Huffily Puffily

by quizzlers

Lucy was brought to Wool's Orphanage with no last name, and this suits her just fine. As she befriends the Boy-Who-Lived, she can't seem to kick her unfortunate habit of meeting the Dark Lord— and what's worse, living to tell the tale.

62. Pizza Hut Strut

It was a fine morning for a little holiday mischief.

One would think that after such an eventful Christmas Eve spent in disguise, the youngest of the tree troublemakers would have been exhausted the next morning. Perhaps she might have slept a little more than usual or at least felt the weariness weighing on her bones. But before the sun had even made its way over the pure white horizon, Lucy Rochester's eyes snapped open, brown eyes scanning over the common room.

Anthony was fast asleep on one of the couches, his breathing slow and steady. Neither of the pair bothered changing out of their disguises from the day before, and there was something amusing about seeing Anthony Rickett— notorious for his messy hair and haphazard appearance— fast asleep on the sofa in formal wear, his hair still combed neatly back. She only half-envied his slumber. She was still tired, but her mind was awake, restless as most children were on Christmas day.

She had never been fond of the holiday before, in her distant past at Wool's Orphanage. Mrs. Cole tried to work with what she had, but even she grew tired of stringing up Christmas lights and poorly decorated trees, especially as the children grew older. None of the children liked it, either. Jennifer whined and complained every time they had to decorate the trees, and that was one of the rare occasions Lucy had to agree with her. The decorations were a sorry attempt at shielding a fact that was undeniably clear to all the orphans: they had nothing to celebrate for. There would not be any presents under the tree, nor cookies set out for 'Santa Claus.'

But it was very hard to dislike a Christmas spent at Hogwarts. The castle was always beautifully decorated, along with each of the common rooms. She'd never caught the House Elves stringing up ornaments but she knew they must have enjoyed the process. Their tree in the middle of the room, Cedric Jr, was nicely decorated with a glowing magical star at the top. She was surprised to see that there was a stack of presents underneath the tree. Normally she awoke with them at the foot of her bed. It was yet another mystery of Hogwarts she would have to look into, how the presents seemingly appeared wherever they slept.

The presents were tempting, but it was too early to open them and she'd have to wait for Anthony, anyway. She had a different mission in mind for the next few hours. Silently, she slipped away from the couch and headed toward her dormitory. Only after a few steps, she realized she didn't need to tiptoe at all. Anthony was dead to the world at the moment and she had a feeling nothing short of a cannon blast would wake him up.

She quickly showered and changed into more appropriate clothes for her task at hand— which was, to say, her most subtle clothing. She tended to wear bright colors like yellow and white most of the time but she wasn't keen on having Snape spy her from a mile away, and so she reluctantly picked out the dark green jumper that Tom had charmed out of spite. Lucy was tempted to feel sad about that, but she pushed those feelings out of her mind— she was on a mission.

In her attempts to make a cover story for herself and Anthony, she told Harry they were working on a grand prank for Christmas morning. Looking back on it she should have just disappeared mysteriously into the night instead of committing to a prank, but she was nothing if not dramatic. So what she had to pull a huge prank in the dead of night with a faulty wand? If she could somehow set a basilisk on students without getting caught, she could manage a simple prank!

Lucy realized about halfway toward the Great Hall that she ought to have brought the Invisibility Cloak, but she refused to go back and fetch it; and it seemed that she would not need it anyway. You'd think that since Sirius Black broke into the castle on Halloween, the professors might have been a little more willing to sacrifice their Christmas holiday by patrolling the castle. But she didn't run into or catch a glimpse of a single professors, not even Mrs. Norris. She questioned the morals of her teachers, but she couldn't complain too much. If it allowed her to go about her business without any trouble, mass murderers were welcomed!

"Well... maybe not mass murderers," Lucy muttered to herself

At that moment a familiar cockney voice hissed from right behind her. "What the hell are you talkin' about, Rochester?"

First of all, Lucy was not expecting a voice to appear out of nowhere, and so she jumped about a foot in the air, letting out the least dignified yelp she'd uttered in her entire life. Second of all, when the hell did Ford start calling her Rochester?

She stopped in her path and looked down at the snake. He was coiled up, as if ready to strike her at any given moment. Her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Alright, what's with the attitude, mister?" she demanded.

He struck and bit her shoe. He didn't pierce through, obviously, but his point was made, and she still stepped back. "You left me alone!" he hissed, "For an entire day!"

Lucy gaped, less because Ford had bitten her and more because he was complaining about her absence. She dedicated so much time to her pets that it was ridiculous at times. Ford had his heating tank underneath her bed— one that she was able to improve with magic, now that she was back at Hogwarts— and she was now making loads of trips to the kitchens, not to mention he was able to leave through the pipes at any time and catch mice and rats. She was working on a habitat for Tom Marvotoad Riddle but in the meantime the toad was pleased enough with her bowl of water and the many dried insects (from Lucy's potion ingredients) at her disposal. Grayble was a mysterious case because while the cat liked to eat, he seemingly didn't need to, and Lucy was certain he had never once used his litter box. Her owl, Snape, didn't sleep at the owelry with the other owls most of the time and instead used her headboard as a sound resting spot.

