Author's Notes: Okay, this was too great not to include again. Especially since I'm feeling this way again right about now:
This is a true story. It happened to a friend of a friend of mine - Silver Phoenix. She had much homework to do on many a night. Her weekends were spent doing homework. It was quite sad, the life of this girl named Silver Phoenix. However, she had hope, for soon summer would come! And then our poor protagonist, Silver Phoenix, would have all the time in the world to dance and prance and swim and go out with her friends and have bonfires and burn her Math and Chemistry binders in said bonfires and write her crazy Harry Potter story on fanfic.net. And so, she waited and waited for summer to arrive. And yet it never did…and yet it never did…
This is a true story. It happened to a friend of a friend of mine - Silver Phoenix. Keep her in your hearts, dear people, and hope, like her, that summer arrives soon.
***
Albus Dumbledore limped down the corridors of his school, which were swarming with robed students. A thick bundle of parchment was clutched in the headmaster's wrinkled hand, and a rare expression of frustration was etched on his wizened face. Students passed him by, occasionally giving him a nod or a smile, but most were oblivious to their headmaster's presence. They all seemed to be occupied with eagerly chatting about the Christmas holidays, which were fast approaching.
Dumbledore sharply turned a corner and hobbled into a less crowded hallway; in fact, it was nearly vacant except for a sixth-year girl and seventh-year boy, who seemed to be very busy. A sharp look from Dumbledore and the girl gave a little squeak, then broke away from the extremely red seventh year. Both hastily scurried off to class. Shaking his head, Dumbledore murmured a password and entered the staff room, where a few teachers were milling around, also pre-occupied with cheerfully discussing Christmas holidays. A quick glance around and the headmaster had spotted the two people he was searching for - former students, who were now, by a curious twist of fate, the people he was trusting with his life. Professor Granger's eyes caught the headmaster's troubled blue ones. She grabbed Professor Weasley by the sleeve and she dragged her colleague out of the room.
"Something wrong?" Ron asked in alarm as the trio exited the staff room. Dumbledore glanced around the deserted hallway then held up the roll of parchment in his hand. It slowly unfurled to reveal a very long letter.
"This is a letter from Mrs. Pruscilla White - " Dumbledore said, unable to keep a note of weariness out of his voice, " -demanding to know why her son can't come home for the Christmas holidays. And I'm expecting to get a rather lengthy and angry-sounding letter from a Mrs. Ramone sometime in the near future as well."
"I thought you said they'd be out of the hospital ward in a few weeks!" Hermione exclaimed, a bit too loudly. Both Dumbledore and Ron gave her a look, and she quickly lowered her voice, looking sheepish. "We can't keep lying to everyone like this!" she hissed.
"I know!" Dumbledore snapped irritably. Both of his former students gave him a surprised look. The headmaster took a deep breath and slowly began to roll the letter back up. "I know. I thought we could...but I was mistaken…you need a certain herb for that potion which, unfortunately, happens to be extinct. The only thing we can do is wait for the Mandrakes..."
"But they won't be ready until spring!" Hermione whispered, eyes wide.
Dumbledore smiled knowingly, looking a bit more like his old self for a moment. "Science is a marvelous thing, Miss Granger. I don't suppose you've read Witch Weekly lately?"
Hermione looked as if she hadn't picked up a copy of Witch Weekly in her life. "I can't say I have."
Ron was staring at the headmaster queerly. "…And you have?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Dumbledore rummaged around in his robes and pulled out an ad, torn from a magazine. "Rapi-Gro," he said triumphantly. "A blessing for magical gardeners everywhere. This potion speeds plant growth up to three times as fast." He smiled briefly and put the advertisement away.
"So they'll be ready by the time Christmas holidays are over?" Hermione asked hopefully.
A frown suddenly creased Dumbledore's face, and the weary, tired look which
he'd been wearing for the last few months returned as quickly as it had
disappeared. "Mid-February. It's later than I had hoped."
"What're we going to do then?" Ron asked. "What will we tell people?"
