nobody said anything.
"Very well. Huddle with your team." The teachers broke off to one corner of the field, the students to another.
"What position is everyone playing?" Snape asked as soon as everyone was clustered into a tight circle. He brushed a wisp of his shortened locks from his eyes and looked intently at the six faces of his teammates.
"Well, Harry's Seeker," Alice informed, "I'm Keeper, Madam Hooch, Ron, and Sirius are the Chasers, and the Beaters are Malfoy and Snape. Got it?"
Everyone nodded, a gust of wind blowing a cloud of dusty white to veil their faces. Harry squinted, his eyes narrow in his cold-flushed cheeks.
"Is there a—plan?" Sirius ventured uncertainly.
"Well, basically, there're going to be a number of little obstacles. I'm going to tell you about each one." She smiled, her own cheeks unnaturally red from the chill. "Several rather dark creatures are going to be in the air with us, or positioned on hoops or Bludgers. Nothing that you haven't encountered before. Things that you learned about throughout your schooling at Hogwarts. Also, I'm having Frank and Emily shoot off a number of curses at sporadic intervals throughout the game. Once again, nothing you can't handle. Nothing extremely fancy or anything; I don't want to outdo the students. I have two seventh years, and then one student from each preceding year, except firsts, since they cannot have broomsticks. Therefore, they have varying levels of experience with handling the Dark Arts. For that reason, all the spells and creatures will be of various levels of difficulty as well. You may have to reach quite far back into your memories to remember a certain counter-curse or spell to ward off various creatures."
"What about you? Aren't you going to assist us?" Madam Hooch asked eagerly.
"Now that wouldn't be fair," Alice admonished. "My rule is that the Keepers can't help with the obstacles. The seventh year playing Keeper is thoroughly aware of the fact."
Everyone looked understandably disappointed, but none voiced their opinion. "Will we win?" Malfoy inquired sheepishly.
"I'm not telling," Alice answered with a devilish grin.
Harry pretended to pout. "Please, pretty please?"
"Maybe, maybe not" was the maddening response. A short silence ensued, and then Alice added, "The audience will be out any minute now."
Harry's nervousness had vanished temporarily, but now came back in full-force. It felt like his stomach was trying to leap up into his throat, only to be pulled down again by his intestines.
He stood, transfixed, watching in breath-stopping terror as the students poured out into the bleachers. He felt a hand on his shoulder. To his surprise, it was Snape.
"Don't worry so much. The kids will boo no matter what. They don't want the teachers to win, remember?"
Maybe that's what was making him so nervous. Even—especially—if he pulled off a spectacular performance, the kids would be upset.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Harry mumbled.
"Just don't let it get to you," Snape exclaimed, and did something quite frightening—he smiled.
"What's gotten into you?" Harry exclaimed with a laugh.
Snape shrugged. "I've decided that I shouldn't let old grudges ruin my life, with a little help from Alice. She talked some sense into me. Believe me, I wish someone had tried to do that years ago. I feel wonderful!" But then his face fell. "However, I don't think Remus or Sirius have yet forgiven me."
Harry glanced over at the two in question, both of whom were glaring coldly at him. Tugging absently at the collar of his red Quidditch robe, Harry mumbled, "Yeah, well, just give it a while. I think they'll get over it, sooner or later."
"Yeah, definitely later," Snape added dejectedly. "Oh well."
"Yes, well . . . good luck! Keep the Bludgers away."
"Will do." Snape walked away to talk to Madam Hooch. Harry, meanwhile, fought his way through several small snowdrifts to stand with Lupin and Sirius.
"You know," he said somewhat pointedly, "it isn't kind of you to treat Snape the way you are when he's trying to make amends."
"He started it," Lupin pointed out.
"You should finish it," Harry managed between clenched teeth. Not only was he angry, but also he was trying to keep his teeth from chattering.
"God, you sound like my mum. Don't do that!" Sirius exclaimed.
"Well really, you are both being ridiculously immature. It's fair depressing when your godson has to knock some sense into you."
"I agree. The 'godson' should just mind his own business," Lupin admonished. "Harry, you don't know everything about Snape."
"Neither do you," Harry retorted.
"Even that being the case, we know him a hellufa lot better than you do," Sirius reminded Harry.
"Yes, but Alice knows him as well as he knows himself, and she's the one who tried to get him to change. And it worked. And it would be a lot more wonderful if you would make an effort to forgive him a schoolboy grudge and make him realize that he's finally doing the right thing!" Harry's chest was heaving with rage as he stomped away.
"Wait, Harry!" Lupin cried. "Come back here. Harry! You were right. We're sorry."
Harry ignored them. Alice glided over to where he stood. "Ready? It's about time to mount broomsticks and begin the match."
"Yeah, I guess," Harry grumbled.
"All right then. Good luck!" She shot him such a cheery smile that he couldn't help but feel a bit better.
Frank was refereeing. "Teams, get into position," he said, his voice projected many times louder via a spell.
Harry and his team gathered together, and they all exchanged thumbs ups and smiles.
"Mount your broomsticks . . ." A shrill whistle chirruped through the crisp winter air. Harry found himself soaring up, up, upwards. He was flying, and it was glorious!
He shot like a bullet into the sky until he was far above the bleachers. From here he could see all the action, while keeping one eye on the constant alert for a fluttering bit of gold: the Snitch.
Obviously, the student Seeker thought he stood the best chance if he stayed on Harry's heels. He was just a foot below Harry's broomtail; if Harry felt the urge, he could've bent over and brushed the boy's head with his fingertips. But he wasn't worried. The Seeker was on a fairly obsolete broom compared to his Firebolt, the fastest broom model in wizarding technology.
To Harry's surprise, McGonagall was commentating. He had to admit that it wasn't quite as exciting as when the Weasley twins' friend Lee Jordan had done the announcements, but she was putting in a good effort.
"Teachers in possession of the Quaffle . . . oooh, nice Bludger work by Johnson . . . Quaffle stolen by Geoff of Gryffindor . . . an incredible repossession by Sirius Black, way to go! . . . Jennings, student Beater, hit by a well-aimed Bludger, great job, Severus . . . and the teachers score!"
It all happened in a matter of moments. Harry couldn't believe how fast the plays seemed to be occurring. He knew that they were, in reality, no faster than what they had always been, but he was out of practice. If the Snitch were to suddenly appear, and the student to begin the dive first . . . but he wouldn't think such morbid thoughts. He was going to win! He was jolted back to the game by a sudden shout from McGonagall.
"The first obstacle has been released into the arena. Nothing much, a quaddleratch, but only those with the training of sixth year and above will be able to defeat this little guy. It seems to be drawn by some sort of magical magnetism to the Quaffle . . . Ron Weasley currently in possession . . . oooh, close one! Better watch those sharp little teeth."
It did look rather foreboding. The little monster was about the size of a small file cabinet, half of which was its head. The jaws, which were agape, were filled with thousands and thousands of needle-sharp teeth at least an inch long. It had nearly gnashed Ron's fingers.
"How do you fight this bloody nuisance?" Harry heard Ron wail. He had dropped the Quaffle, which was now being sped across the field by a fifth year. She seemed absolutely terrified of the creature that was trailing on her heels.
"Adkins dodges a Bludger hit by Draco Malfoy and goes for the goal . . . nice save by Alice Oak! The score remains at 10-0, teachers leading. Someone had better deal with that quaddleratch, so the next obstacle can be introduced before somebody gets hurt."
McGonagall's timing was either right on the money or she should have joined Seers-R-Us, because one of the seventh years finally got an opportunity to shoot a streak of purple lightning at the small creature, which shriveled up into a small crusty ball that disintegrated into ash, dissolving the snow upon which it scattered.
The game progressed, so quickly that Harry was hard pressed to follow the Quaffle.
The teachers' lead increased steadily . . . twenty to nothing, thirty to nothing, forty to nothing, fifty to nothing, fifty to ten, sixty to ten, sixty to twenty, sixty to thirty, seventy to thirty, eighty to thirty . . .
Suddenly, a brilliant streak of golden and greenish light seemed to fill the air, and the movements of all the players seemed to become more relaxed. Harry tried to put his arm in front of him, and was amazed to see it seem to float ever-so-slowly into the position that he had wanted. Somehow, time had been slowed!
McGonagall's voice came over the loudspeaker in slow-mo. "And the Time-Teaser Curse has been activated by Professor Reede. If a seventh year or higher doesn't break this curse soon, we could be here for a very, very long time."
Harry tried to dart toward the other side of the stadium, but he crawled like a snail. He saw the ball gracefully fall into the hands of a student ten feet below him, and the student slowly floating toward their goalpost. Just as delayed, Madam Hooch drifted over toward the second year in possession. A hand shot with excruciatingly low speed toward the ball, as the student carefully dragged it from her suspended reach . . .
Professor Snape's voice blasted like a bass drum. "Kroo-loo-dee-ous . . ."
Madam Hooch's hand grasped the ball in a fraction of a second and she was speeding toward the teachers' goalpost.
The students all seemed relieved that the curse had been broken. Harry was, too. The game had been maddeningly uneventful when time was turned down several notches.