"Their parents will have to be informed of the truth, I'm afraid," Dumbledore sighed. "And the staff and students…I do not know. However - "
"Excuse me, Ron," a polite voice said behind them. All three of them jumped and whirled around, hearts racing. A confused-looking Professor Willows was standing behind the trio, trying to get out of the staff room. The door had been blocked by Ron's back. "Is something wrong?" she asked in concern, looking at her two colleagues, and then at the headmaster.
"No, no," Dumbledore replied in the cheeriest voice he could muster. "Professor Willows, if I could have a word with you about the Mandrakes…you're staying at the castle for Christmas holidays, are you not?"
"Yes, Headmaster," she replied with a smile as Dumbledore motioned for her to follow him. The two walked down the hall, no doubt talking about the Rapi-Gro, which the Mandrakes would soon be subjected to.
"He's not well," Hermione commented sadly, not taking her eyes off Dumbledore until he had turned the corner and disappeared. "Did you see how he snapped? And he's trying so hard to pretend nothing's wrong…"
"As soon as we prove that Drago woman is behind this, I'm going to give her a swift kick in the - " Ron began angrily.
"Ron!"
"I apologize."
***
Professor Hermione Granger awakened slowly on Christmas morning. Smiling and stretching, she sat up, pale sunlight filtering into her room. The cold, frosty morning seemed less frigid with the arrival of soft, fat snowflakes that fell lazily past Hermione's bedroom window. A glance outside revealed the castle grounds in all their winter splendor, and the Quidditch field was hugged tightly by a blanket of snow. Hermione sighed contentedly and climbed out of bed, putting on a warm, fuzzy, yellow bathrobe over her white nightdress. Yawning again, she turned around towards her door.
Hermione fell backwards onto her bed as she was greeted by a grinning, freckled face. "Happy Christmas!" Ron exclaimed merrily, setting a Santa Claus hat on his flaming hair. He made sure it was on a jaunty angle before thrusting a present into Hermione's hands, beaming.
Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to get words out. "Ron!" she finally spluttered. "This…this is my bedroom!"
"I know," Ron replied, waggling his eyebrows mischievously.
"And…and…" Hermione sounded scandalized. "I'm in my pajamas!"
"Why, so you are," Ron responded innocently before his face split into a devilish grin again.
Hermione stared at Ron, her mouth agape. "I…you…can't believe…" she suddenly burst into laughter, shaking her head. She started pushing Ron towards the door. "Oh, get out of my room you…" she paused to think of an appropriate insult.
"Handsome devil?" Ron suggested helpfully, his hat toppling off his head.
Hermione shook her head again, still laughing. "Go!" she insisted, pushing him out the door. She hastily shut it behind him.
"And a Happy Christmas to you too!" Ron called cheerfully from the hall, his voice muffled by the heavy oak door.
Hermione rolled her eyes, though she couldn't stop a grin from slowly spreading across her face. She threw open her door, chucked Ron's hat at him, and closed it. With a small chuckle, she leaned back against the door, just then noticing the messily wrapped present in her hands.
"Oh, this should be rich," Hermione murmured to herself, tearing off the wrapping paper. A long, rectangular box greeted her. Wrinkling her forehead, Hermione slowly opened it. She gasped softly in surprise.
It was a very familiar, delicate, silver necklace. Ron had given it to her for Christmas in their - Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, thinking back - sixth year. She remembered Harry teasing Ron about it; he kept pointing out that Ron had only gotten him a few cheap jokes from Zonko's, and had spent all his Christmas money on Hermione. Stubbornly, Hermione had insisted Ron take it back, determinedly stating that she couldn't accept such an expensive gift. She remembered that the hot-tempered boy had seemed angry at the time because of it. She now realized that he had probably been more hurt than angry; Ron must have thought that the rejected gift also meant rejection of a different sort from her.
She pulled the dainty chain out of the box, sighing as it slowly revolved, reflecting the sunlight that streamed through her window. Hastily, Hermione put the necklace back in the box and shoved it into a drawer in her nightstand.
Shaking her head, Hermione headed for the washroom to brush her teeth. She nearly tripped over another brightly coloured package, which had been lying at the foot of her bed. A glimpse of the card told Hermione it was from Charles.