Madam Hooch had reached the goal and successfully thrown the ball into one of the rings. Ninety to thirty. Harry wanted the Snitch to come soon. His biggest fear right now was that he'd lost his touch, that he'd forgotten how to dive down onto the Snitch and pull out with that sparkling golden ball with its snowy wings clasped tightly in his palm.
The student in possession of the Quaffle let out a muffled scream and let it fall down, down, down onto the field below. Harry followed the ball with his eyes, or what had been the ball only moments before. It was now a whirling ball of fire, hissing ominously as it loomed ever closer to the snow-coated grass beneath him. With a loud crackle, it hit the snow. Suddenly, the whole ground was alight, and flames were soaring ever higher . . .
The children in the stands were in a panic. Harry could hear McGonagall's voice booming over the loud speaker: "No need for panic, stay calm. It's just the Drain Flame. All the fire does is suck the energy from those it touches. No cause for worry, just sit down."
The flames soared higher and higher, engulfing the other players. Finally, Harry felt them licking his own feet. Odd, the coldness he felt. Like all the heat had been pulled from him . . .
Harry hung limply from his broom, as though he were made of straw. His fingers felt ready to release their hold at any moment.
A soft mumbling reached Harry's ears from somewhere below him. The inferno of heat turned an eerie shade of black before falling like the tides into nothingness.
Harry finally mustered enough strength to gaze below him. He found that many of the other players were in the same fix as he. Snape was muttering something to himself, probably some sort of strengthening spell, but he was literally hanging onto the broom by his little finger. Alice was sprawled over one of the goalposts, looking thoroughly ill, and one of the students was lying spread-eagled in the snow.
"And someone is injured!" McGonagall managed to mumble into the microphone, slouched over in her seat in the stands. Everyone in the audience was draped over a chair, or lying on the pavement, or doubled over in their chair. Harry had a suspicion that the game would be called off. It was.
"It is my belief," McGonagall stated, "that this game should be postponed until further notice, seeing as players and fans alike are both without the energy to continue this match. Let's move inside. If we can," McGonagall added rather wryly.
Harry somehow maneuvered his broomstick to a window in Gryffindor Tower, and fell in a sprawling heap on the floor of one of the boys' dormitories. Groaning, he shifted into a somewhat less cramped position.
"How long will this damned spell last?" Harry muttered through his lax jaws. He didn't voice the opinion to anyone in particular, and certainly he didn't expect an answer. Therefore, he was quite surprised to hear a small voice reply to his question.
"Well, sir, I think the spell lasts only a short period of time, but don't take my word on it, sir."
He managed to turn his head to face the direction of the voice. Seated on top of one of the beds was a small house elf, with ears of an extremely disproportionate size and eyes like tennis balls.
"Well, what's your name?" Harry asked kindly.
"My name is Francis, sir, and I have heard wonderful things about you, Professor Potter." He gazed at Harry with crystalline orbs that shone deeply with admiration. "Dobby talks much of Harry Potter."
"Yes, how is Dobby? I haven't seen him for a while," Harry replied.
"Dobby is very well, sir. Dumbledore gave him a striped hat before he disappeared. He does love clothes, Dobby does." The house elf's gargantuan eyes brimmed with tears. "But Dumbledore is gone, sir, and poor Francis misses him muchly."
"Yes, we all miss Dumbledore, too," Harry said in sympathetic agreement. He did miss Dumbledore. Dumbledore was of the type of person with whom Harry truly felt he could talk. McGonagall was very kind, and made a great headmistress, but she just wasn't the same. Dumbledore's fatherly presence radiated a glowing kindness to which Harry felt drawn. Perhaps it was the lack of a father in his own life. Great, now he felt weepy, too.
"You know, Francis, I have to go downstairs and talk with some people who are probably wondering where I am. Besides, tomorrow is the Christmas feast. You should probably be helping prepare the feast in the kitchen."
"Right Harry Potter is, sir!" Francis exclaimed, bouncing upright upon the bed and giving a small salute as he dashed out into the hallway. Harry could hear the flopping of his mismatched shoes (apparently Dobby had created a new trend) as he bounded down the stairs. Harry followed somewhat more slowly. He was still feeling unsteady, but at least it was better than hardly being able to move at all.
He maneuvered through the numerous stone passageways and finally found his way into the large Great Hall, where it seemed everyone had congregated. Alice smiled at him as he wandered in, and Hagrid grinned and waved with a hand the size of a small floor rug.
Slowly, he made his way to the staff table, all the while trying to listen to the speech that McGonagall was in the middle of presenting to an uncannily silent audience of students.
"Usually, we are not accustomed to having such a large number of students on campus over the Christmas holiday. However, we've decided to treat the day like any other holiday: no lessons and a feast in the late afternoon." She had to wait a moment as the students cheered at the prospect of an additional Hogwarts feast. "Quiet down, quiet down. Lessons will not be present until New Years Day. However, on January second, you are to report to your classes as you would on any normal day. Until then, however, you may do as you wish, as long as you follow the school rules. The regulations are far more important now that danger is imminent. Is that clear?"
A vigorous nodding of heads followed.
"Very well. You are all dismissed to your common rooms until supper." A throng of students filed from the room, and the teachers stood to follow.
"Wait," McGonagall said somewhat sharply. "I want to talk with you all."
Harry lowered himself back into his seat, looking somewhat sheepish.
"Please, just keep an eye on the children. I know you might feel somewhat resentful of the fact that the students are stealing away one of our major times of relaxation, but—well, there isn't anything to be done about it." McGonagall looked extremely weary. "Just make sure they don't get into any trouble," she pleaded. "You may go."
Harry spent the rest of the evening recovering from the spell that had gone somewhat awry. As he crawled into bed, he could scarcely fall asleep, his excitement for Christmas was so great.
Of course, the day seemed like any other, but Harry knew differently. It may have seemed childish, to still be so excited about Christmas, but he loved awakening to the morning knowing that people actually cared.
He quickly pulled on some slippers, for the floor was unbearably cold compared to the warmth of his bed, and peered over the edge of his bed to see what gifts may await him.
He found, to his delight, nine. He tore the brightly colored paper from the packages greedily, ripping the bows to shreds. The first box was from Mrs. Weasley, and contained a sweater (gold) and a box of home-baked cakes and cookies in various wizarding flavors.
The next gift was wrapped in a satiny black paper and tied with a glittering golden ribbon. Harry knew immediately that it was from Alice. He had come to learn quite quickly that that particular color combination was her trademark. Upon unwrapping the present, he found an ancient leather book and a small, glowing box that radiated a soft purple sheen. Heart thumping, he read the title of the tome: Reading The Persona Imager. He could hardly believe it. But then he'd remembered her saying something about giving it to him. She was as good as her word. He gingerly placed it on a shelf beside his bed. He'd look at it more closely later.
The next was in dull brown postage paper, and rather sloppily tied. Harry slit the tape holding it together to find a small, dusty apron inside of a thoroughly unattractive shade of brown. Dobby. He should've guessed.
Another gift was wrapped in a blue and green plaid. When unwrapped, the box was found to contain a new set of herbs and plants necessary for potion making. A small card on the bow read:
To Harry
I know, I'm too practical.
Frank
It actually meant a lot to Harry. He had forgotten to finish his errands in Diagon Alley, and had been without proper herbs this whole time.
A tiny present wrapped in red and gold had been carefully placed on the desk. He found it to contain a very delicate-looking blown-glass figurine of a lion. Harry was somewhat startled when it began to strut about in his hand, but after over seven years spent in the wizarding world, where just about anything could happen, nothing surprised him much anymore. The tag told him it was from Ron. "Still a brave Gryffindor. Thanks for sticking by me," he read aloud. His throat thick with suppressed emotion, he placed it very carefully on the desk. It curled up under the rusted sconce, which was radiating a pleasant heat, and fell asleep.
A wild-looking paper of sparkling greens and brilliant magentas bespoke Emily in every way. The box was from Wizard's Fashion Depot. He was very reluctant to peer inside, and found a rather motley set of dress robes in cornflower blue. They were grotesque beyond description. Only have to wear them once, to show her that I do use them, he thought, depositing them upon the floor with discarded garments.
A small bag produced a pair of black socks that looked quite ordinary. Upon stripping off his slippers and placing them on his feet, however, Harry discovered that his toes were pleasantly toasty. Lupin had jotted him a quick note wishing him a merry holiday.
That left two: an over-sized package in rat-spangled paper (he guessed it was from Hagrid) and an unadorned white box that was taped shut. He picked up the smaller of the two and, unbinding the tape, shook the lid to open the package.
He found inside a small pair of gold-rimmed spectacles, accompanied by a tiny card that read:
Truth Spectacles
Wizards Are Us
Tired of being lied to? Sick of being the guy in the middle?
Need to know when people are saying what is real?
Don't hesitate to believe them now! Use
Truth spectacles
and you will know who you can trust!
In the case of any problems, contact us at
1800 Wizard Lane
London, England
98234
Harry read the smaller note aloud. "Sorry, Harry, but I couldn't find a single thing of use besides these. I thought that perhaps with the hard times so many seem to think still lay ahead of us, these may come in handy. I look forward to seeing you later today. Sirius." He smiled in spite of himself. Truth spectacles. What a ridiculous idea.
Harry finally fell upon the last of his presents. He couldn't drag this one onto the bed to open. He had to rear up on the very tips of his toes to reach the top to open the box. He was somewhat daunted to find the top speckled with holes.
He finally managed to rip the box open, and stood agape in the middle of the room when he found a small lizard-like thing staring at him. It was a frindlegroff, an uncommon sort of serpent that dwelled in caves and whose scales had unusual magical charms. And it ate dead grackliggens, rare goose-like creatures. Harry didn't even want to think how much that was going to cost him.
Just then he heard a knock upon his door. He bounded toward the door and flung it open to find all of his friends on the other side. "Merry Christmas!" they exclaimed.
"And to all of you as well!" he replied enthusiastically. "Thank you for your gifts."
They all nodded. "And thank you," they each said in return.
Harry had found each of them a present while in Hogsmeade. Alice he had given a small pair of crystal ball earrings which seemed to match her necklace fairly well; Ron had received a rat, just because Ron had given him one for his birthday; Frank had gotten a nice set of wizarding pajamas, in pine green silk; Sirius was fortunate enough to get a crystal ball paper weight (consult the forces while waiting for clients! The slogan had said); Lupin had received a set of fancy quill pens and finest quality parchment and ink; and had presented Emily with a new shade of lipstick called "Frosty Flower," which changed colors with one's body temperature.
"Let's go get some breakfast," Sirius urged. "I'm absolutely starving."
"Yes, let's," Emily agreed. "There won't be any lunch, since the feast is at five, and I sure am hungry. I would hate to miss breakfast and have to wait until then to eat."
Harry readily agreed and accompanied his companions to the Great Hall, where they gorged on pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon, and blood sausage. Alice ate a piece of toast. With currant jam.
After that, they found their way to Alice's room, where a roaring blaze was crackling contentedly in the hearth. They all curled up on the bed or in large armchairs that she produced.
They recounted the Christmases of past, and Harry listened eagerly as Lupin and Sirius talked about holidays from their days at Hogwarts, when his parents had been students.
"We always stayed for the break, just so we could be together," Lupin concluded. "Not like Sirius had any choice. He had been orphaned several years before. We always liked to keep him company. And Lily would stay, too. She was such a pretty girl, even then . . . had half the boys goggling over her, she did . . . Of course, the feasts were better back then. We had more food that you could imagine for the dozen or so people who stayed for the holiday. Plum puddings and goose and roasted duck and vegetable pasties . . . " And Lupin and Sirius would both smile fondly as they reminisced.
And Emily and Frank had some interesting tales about Beauxbatons, where they had both attended school.
"You'd wake up in the morning and the dormitory would be filled with lacy paper snowflakes, not one the same as any other," Emily recounted. "And then you'd make your way downstairs to a grand breakfast, and they had a tree four stories tall in the main gathering room, where everyone's presents were clustered. You'd find yours and open them with everyone else, and there was always so much laughter. I so enjoyed Christmas at school!"
Eventually, they decided to go outside for a stroll by the lake. But one thing led to another and the peaceful walk became a snowball war. Spattered with snow and shivering in the damp, they made their way back into the school and prepared for the feast.
Harry had never seen such grand festivities! The students had all donned dress robes for the dancing that was to follow, and the golden platters that graced the white linen tabletops twinkled invitingly in the soft glow of thousands of tiny candles. A large tree was in the front of the room, dripping with beautiful ornaments that only a wizard could create. The room was bursting with holiday spirit.
He sat beside Alice and Frank at the dinner table, and began to help himself to the multitudes of food that heaped the table. He began with some spiced rice, lobster tail, and fresh tossed salad, and from there went on to eat so much that he felt ready to explode. When the table produced dessert, he could barely swallow a serving of plum pudding and apple pie a la mode. Absolutely stuffed, he pushed the plate away, and it cleared itself of any remaining tidbits of food.
"That was delicious," Frank said.
"Yes, most certainly," Alice agreed.
"Well, I suppose once the students have finished feasting, we can begin the dancing," Harry concluded, gazing around at the other tables that filled the spacious hall. Most of the students were facing glimmering golden platters that were bereft of any morsel of food, but some were yet eating dessert.
When the last student had finally finished their food and their plate had cleaned itself, McGonagall stood up. "May the festivities begin!" she exclaimed. Alice wearily pointed her wand at the tables and they temporarily disappeared. The students took the cue and stood, and their chairs disappeared as well.
The staff was standing as well. A waltz began to play from an ancient phonograph in the corner of the room, and the students were beginning to dance. From the looks of it, many did not know classical dancing. Harry offered Alice a hand, and she accepted it with a smile.
She was stunningly attired in a figure-fitting purple satin gown that matched the color of her eyes. Her hair was pulled back and pilled on top of her head, and she was wearing the new earrings he had given her.
He led her in a slow waltz around the Great Hall, holding her close. He didn't want the moment to ever end, but the music stopped and a vivacious tango took its place. Harry wasn't familiar with the steps, so he had to sit out for that dance. Frank took Alice, and passed Emily, with whom he'd been dancing, to Sirius.
Frank and Alice both danced well. Frank was a few inches taller than Harry, which made Alice look a little less awkwardly tall for a female. They both were extraordinarily graceful, and Harry found himself wistfully wishing that he were a better dancer. He couldn't believe he was jealous, and felt a twinge of guilt at the feeling.
Sirius wasn't a very good dancer, on the other hand, but he was making Emily laugh. Harry couldn't think of any time when he had seen a clumsier person on the dance floor. He smiled wryly.
All of the songs must have been as ancient as the old machine, because all of the students looked hopelessly lost. Some of the more elderly teachers knew the tunes and were slowly dancing in the center of the floor as best their rusted limbs would allow, but most of the students hung around the walls, drinking Wizard Punch and gossiping.
The festivities and dancing continued long into the night. Harry drank wine and champagne and punch and danced until his feet hurt too badly to stand on them. By then, the students were dropping off one by one to their bedrooms, wishing each other merry Christmas and happy holidays.
Finally, only a few members of the staff remained in the Great Hall. Alice looked dead tired. Clasping her hands above her arms and yawning, she mumbled, "I'm so very tired, Harry; I think I'll go get some sleep."
"Good idea," Harry said in agreement. "I think I'll wait awhile."
She smiled. "Merry Christmas, Harry." Turning, she walked out the doors.
Harry helped the remaining teachers to straighten up the room and at least return some of the order to it. Tomorrow, Alice could help with the rest. Finally, everyone was in bed except Harry.
For some reason, he just couldn't go to his bedroom. Something was compelling him to stay there. Weary yet restless, he walked into the hallway for a late night stroll.
The door suddenly burst open, and Harry was blasted with an icy stream of inclement wind. He turned to see who might be entering the castle at such an hour, and gawked at the woman who stood on the threshold.
She was wiry and thin, as though in illness; every nerve seemed wary and alert. Her hair was wild and askew, and her robes seemed musty and old. Her eyes were sunken deep into her pale face.
"What do you want?" Harry asked, stumbling backwards and taking hold of a nearby banister to steady himself.
She smiled sadly. "Harry, don't you know who I am?" she asked.
Something about that voice sounded so familiar . . .
"I'm Hermione."
by Hannah
Okay, so this story struggles b/c I haven't worked on it in like, two years, and it's never been proofread, so do forgive . . . anyway, check out my other story, under Originals, called Saraella, b/c in my mind it is far superior, and if you need anything e-mail me at fiddle_d_d@bolt.com. Thanks for reading! :0)
Chapter Thirteen ~ Holiday Festivities
Ron accidentally swept a few chess pieces off the board. A rather disgruntled knight picked up his arm, which had broken off, and hopped away to sulk under the bed.
Stunned beyond words, Harry managed to sputter, "Wh-wh-who? When? What House?"
"Who else but a Slytherin?" Lupin said, obviously in a bad temper. "We'd just arrived at the lake when one of the teachers came bustling over. Of course, we thought it odd that they hadn't left already, seeing as they'd planned on doing so well over an hour ago. Anyhow, she told us that one of the Slytherins was missing and that they were searching all over the town. She said that McGonagall wanted to hold a meeting immediately back at Hogwarts, and that all teachers were to attend. Apparently the professors have given up search in Hogsmeade, although residents are still to remain on the lookout. Meanwhile, all the students were being hustled back to the castle when I Apparated over here to tell you."
Harry cleared his throat. "Well, I don't know what we're waiting for, then. Let's go."
The three of them Disapparated together, and found themselves in the entrance hall to Hogwarts. "Same little spot that Alice led us that one time?" Ron asked quietly.
"Yeah, I guess. That seems to be where all of the 'top secret' teacher meetings are," Harry replied softly. They set off through the labyrinth of passageways and staircases that made up Hogwarts' castle.