Well, at least I know he's not still angry with me, Hermione thought wryly as she removed diamond earrings and a bracelet to match from a mess of wrapping paper and jewelry boxes. For some reason, she felt slightly relieved at first that Charles wasn't angry with her any longer. This feeling of muddled euphoria was soon overridden by mild panic as she realized that, in such case, a diamond ring could be next. Feeling frustrated about her conflicting emotions, Hermione glanced back at the drawer where she'd stuffed Ron's gift. His necklace paled in comparison to Charles' dazzling presents. Still, moments later, Charles' Christmas present had joined Ron's in the drawer.
When will men learn that jewelry is both over-priced and impractical? Hermione scoffed to herself. They should've gotten me a nice book.
***
"So I told the kid, 'don't even think about it', and the kid goes, 'what are you gonna do, turn me into a toad?' He's a Muggle-born, right, so he's kind of slow when it comes to turning people into toads and such…no offense…"
"None taken," Hermione responded wryly.
Ron was happily recounting a recent lesson to Hermione as they walked down the nearly empty corridors of Hogwarts castle. Christmas meant that most students had gone home to indulge in presents and turkey and pudding and such, while a few select members of the staff were left to tend to an empty, extremely chilly castle. Ron's chatter bounced off the cold stone walls, echoing through the vacant school. With nearly all of the students and half of her co-workers gone, and Charles busy with the yearly Christmas frenzy at the Ministry, Hermione had taken to spending time with Ron quite a lot in the past two weeks. They'd both spent a good portion of their free time literally tearing the library apart haphazardly, but to no avail – they still had no information on Alonso Drago. However, some information on Gerald Dumfart had turned up. It turned out that, sadly, he had passed away. Ron had pretended to mourn for days.
On a more serious note, Hermione still hadn't said anything about Ron's gift, and so far, Ron was feigning obliviousness to it.
"So I give him this glare, and he starts looking scared, and then…" Ron paused for dramatic effect, and then stopped in front of a massive oak door leading to the grounds. He leaned against it, looking superior. "I turned him into a toad."
"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. "You can't just go around turning students into toads!"
"I changed him back…"
Hermione made disapproving noises and shook her head.
Ron hung his head in pretend shame. "Forgive me."
Tucking a strand of curly brown hair behind her ear, Hermione laughed and grinned at Ron. "You're forgiv - "
A shrill, piercing scream, coming from outside, abruptly interrupted her. Hermione and Ron both froze, exchanging glances. As if they both shared a brain, the two flung open the door and started running towards the source of the blood-curdling noise.
The pair burst out onto the snow-covered grounds, robes billowing out behind them and snow pelting down on them. They ran for the greenhouses, where the scream had come from. The only greenhouse that was used during the winter months was number two, so naturally the two professors ran through the snowstorm to that one. Panting, Hermione flung open the greenhouse doors, her breath freezing in the ice cold air. She and Ron ran into the warmth of the greenhouse, cold air rushing in after them, and headed for the sound of sobbing, which had replaced the screams. They both slowed to a stop as they came upon a gruesome sight.
Before them were a dozen potted Mandrakes, all brutally and disgustingly slashed apart. A thick, green liquid was slowly oozing out of the dead Mandrakes, splashing onto the floor from their wounds.
Hermione stood frozen in shock and disgust, trying to mentally register the scene before her. Glancing to the right, Ron discovered the source of the sobbing. A shaken Professor Willows had her tightly wrapped around herself. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her face was pale.
"Who…who would…" she managed to say hoarsely before succumbing to dry sobs yet again. The tall, willowy professor started rocking back and forth. Ron quickly went over to make sure that she was all right. Professor Willows was often far too sensitive for her own good, and her plants meant a lot to her. To brutally destroy her Mandrakes was almost as good as brutally attacking Professor Willows herself. The scene did look as if someone was trying to convey a vicious message to Kathleen Willows. But Hermione knew better. Someone had destroyed the Mandrakes for another reason.
Shakily, she crossed over to Professor Willows and put an arm around her upset colleague, while Ron stepped away. He folded his arms and surveyed the scene, shaking his head.
"Someone really doesn't want those kids to wake up," he murmured.
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Gotta love those cliffhangers. Good for the body, good for the soul.