Finally, they arrived at the rug that concealed the little cubbyhole that the faculty coveted for their private affairs.
Upon entering, the soft greenish glow that emanated from the walls illuminated all too well the terrified faces of the staff.
"—what to do," McGonagall was whispering hoarsely, her face a ghastly shade of white. Alice was already sitting there, patting McGonagall's hand in a very matronly way. She didn't look at all concerned. On the contrary, she looked quite angry.
"Don't let it bother you so," she spat bitterly. Everyone assembled turned to stare at her.
"Well, you'd know," Professor Flitwick admitted.
"Trust me, don't worry about it," Alice cajoled. "And I will beat the hell out of that kid once he comes back." Her eyes contained a strange murderous glint that sent chills down Harry's spine.
"No need to go that far, Alice, I'm sure," Frank said, looking nervous.
"Oh, I didn't mean for you to take it literally," Alice corrected flatly. "Although it would be nice . . . No, but that kid had better have a good excuse lined up."
"Hmm, interesting," Snape mused. "However, the more immediate problem is finding him. I know the kid, of course, seeing as he's in my House. Jason Flitcher. A very—problematic child. A sixth year, I believe? Anyhow, no matter, we must send out search parties, regardless of your doubts, Miss Oak. For if the papers ever got wind of our ignoring the disappearance of a student—regardless of your adamant objections as to the relevancy of sending out a search party, Alice—Hogwarts would never hear the end of it."
"Quite true," Harry agreed readily.
"Well then," McGonagall sighed, "I suppose we ought to partner up and begin the search? We need Heads of House to stay with the students, of course. The rest of you, choose a partner and state your intentions as to the whereabouts of the search. Heads of House, you may go." McGonagall dismissed them with a weary nod of her head.
Harry and Alice set off down the hallway together, headed back for the Gryffindor Common Room.
"So you're performing a play with your seventh years, are you?" Alice asked.
"Yes, we decided it would be a much more interesting way of learning about some of the important figures. We were originally just going to perform a play about one of them, but later we decided that we should role- play. I assigned each student a famous witch or wizard and asked them to write a short soliloquy on the spells and potions that that particular person was responsible for creating. We're performing it on Christmas Eve."
"How intriguing . . . my students are also going to do something for the school," Alice said.
"Really, what?" Harry questioned, quite interested in the subject.
"Well, seeing as my class is Defense Against the Dark Arts, I decided that they ought to get a little more one-on-one experience," she explained. "So I've arranged for a Quidditch match."
"A Quidditch match? I'm afraid I don't understand," Harry admitted, somewhat baffled.
"Well, not an ordinary Quidditch match," Alice said as they rounded a corner. "Teachers versus students, but with some . . . obstacles."
"Obstacles as in . . . Dark Arts obstacles?" Harry ventured.
"Yes. Some creatures, perhaps, a few curses . . . maybe a potion or two. And, of course, I was anxious to speak to you about it," Alice chirped, "because I wanted you to be the Seeker for the teachers' team."
"Sure, fine, fine," Harry agreed. He hadn't played Quidditch for far too long, and would welcome the opportunity gladly. "How about you?" he asked. "Are you going to play a position?"
She nodded emphatically. "Keeper," she said shortly. They had reached the Fat Lady. "Razalas," she muttered off-handedly, waiting for the door to swing open.
All the students were waiting for them. Crowded around the small portrait hole, they bombarded the two teachers with an unending stream of questions.
"Is he okay?"
"Have they found him?"
"Did Voldemort kill him?"
"Is he going to get into trouble?"
"Please, calm down, there's nothing to be excited about," Alice assured them as she leapt agilely from the opening. Harry followed her silently. The potion that Alice had administered was now beginning to show its effects. He felt extremely drowsy. Of course, Alice hadn't told him about that part of the medication. He supposed that she must've mixed up a double potion: one to reduce fever and increase one's sleepiness. Obviously, with her omnipotence, she would be aware of the fact that he snored.
The students all made disappointed discourse. "Nothing? Nothing at all?" seemed to be the mutual question.
"Nothing of any relevant interest has happened," Harry intoned, lowering himself wearily into one of the over-stuffed armchairs. Alice did likewise. Sighing heavily, she blatantly refused to answer the questions the students continued to throw at them. Eventually, they tired of their attempts to get their stone-faced professor to speak and scurried off to their dorms.
Alice and Harry just sat quietly for a while, Harry staring moodily into the fire, his eyelids steadily drooping more and more noticeably, and Alice gazing thoughtfully out the window, her eyes seeming to see past the snow that fairly blotted all else from view.
"We'll have to go back to Hogsmeade over the break," Alice said somewhat suddenly, startling Harry from his reverie. The fire crackled in the background.
"Yeah, I suppose so," he agreed.
"There's no way that we can have the break without some deviation from the norm," she continued.
"True, true," Harry allowed. He was looking into the fire once again. He could hardly keep his eyes open.
"Tired?" Alice inquired.
"Yes. What dratted sort of sleeping potion did you give me?"
"Sorry about that," she said, cringing. "It's just that you would've never gone to sleep had I not given it to you. That cooling potion also has the effect of rejuvenating the person on whom it was used to an extraordinary extent."
"Well, very well. I think it best that I go to bed. If I don't, I'm likely to fall asleep right here."
"Yes, good idea," Alice muttered absently, once again staring fixedly out the window.
"Yes, well, er—good night," Harry mumbled. He made his way out of the portrait hole.
For a few moments' time, Alice remained glued to her chair, gazing out into the darkness that swirled about Hogwarts. Finally, she gave a small shudder, as though chilled, and blinked several times. Another fit. Glad that no one could see her face paling and her eyes dilating, she scurried from the room and ran post-haste for her bedroom, her teeth bringing blood to her lower lip.
It was apparent to Harry that Alice had had another of her attacks the previous evening. Her eyes were once again framed by their purple bags, and he could just make out a small scab on her lower lip. Her hands didn't appear particularly steady as she shoveled sausage and eggs around her plate, hardly touching any of it.
"So, Harry, your play is tomorrow evening?" Sirius asked.
"Yeah, we have a dress rehearsal tonight," he replied. "But I'd rather you just skip the rehearsal and see the actual performance. It will be more enjoyable that way."
"Of course," Lupin said in agreement, lifting a forkful of scrambled eggs to his parted lips.
"And when is your . . . unique Quidditch Tournament going to be held, Alice?" Harry asked, fishing for some other topic of discussion.
Alice swallowed a mouthful of water and winced. She rasped, "Hopefully on Christmas Eve." She nearly interrupted herself with a sputtering cough.
"You have a cold!" Emily exclaimed with evident worry. "We shouldn't have gone off to the lake, with it being so cold and damp—"
"Nonsense." Alice interrupted impatiently, and continued by croaking, "It's still five days away. I'm sure that I will be well by that time. It's merely a sore throat."
Harry figured that that could very well be the case, but also knew that if it were anything more serious, Alice would hold it back from him. It was her nature.
The breakfast passed quite uneventfully, as did most of the afternoon. Alice was reading a mystery story, Harry was talking animatedly with Sirius and Lupin, and Malfoy, Frank, Emily, and Ron were holding a mini chess tournament.
"It's so wonderful to see you again, Sirius!" Lupin exclaimed. He was positively beaming.
"I know! There's so much to catch up on . . ."
Alice put down her book with a sigh. "Time passes far too quickly," she whispered in a crackly voice.
"You have no idea," Sirius agreed. And then added, "Well, I guess you do . . . my God, the whole concept of knowing everything is baffling."
Harry and Lupin nodded in unison. Ron and Frank looked up from their chess game. Apparently, they were the champions. Emily and Malfoy were watching them play. It was rather obvious that Frank was losing to Ron. He looked relieved at the opportunity to rest from the game.
"Let's do something else," Emily suggested.
"Like what? Alice is sick. She can't go outside. Unless she cures herself," Malfoy pointed out.
"You go ahead," she encouraged. "I rather enjoy being sick every now and then."
"Why?" Frank looked absolutely baffled.
"Because, it reminds me how lucky I am when I'm not ill." Alice smiled sweetly.
"All right . . . but really, that is just too weird. I don't really know what we can do, anyhow," Lupin said.
"Let's just get on some broomsticks and play around," Malfoy suggested. "I haven't been on mine since we graduated."
"Wonderful idea! Some of us will need practice for Alice's Quidditch match," Emily exclaimed.
The group made their way out to the field, where they played broomstick tag for several hours. Harry's stomach then gave a horrendous rumble.
"Must've missed dinner," Sirius said, glancing at a pocket watch that he produced from a pocket in his robe.
"Oh my!" Harry shouted, touching down on the snow-filled field. He began to run back toward the castle, his breath suspended in front of him in a miniature cloud.
"What is it?" Emily asked shrilly.
Glancing back over his shoulder just long enough to reply, Harry's voice was whipped about by the wind as he practically screamed, "I forgot about the dress rehearsal! I'll see you back in the common room! I'll—" The wind suddenly picked up gusto, and no one could hear anything more.
Frank reasonably assessed the situation. "Well, we may as well stop by the kitchen and see if we can pick up any leftover morsels. Then we can go back to the common room and keep Alice company. Harry will show up sooner or later."
McGonagall burst into Gryffindor's common room. She was panting for air as she leaned against the side of the portrait hole, and she looked very angry and agitated. All the students backed away in anticipation of one of her well-known lectures.
"Alice? Where's Alice?" she asked, when she was finally capable of breathing again.
"I don't know . . . in one of the girls' dorms, I think. She's not feeling well," one of the boys explained.
"Could someone go get her? It's urgent." Her face looked thunderous, and several girls started up the stairs at once to accomplish her biding. She did not look like she was to be reckoned with.
Alice slowly made her way down the stairs a minute or two later. Her face looked pale and pinched. Suddenly, for some reason, McGonagall felt a twinge of something. She shook it off. It couldn't be a premonition . . . she was just angry.
"Alice, come quickly. The little Slytherin who disappeared just . . . well, reappeared."
She smiled grimly. "I'll enjoy this," she rasped hoarsely.
"So will I," McGonagall agreed, assisting Alice through the portrait hole. "Of course, you were right. The only thing the child needs is a good thrashing."
"Yes, well . . . Jason Flitcher will never again do anything so foolish or cruel again."
McGonagall led Alice to the Staff Room, where a rather heavyset boy with wispy brown hair sat in the midst of most of the staff. Snape was looking particularly murderous. As they entered, Alice could hear him screaming, "Do you know what this means? I'm going to have to take points from our own House! How excruciatingly embarrassing! A hundred points from Slytherin, and detention for a month. No, don't you dare say a word. Not one word, do you hear me? Now here's McGonagall. Show her that we Slytherins have at least some principals."
"Doubtful, though it would be pleasant to see." McGonagall's face was very severe as she approached the boy. "Now where were you?"
"Really, I don't see why everyone is taking this whole thing so far." The boy rolled his pale green eyes dramatically. "I was only in the Forbidden Forest, looking around, and I got lost. I mean, it's not like Voldemort abducted me or anything."
"In these treacherous times, anything could happen!" McGonagall flung back, looking thoroughly murderous. Her chest was heaving as she fought to keep hold of what little was left of her temper.
"So I can't even take a short walk without everyone completely freaking out?" He looked skeptical.
Frank tried a more peaceful route. "The Forbidden Forest is . . . well, forbidden anyhow. You shouldn't have been there in the first place. What Professor, or Headmistress, McGonagall was trying to say was that with Voldemort running on the loose, we need to take every possible precaution."
McGonagall's eye twitched violently. "Detention! Suspension! Expulsion!"
"Now, now, Professor—" Flitwick said timidly, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder.
"No! This child is being—is being—"
"Dammit, listen!" Alice exclaimed in a harsh whisper. "The child wasn't right in wandering about in the Forbidden Forest. That is usually punishable by detention. Also, he's infuriated McGonagall, who is already under too much stress with the current situation. But suspension and expulsion are out of the question. If the Ministry is too scared to let the students go off on vacation, what makes you think they'll let you send the kid home for good? I say a week's worth of detentions cleaning bedpans in the school infirmary."
The student nodded in agreement. As long as he didn't have to face McGonagall's wrath, any arrangement, no matter how vile, would be fine!
"Settled." McGonagall slumped into a chair. "You're all dismissed. Except Alice, I'd like a word with you."
"Of course." Everyone filed from the room, except Alice and Harry. Harry hesitated; was McGonagall going to loose her temper at Alice? Alice saw him hesitate and gesticulated for him to leave with a sweep of her hand. He slowly closed the door and waited in the hallway, expecting to hear McGonagall's ranting at any moment. Oddly, he heard nothing.
After a few minutes, the door opened again. Alice and McGonagall walked out into the hall, and, smiling, McGonagall gave Alice a hug. "Thank you," she said as they pulled apart. "I don't know how I'm going to get through all of this!"
"You will," Alice croaked. "Don't worry about it. Everything will be fine."
She smiled and waved as they walked down opposite ends of the corridor. Harry popped out from behind a statue. "What was all of that about?" he demanded.
"She's under a lot of stress. She doesn't feel capable of handling this whole mess. She's certain Dumbledore could do it better."
"Oh."
They walked in silence to Alice's door. She said the password and the wall gaped before her. "Good night, Harry," she said, planting a quick kiss on his forehead.
"Good night," Harry replied. "Get well soon."
"I'm sure I will." She walked through the portal and the wall closed behind her. Harry walked back to his room and tried to fall asleep. But he was too worried about the play the next evening.
"Just remember to take deep breaths and speak clearly." Harry could hardly speak himself as he addressed his students. The performance was only thirty minutes away. "I know you'll do fine." As a matter of fact, he wasn't at all certain. He was extremely nervous. What if someone just wanted to mess it up, for the fun of it? Oh God, if I start thinking of everything that can go wrong I'll go crazy, he told himself.
The room was dark. Harry remembered the time in his fourth year that he had been in this exact same room, with the other school champions, nervously awaiting the announcement of the first task. The year that Voldemort returned. An involuntary shiver traced its way down his spine. He wouldn't think of that now.
Suddenly, through the open window, a small object whooshed into the room. Harry started, and then realized that it was only Hedwig. She dropped a small, folded piece of parchment into his lap, and then flew right back out again. Probably to hunt mice.
Ripping the golden seal apart (it was Alice's': AHO encompassed in a circle of stars), he read the short note appreciatively.
Good luck, Harry! I know you'll do just fine. Don't give the performance a second thought.
XO Alice
Smiling, Harry folded the letter and stuck it into one of the pockets in his black dress robes. If Alice said there was nothing to worry about, then he shouldn't trouble himself.
"Psst, Harry," Frank hissed, poking his head through the doorway. A narrow triangle of light cut a path through the room.
"Yeah?" he asked.
"Show time. Break a leg." With a smile, he backed out of the doorframe.
"All right, just remember everything we've done thus far," Harry reminded his students, throwing the door wide open.
A small sting quartet struck up a frenzy of music as the students filed out, garbed in various attire from a wide range of time periods. Ioma Bidmin Peroipritandtabaygode, Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor, and Albus Dumbledore were just a few of the better-known witches and wizards represented.
Alice had been correct. The play went from opening curtain to the curtain drop with nary a mishap. The audience, which consisted of every student and teacher, was wild with applause. Beaming with pride for his students, Harry ducked back into the back room, where the cast was gathered.
"Congratulations! You were all wonderful," Harry exclaimed in genuine excitement. "Great job! Oh, well done!"
They all went back out into the Great Hall for a final round of applause, and then joined their tables for a late celebratory supper. Alice grinned at Harry. "They were excellent," she informed him. It would seem that she had gotten over her cold, for her voice had returned to its usual flowing American alto.
"Thank you," Harry said, blushing slightly. All the other teachers rushed over to congratulate him as well.
Sighing contentedly that evening in bed, Harry's mind wandered to other things. Classes were over until after New Year's, which was still more than a week away. The next major event would be Alice's Quidditch game.
He hadn't been aware of the fact that she played Quidditch. He wondered if she was any good at the game. It must've been hard on her, to be at Hogwarts for four years and never have been allowed to participate in any such activities. She couldn't go to Hogsmeade, she couldn't attend Quidditch games, she couldn't participate in the feasts and celebrations . . .
Or did she? Maybe she'd had an invisibility cloak. Whole new horizons were visible with that possibility. He wondered if she'd ever noticed him. He dismissed that thought immediately. Of course she had. Not to be vain, but he was Harry Potter, one of the most renowned wizards of all time. Of course she'd noticed him.
But I shouldn't worry myself over what's to come tomorrow or the next day or the next, Harry firmly told himself. What is to come is to come, and I can't do a thing about it. With this final thought, he fell asleep.
Christmas Eve, like all the other chilly winter days, began dank and gray. Harry and Alice were eagerly discussing her Quidditch Tournament, set for three in the afternoon, over lunch.
"I hope it doesn't start snowing," Harry said with a frown.
"It won't," Alice assured him. "But it will be rather gusty. All the better, I think. A little challenge never hurt anyone."
"I hope everything goes well."
"It will," Alice chirped.
"Yeah, but I haven't played Quidditch for far too long." Harry was somewhat worried. He hoped he still knew how to hang on to his broom.
"You'll be fine," Alice cooed. "Don't worry! That's what's wrong with you—you worry too much! That's my job."
Sighing, Harry feigned a smile. "All right, all right. I think I'm going to go polish my Firebolt." Sirius had given Harry the broomstick in his third year at Hogwarts.
"I think I'll go get my broomstick ready, too," Alice agreed, pushing her hardly-touched plate away with a long white finger.
"All right. So we're meeting on the field at two?"
"Yes, I think that's sufficient time for a little explaining. I need to touch on some rule changes and the like, and we might want to just make sure everyone has a serviceable broomstick and so forth."
"All right . . . well, I'll see you later," Harry faltered while exiting the Great Hall. His stomach was flopping around within him; he wasn't at all sure he could hold onto that broomstick. He'd probably loose breakfast and lunch once he got up off the ground.
Harry was in his room, using the Broomstick Servicing Kit that Hermione had given him while they were still at Hogwarts, when a sudden gust of chilling wind swept suddenly through the opened window. The tattered curtains fluttered lazily on the small breeze as it whisked through the room. Shivering, he stood to close the window. As he pulled the pane downwards, a tiny piece of paper on the floor caught his eye. Frowning, he bent to fetch it, and slowly, carefully unfolded the parchment.
…meet me at seven in the Forbidden Forest. I will be waiting. No one must know of the meeting. Be there, or …
"I wonder what this is," Harry mused, but not really wondering at all. His mind was far too troubled to really take in this new development. He sat back down on the bed and began once again to absently polish the broom handle. He didn't even notice that he was using his robe to do so.
At precisely two o'clock he entered the Quidditch field, where he saw a small group of people huddled together. Alice was standing in front of them all, resplendent in a flowing golden robe. Harry also recognized his team to consist of Ron, Malfoy, Sirius, Snape, and Madam Hooch, who usually refereed the games. He hastened to join the others, just in time to hear Alice say quite warmly, "Well, in one hour the school will turn out to see our Quidditch match. Although all the usual Quidditch rules apply, there are several additions for this version. Firstly, if you can't defeat an obstacle, you must leave the game. Or, if, heaven forbid, an obstacle harms you in any way, you must also sit out of the game. Each team has two replacements. If more than two players are removed from your team, you have to keep playing with the number of players remaining. Any obstacle that comes in your path must be fought, no shirking duties. We're playing this game not only for entertainment, but for educational purposes as well. Any questions?"
Nobody said anything.
"Very well. Huddle with your team." The teachers broke off to one corner of the field, the students to another.
"What position is everyone playing?" Snape asked as soon as everyone was clustered into a tight circle. He brushed a wisp of his shortened locks from his eyes and looked intently at the six faces of his teammates.
"Well, Harry's Seeker," Alice informed, "I'm Keeper, Madam Hooch, Ron, and Sirius are the Chasers, and the Beaters are Malfoy and Snape. Got it?"
Everyone nodded, a gust of wind blowing a cloud of dusty white to veil their faces. Harry squinted, his eyes narrow in his cold-flushed cheeks.
"Is there a—plan?" Sirius ventured uncertainly.
"Well, basically, there're going to be a number of little obstacles. I'm going to tell you about each one." She smiled, her own cheeks unnaturally red from the chill. "Several rather dark creatures are going to be in the air with us, or positioned on hoops or Bludgers. Nothing that you haven't encountered before. Things that you learned about throughout your schooling at Hogwarts. Also, I'm having Frank and Emily shoot off a number of curses at sporadic intervals throughout the game. Once again, nothing you can't handle. Nothing extremely fancy or anything; I don't want to outdo the students. I have two seventh years, and then one student from each preceding year, except firsts, since they cannot have broomsticks. Therefore, they have varying levels of experience with handling the Dark Arts. For that reason, all the spells and creatures will be of various levels of difficulty as well. You may have to reach quite far back into your memories to remember a certain counter-curse or spell to ward off various creatures."
"What about you? Aren't you going to assist us?" Madam Hooch asked eagerly.
"Now that wouldn't be fair," Alice admonished. "My rule is that the Keepers can't help with the obstacles. The seventh year playing Keeper is thoroughly aware of the fact."
Everyone looked understandably disappointed, but none voiced their opinion. "Will we win?" Malfoy inquired sheepishly.
"I'm not telling," Alice answered with a devilish grin.
Harry pretended to pout. "Please, pretty please?"
"Maybe, maybe not" was the maddening response. A short silence ensued, and then Alice added, "The audience will be out any minute now."
Harry's nervousness had vanished temporarily, but now came back in full-force. It felt like his stomach was trying to leap up into his throat, only to be pulled down again by his intestines.
He stood, transfixed, watching in breath-stopping terror as the students poured out into the bleachers. He felt a hand on his shoulder. To his surprise, it was Snape.
"Don't worry so much. The kids will boo no matter what. They don't want the teachers to win, remember?"
Maybe that's what was making him so nervous. Even—especially—if he pulled off a spectacular performance, the kids would be upset.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Harry mumbled.
"Just don't let it get to you," Snape exclaimed, and did something quite frightening—he smiled.
"What's gotten into you?" Harry exclaimed with a laugh.
Snape shrugged. "I've decided that I shouldn't let old grudges ruin my life, with a little help from Alice. She talked some sense into me. Believe me, I wish someone had tried to do that years ago. I feel wonderful!" But then his face fell. "However, I don't think Remus or Sirius have yet forgiven me."
Harry glanced over at the two in question, both of whom were glaring coldly at him. Tugging absently at the collar of his red Quidditch robe, Harry mumbled, "Yeah, well, just give it a while. I think they'll get over it, sooner or later."
"Yeah, definitely later," Snape added dejectedly. "Oh well."
"Yes, well . . . good luck! Keep the Bludgers away."
"Will do." Snape walked away to talk to Madam Hooch. Harry, meanwhile, fought his way through several small snowdrifts to stand with Lupin and Sirius.
"You know," he said somewhat pointedly, "it isn't kind of you to treat Snape the way you are when he's trying to make amends."
"He started it," Lupin pointed out.
"You should finish it," Harry managed between clenched teeth. Not only was he angry, but also he was trying to keep his teeth from chattering.
"God, you sound like my mum. Don't do that!" Sirius exclaimed.
"Well really, you are both being ridiculously immature. It's fair depressing when your godson has to knock some sense into you."
"I agree. The 'godson' should just mind his own business," Lupin admonished. "Harry, you don't know everything about Snape."
"Neither do you," Harry retorted.
"Even that being the case, we know him a hellufa lot better than you do," Sirius reminded Harry.
"Yes, but Alice knows him as well as he knows himself, and she's the one who tried to get him to change. And it worked. And it would be a lot more wonderful if you would make an effort to forgive him a schoolboy grudge and make him realize that he's finally doing the right thing!" Harry's chest was heaving with rage as he stomped away.
"Wait, Harry!" Lupin cried. "Come back here. Harry! You were right. We're sorry."
Harry ignored them. Alice glided over to where he stood. "Ready? It's about time to mount broomsticks and begin the match."
"Yeah, I guess," Harry grumbled.
"All right then. Good luck!" She shot him such a cheery smile that he couldn't help but feel a bit better.
Frank was refereeing. "Teams, get into position," he said, his voice projected many times louder via a spell.
Harry and his team gathered together, and they all exchanged thumbs ups and smiles.
"Mount your broomsticks . . ." A shrill whistle chirruped through the crisp winter air. Harry found himself soaring up, up, upwards. He was flying, and it was glorious!
He shot like a bullet into the sky until he was far above the bleachers. From here he could see all the action, while keeping one eye on the constant alert for a fluttering bit of gold: the Snitch.
Obviously, the student Seeker thought he stood the best chance if he stayed on Harry's heels. He was just a foot below Harry's broomtail; if Harry felt the urge, he could've bent over and brushed the boy's head with his fingertips. But he wasn't worried. The Seeker was on a fairly obsolete broom compared to his Firebolt, the fastest broom model in wizarding technology.
To Harry's surprise, McGonagall was commentating. He had to admit that it wasn't quite as exciting as when the Weasley twins' friend Lee Jordan had done the announcements, but she was putting in a good effort.
"Teachers in possession of the Quaffle . . . oooh, nice Bludger work by Johnson . . . Quaffle stolen by Geoff of Gryffindor . . . an incredible repossession by Sirius Black, way to go! . . . Jennings, student Beater, hit by a well-aimed Bludger, great job, Severus . . . and the teachers score!"
It all happened in a matter of moments. Harry couldn't believe how fast the plays seemed to be occurring. He knew that they were, in reality, no faster than what they had always been, but he was out of practice. If the Snitch were to suddenly appear, and the student to begin the dive first . . . but he wouldn't think such morbid thoughts. He was going to win! He was jolted back to the game by a sudden shout from McGonagall.
"The first obstacle has been released into the arena. Nothing much, a quaddleratch, but only those with the training of sixth year and above will be able to defeat this little guy. It seems to be drawn by some sort of magical magnetism to the Quaffle . . . Ron Weasley currently in possession . . . oooh, close one! Better watch those sharp little teeth."
It did look rather foreboding. The little monster was about the size of a small file cabinet, half of which was its head. The jaws, which were agape, were filled with thousands and thousands of needle-sharp teeth at least an inch long. It had nearly gnashed Ron's fingers.
"How do you fight this bloody nuisance?" Harry heard Ron wail. He had dropped the Quaffle, which was now being sped across the field by a fifth year. She seemed absolutely terrified of the creature that was trailing on her heels.
"Adkins dodges a Bludger hit by Draco Malfoy and goes for the goal . . . nice save by Alice Oak! The score remains at 10-0, teachers leading. Someone had better deal with that quaddleratch, so the next obstacle can be introduced before somebody gets hurt."
McGonagall's timing was either right on the money or she should have joined Seers-R-Us, because one of the seventh years finally got an opportunity to shoot a streak of purple lightning at the small creature, which shriveled up into a small crusty ball that disintegrated into ash, dissolving the snow upon which it scattered.
The game progressed, so quickly that Harry was hard pressed to follow the Quaffle.
The teachers' lead increased steadily . . . twenty to nothing, thirty to nothing, forty to nothing, fifty to nothing, fifty to ten, sixty to ten, sixty to twenty, sixty to thirty, seventy to thirty, eighty to thirty . . .
Suddenly, a brilliant streak of golden and greenish light seemed to fill the air, and the movements of all the players seemed to become more relaxed. Harry tried to put his arm in front of him, and was amazed to see it seem to float ever-so-slowly into the position that he had wanted. Somehow, time had been slowed!
McGonagall's voice came over the loudspeaker in slow-mo. "And the Time-Teaser Curse has been activated by Professor Reede. If a seventh year or higher doesn't break this curse soon, we could be here for a very, very long time."
Harry tried to dart toward the other side of the stadium, but he crawled like a snail. He saw the ball gracefully fall into the hands of a student ten feet below him, and the student slowly floating toward their goalpost. Just as delayed, Madam Hooch drifted over toward the second year in possession. A hand shot with excruciatingly low speed toward the ball, as the student carefully dragged it from her suspended reach . . .
Professor Snape's voice blasted like a bass drum. "Kroo-loo-dee-ous . . ."
Madam Hooch's hand grasped the ball in a fraction of a second and she was speeding toward the teachers' goalpost.
The students all seemed relieved that the curse had been broken. Harry was, too. The game had been maddeningly uneventful when time was turned down several notches.
Madam Hooch had reached the goal and successfully thrown the ball into one of the rings. Ninety to thirty. Harry wanted the Snitch to come soon. His biggest fear right now was that he'd lost his touch, that he'd forgotten how to dive down onto the Snitch and pull out with that sparkling golden ball with its snowy wings clasped tightly in his palm.
The student in possession of the Quaffle let out a muffled scream and let it fall down, down, down onto the field below. Harry followed the ball with his eyes, or what had been the ball only moments before. It was now a whirling ball of fire, hissing ominously as it loomed ever closer to the snow-coated grass beneath him. With a loud crackle, it hit the snow. Suddenly, the whole ground was alight, and flames were soaring ever higher . . .
The children in the stands were in a panic. Harry could hear McGonagall's voice booming over the loud speaker: "No need for panic, stay calm. It's just the Drain Flame. All the fire does is suck the energy from those it touches. No cause for worry, just sit down."
The flames soared higher and higher, engulfing the other players. Finally, Harry felt them licking his own feet. Odd, the coldness he felt. Like all the heat had been pulled from him . . .
Harry hung limply from his broom, as though he were made of straw. His fingers felt ready to release their hold at any moment.
A soft mumbling reached Harry's ears from somewhere below him. The inferno of heat turned an eerie shade of black before falling like the tides into nothingness.
Harry finally mustered enough strength to gaze below him. He found that many of the other players were in the same fix as he. Snape was muttering something to himself, probably some sort of strengthening spell, but he was literally hanging onto the broom by his little finger. Alice was sprawled over one of the goalposts, looking thoroughly ill, and one of the students was lying spread-eagled in the snow.
"And someone is injured!" McGonagall managed to mumble into the microphone, slouched over in her seat in the stands. Everyone in the audience was draped over a chair, or lying on the pavement, or doubled over in their chair. Harry had a suspicion that the game would be called off. It was.
"It is my belief," McGonagall stated, "that this game should be postponed until further notice, seeing as players and fans alike are both without the energy to continue this match. Let's move inside. If we can," McGonagall added rather wryly.
Harry somehow maneuvered his broomstick to a window in Gryffindor Tower, and fell in a sprawling heap on the floor of one of the boys' dormitories. Groaning, he shifted into a somewhat less cramped position.
"How long will this damned spell last?" Harry muttered through his lax jaws. He didn't voice the opinion to anyone in particular, and certainly he didn't expect an answer. Therefore, he was quite surprised to hear a small voice reply to his question.
"Well, sir, I think the spell lasts only a short period of time, but don't take my word on it, sir."
He managed to turn his head to face the direction of the voice. Seated on top of one of the beds was a small house elf, with ears of an extremely disproportionate size and eyes like tennis balls.
"Well, what's your name?" Harry asked kindly.
"My name is Francis, sir, and I have heard wonderful things about you, Professor Potter." He gazed at Harry with crystalline orbs that shone deeply with admiration. "Dobby talks much of Harry Potter."
"Yes, how is Dobby? I haven't seen him for a while," Harry replied.
"Dobby is very well, sir. Dumbledore gave him a striped hat before he disappeared. He does love clothes, Dobby does." The house elf's gargantuan eyes brimmed with tears. "But Dumbledore is gone, sir, and poor Francis misses him muchly."
"Yes, we all miss Dumbledore, too," Harry said in sympathetic agreement. He did miss Dumbledore. Dumbledore was of the type of person with whom Harry truly felt he could talk. McGonagall was very kind, and made a great headmistress, but she just wasn't the same. Dumbledore's fatherly presence radiated a glowing kindness to which Harry felt drawn. Perhaps it was the lack of a father in his own life. Great, now he felt weepy, too.
"You know, Francis, I have to go downstairs and talk with some people who are probably wondering where I am. Besides, tomorrow is the Christmas feast. You should probably be helping prepare the feast in the kitchen."
"Right Harry Potter is, sir!" Francis exclaimed, bouncing upright upon the bed and giving a small salute as he dashed out into the hallway. Harry could hear the flopping of his mismatched shoes (apparently Dobby had created a new trend) as he bounded down the stairs. Harry followed somewhat more slowly. He was still feeling unsteady, but at least it was better than hardly being able to move at all.
He maneuvered through the numerous stone passageways and finally found his way into the large Great Hall, where it seemed everyone had congregated. Alice smiled at him as he wandered in, and Hagrid grinned and waved with a hand the size of a small floor rug.
Slowly, he made his way to the staff table, all the while trying to listen to the speech that McGonagall was in the middle of presenting to an uncannily silent audience of students.
"Usually, we are not accustomed to having such a large number of students on campus over the Christmas holiday. However, we've decided to treat the day like any other holiday: no lessons and a feast in the late afternoon." She had to wait a moment as the students cheered at the prospect of an additional Hogwarts feast. "Quiet down, quiet down. Lessons will not be present until New Years Day. However, on January second, you are to report to your classes as you would on any normal day. Until then, however, you may do as you wish, as long as you follow the school rules. The regulations are far more important now that danger is imminent. Is that clear?"
A vigorous nodding of heads followed.
"Very well. You are all dismissed to your common rooms until supper." A throng of students filed from the room, and the teachers stood to follow.
"Wait," McGonagall said somewhat sharply. "I want to talk with you all."
Harry lowered himself back into his seat, looking somewhat sheepish.
"Please, just keep an eye on the children. I know you might feel somewhat resentful of the fact that the students are stealing away one of our major times of relaxation, but—well, there isn't anything to be done about it." McGonagall looked extremely weary. "Just make sure they don't get into any trouble," she pleaded. "You may go."
Harry spent the rest of the evening recovering from the spell that had gone somewhat awry. As he crawled into bed, he could scarcely fall asleep, his excitement for Christmas was so great.
Of course, the day seemed like any other, but Harry knew differently. It may have seemed childish, to still be so excited about Christmas, but he loved awakening to the morning knowing that people actually cared.
He quickly pulled on some slippers, for the floor was unbearably cold compared to the warmth of his bed, and peered over the edge of his bed to see what gifts may await him.
He found, to his delight, nine. He tore the brightly colored paper from the packages greedily, ripping the bows to shreds. The first box was from Mrs. Weasley, and contained a sweater (gold) and a box of home-baked cakes and cookies in various wizarding flavors.
The next gift was wrapped in a satiny black paper and tied with a glittering golden ribbon. Harry knew immediately that it was from Alice. He had come to learn quite quickly that that particular color combination was her trademark. Upon unwrapping the present, he found an ancient leather book and a small, glowing box that radiated a soft purple sheen. Heart thumping, he read the title of the tome: Reading The Persona Imager. He could hardly believe it. But then he'd remembered her saying something about giving it to him. She was as good as her word. He gingerly placed it on a shelf beside his bed. He'd look at it more closely later.
The next was in dull brown postage paper, and rather sloppily tied. Harry slit the tape holding it together to find a small, dusty apron inside of a thoroughly unattractive shade of brown. Dobby. He should've guessed.
Another gift was wrapped in a blue and green plaid. When unwrapped, the box was found to contain a new set of herbs and plants necessary for potion making. A small card on the bow read:
To Harry
I know, I'm too practical.
Frank
It actually meant a lot to Harry. He had forgotten to finish his errands in Diagon Alley, and had been without proper herbs this whole time.
A tiny present wrapped in red and gold had been carefully placed on the desk. He found it to contain a very delicate-looking blown-glass figurine of a lion. Harry was somewhat startled when it began to strut about in his hand, but after over seven years spent in the wizarding world, where just about anything could happen, nothing surprised him much anymore. The tag told him it was from Ron. "Still a brave Gryffindor. Thanks for sticking by me," he read aloud. His throat thick with suppressed emotion, he placed it very carefully on the desk. It curled up under the rusted sconce, which was radiating a pleasant heat, and fell asleep.
A wild-looking paper of sparkling greens and brilliant magentas bespoke Emily in every way. The box was from Wizard's Fashion Depot. He was very reluctant to peer inside, and found a rather motley set of dress robes in cornflower blue. They were grotesque beyond description. Only have to wear them once, to show her that I do use them, he thought, depositing them upon the floor with discarded garments.
A small bag produced a pair of black socks that looked quite ordinary. Upon stripping off his slippers and placing them on his feet, however, Harry discovered that his toes were pleasantly toasty. Lupin had jotted him a quick note wishing him a merry holiday.
That left two: an over-sized package in rat-spangled paper (he guessed it was from Hagrid) and an unadorned white box that was taped shut. He picked up the smaller of the two and, unbinding the tape, shook the lid to open the package.
He found inside a small pair of gold-rimmed spectacles, accompanied by a tiny card that read:
Truth Spectacles
Wizards Are Us
Tired of being lied to? Sick of being the guy in the middle?
Need to know when people are saying what is real?
Don't hesitate to believe them now! Use
Truth spectacles
and you will know who you can trust!
In the case of any problems, contact us at
1800 Wizard Lane
London, England
98234
Harry read the smaller note aloud. "Sorry, Harry, but I couldn't find a single thing of use besides these. I thought that perhaps with the hard times so many seem to think still lay ahead of us, these may come in handy. I look forward to seeing you later today. Sirius." He smiled in spite of himself. Truth spectacles. What a ridiculous idea.
Harry finally fell upon the last of his presents. He couldn't drag this one onto the bed to open. He had to rear up on the very tips of his toes to reach the top to open the box. He was somewhat daunted to find the top speckled with holes.
He finally managed to rip the box open, and stood agape in the middle of the room when he found a small lizard-like thing staring at him. It was a frindlegroff, an uncommon sort of serpent that dwelled in caves and whose scales had unusual magical charms. And it ate dead grackliggens, rare goose-like creatures. Harry didn't even want to think how much that was going to cost him.
Just then he heard a knock upon his door. He bounded toward the door and flung it open to find all of his friends on the other side. "Merry Christmas!" they exclaimed.
"And to all of you as well!" he replied enthusiastically. "Thank you for your gifts."
They all nodded. "And thank you," they each said in return.
Harry had found each of them a present while in Hogsmeade. Alice he had given a small pair of crystal ball earrings which seemed to match her necklace fairly well; Ron had received a rat, just because Ron had given him one for his birthday; Frank had gotten a nice set of wizarding pajamas, in pine green silk; Sirius was fortunate enough to get a crystal ball paper weight (consult the forces while waiting for clients! The slogan had said); Lupin had received a set of fancy quill pens and finest quality parchment and ink; and had presented Emily with a new shade of lipstick called "Frosty Flower," which changed colors with one's body temperature.
"Let's go get some breakfast," Sirius urged. "I'm absolutely starving."
"Yes, let's," Emily agreed. "There won't be any lunch, since the feast is at five, and I sure am hungry. I would hate to miss breakfast and have to wait until then to eat."
Harry readily agreed and accompanied his companions to the Great Hall, where they gorged on pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon, and blood sausage. Alice ate a piece of toast. With currant jam.
After that, they found their way to Alice's room, where a roaring blaze was crackling contentedly in the hearth. They all curled up on the bed or in large armchairs that she produced.
They recounted the Christmases of past, and Harry listened eagerly as Lupin and Sirius talked about holidays from their days at Hogwarts, when his parents had been students.
"We always stayed for the break, just so we could be together," Lupin concluded. "Not like Sirius had any choice. He had been orphaned several years before. We always liked to keep him company. And Lily would stay, too. She was such a pretty girl, even then . . . had half the boys goggling over her, she did . . . Of course, the feasts were better back then. We had more food that you could imagine for the dozen or so people who stayed for the holiday. Plum puddings and goose and roasted duck and vegetable pasties . . . " And Lupin and Sirius would both smile fondly as they reminisced.
And Emily and Frank had some interesting tales about Beauxbatons, where they had both attended school.
"You'd wake up in the morning and the dormitory would be filled with lacy paper snowflakes, not one the same as any other," Emily recounted. "And then you'd make your way downstairs to a grand breakfast, and they had a tree four stories tall in the main gathering room, where everyone's presents were clustered. You'd find yours and open them with everyone else, and there was always so much laughter. I so enjoyed Christmas at school!"
Eventually, they decided to go outside for a stroll by the lake. But one thing led to another and the peaceful walk became a snowball war. Spattered with snow and shivering in the damp, they made their way back into the school and prepared for the feast.
Harry had never seen such grand festivities! The students had all donned dress robes for the dancing that was to follow, and the golden platters that graced the white linen tabletops twinkled invitingly in the soft glow of thousands of tiny candles. A large tree was in the front of the room, dripping with beautiful ornaments that only a wizard could create. The room was bursting with holiday spirit.
He sat beside Alice and Frank at the dinner table, and began to help himself to the multitudes of food that heaped the table. He began with some spiced rice, lobster tail, and fresh tossed salad, and from there went on to eat so much that he felt ready to explode. When the table produced dessert, he could barely swallow a serving of plum pudding and apple pie a la mode. Absolutely stuffed, he pushed the plate away, and it cleared itself of any remaining tidbits of food.
"That was delicious," Frank said.
"Yes, most certainly," Alice agreed.
"Well, I suppose once the students have finished feasting, we can begin the dancing," Harry concluded, gazing around at the other tables that filled the spacious hall. Most of the students were facing glimmering golden platters that were bereft of any morsel of food, but some were yet eating dessert.
When the last student had finally finished their food and their plate had cleaned itself, McGonagall stood up. "May the festivities begin!" she exclaimed. Alice wearily pointed her wand at the tables and they temporarily disappeared. The students took the cue and stood, and their chairs disappeared as well.
The staff was standing as well. A waltz began to play from an ancient phonograph in the corner of the room, and the students were beginning to dance. From the looks of it, many did not know classical dancing. Harry offered Alice a hand, and she accepted it with a smile.
She was stunningly attired in a figure-fitting purple satin gown that matched the color of her eyes. Her hair was pulled back and pilled on top of her head, and she was wearing the new earrings he had given her.
He led her in a slow waltz around the Great Hall, holding her close. He didn't want the moment to ever end, but the music stopped and a vivacious tango took its place. Harry wasn't familiar with the steps, so he had to sit out for that dance. Frank took Alice, and passed Emily, with whom he'd been dancing, to Sirius.
Frank and Alice both danced well. Frank was a few inches taller than Harry, which made Alice look a little less awkwardly tall for a female. They both were extraordinarily graceful, and Harry found himself wistfully wishing that he were a better dancer. He couldn't believe he was jealous, and felt a twinge of guilt at the feeling.
Sirius wasn't a very good dancer, on the other hand, but he was making Emily laugh. Harry couldn't think of any time when he had seen a clumsier person on the dance floor. He smiled wryly.
All of the songs must have been as ancient as the old machine, because all of the students looked hopelessly lost. Some of the more elderly teachers knew the tunes and were slowly dancing in the center of the floor as best their rusted limbs would allow, but most of the students hung around the walls, drinking Wizard Punch and gossiping.
The festivities and dancing continued long into the night. Harry drank wine and champagne and punch and danced until his feet hurt too badly to stand on them. By then, the students were dropping off one by one to their bedrooms, wishing each other merry Christmas and happy holidays.
Finally, only a few members of the staff remained in the Great Hall. Alice looked dead tired. Clasping her hands above her arms and yawning, she mumbled, "I'm so very tired, Harry; I think I'll go get some sleep."
"Good idea," Harry said in agreement. "I think I'll wait awhile."
She smiled. "Merry Christmas, Harry." Turning, she walked out the doors.
Harry helped the remaining teachers to straighten up the room and at least return some of the order to it. Tomorrow, Alice could help with the rest. Finally, everyone was in bed except Harry.
For some reason, he just couldn't go to his bedroom. Something was compelling him to stay there. Weary yet restless, he walked into the hallway for a late night stroll.
The door suddenly burst open, and Harry was blasted with an icy stream of inclement wind. He turned to see who might be entering the castle at such an hour, and gawked at the woman who stood on the threshold.
She was wiry and thin, as though in illness; every nerve seemed wary and alert. Her hair was wild and askew, and her robes seemed musty and old. Her eyes were sunken deep into her pale face.
"What do you want?" Harry asked, stumbling backwards and taking hold of a nearby banister to steady himself.
She smiled sadly. "Harry, don't you know who I am?" she asked.
Something about that voice sounded so familiar . . .
"I'm Hermione."