It was a miracle her dormmates hadn't complained about Lucy Rochester's slowly progressing zoo, but then again, they'd probably let her get away with murder if it got them back into her good graces.

Ford let out an impatient grunt, bringing Lucy back to the matter at hand. She held back a huff and bent down to pick him up. He squirmed and tried to get away but she ignored him and continued on her way to the Great Hall.

"I did not leave you alone," she scoffed. "I left you plenty of food, and didn't I say you could visit Harry if you got lonely? He's a Parselmouth, too!"

"I don't like him," Ford declared, twitching his tail irritably. "He holds me all wrong, and he's terrible for conversation."

She smiled and pet his head, running her hand down the length of his tail. "Well, nobody is a better conversationalist than you, Ford," she reminded him. His glare let up ever so slightly. "And nobody's as handsome, or smart, or scary..." His tail twitched, this time happily. "And nobody's fangs are as sharp and venomous, and nobody's growing as fast as you..."

She wasn't surprised when his demeanor changed entirely. Snakes, she learned, were prideful creatures, and one could never compliment them too much. He slithered up her arm and around her shoulders, bumping her cheek with his nose. "I guess you're not such a bad master after all..." he admitted, as if it grieved him to say so. Lucy's lips quirked upward. "Now where are we going, boss?"

She had arrived at the doors to the Great Hall, and she wasn't surprised to find them locked. A simple wave of her wand and a muttered spell fixed that and she made sure to close and lock the door behind her. The tables were nowhere to be seen, and for once the professors' table was completely empty.

"We," she began, eyes sparkling, "are going to cause a little mischief."

In total, her little excursion lasted about an hour. Her pride refused to put forward a lackluster prank, and yet she didn't want to disrupt Christmas Day as there were so few students who remained behind this year. She settled for an option that was half annoying, half pleasant. Ford watched, bemused as she wandered about the vast room, casting spells all around. Occasionally her wand would stop working and instead spit out sparks. She found it annoying and a little worrying, as always, but today she was stubborn, and she summoned all of her will in order to override whatever quarrel her wand seemed to hold for her.

She left the Great Hall with a certain bounce to her step. She would not spoil the prank by thinking about it too much— she was fortunate she managed to leave without setting it off on accident— but she was certain Gilderoy Lockhart would have been very proud of her.

Anthony was still asleep when she returned to the common room, except he moved from sleeping on the couch to being slumped halfway off it, face pressed to the ground. She snorted, wishing she had a camera to capture this fine moment. Unfortunately she did not, so she did the next best thing.

"Ford, scare," she whispered.

Quick as a bullet, Ford shot toward Anthony and bared his fangs. He knew not to really bite him, but the sound made Anthony's eyes snap open. He positively shrieked at the sight of a seemingly furious serpent in front of him and fell off the sofa completely, scrambling to find his wand. After a few moments he registered the laughing third year in front of him. He growled, lunging forward himself.

"Think you're funny, do you?!" he demanded.

Lucy smiled sweetly and waved her hand; a nearby pillow flew forward and hit him in the face. "Have a little Christmas Spirit, mum," she said, walking right by him as if he wasn't about to pummel her at any given moment. She picked Ford up again and examined her snake. She fixed Anthony with a furious look. "You yelled at my boy!"

Anthony opened his mouth to retort, then closed his eyes and sighed deeply. She heard him muttering, "Christmas spirit, Christmas spirit, don't hex my child, Christmas Spirit..." After a long pause he opened his eyes with a calm smile on his face.

Then he jumped at her, tackling her to the couch. "Christmas spirit my arse, you're going down, gremlin!"

Ford made an irritated hiss and shot out of harm's way. Lucy didn't dwell on her pet's treachery and instead narrowed her eyes at Anthony, concentrating hard. A moment later he flew off her and landed safely at the other end of the couch. She sniffed, sitting up and folding her hands in her lap.

"If you're done causing a scene, I'd like to celebrate Christmas," she said, throwing him a haughty look. Anthony was ready to burst at any second so she quickly dropped the act and settled into the couch.

She was pleasantly surprised that Anthony decided to stay behind, even if it was to help Sirius Black. Last Christmas had been sort of lonely when she had the entire common room to herself, even with her diary's presence. She shuddered to think how lonely this Christmas would have been if it was just herself and an empty dormitory, with nobody around to help her pass the time. She would've been bored out of her mind. (And when she was bored she tended to set things on fire, and something told her that the professors would not understand that excuse.)

"I do hope you're finished tormenting your one and only friend," Anthony sniffed. He sat up and jerked his head to the side quickly, cracking his neck. Lucy pulled a face at the sound and he snickered at her grossed-out expression. He fumbled around for his wand, eventually finding it under the couch, and then flicked it: at once, the dimly lit common room was filled with floating yellow and white orbs. "That's better," Anthony grinned.

Despite how many powerful spells she'd seen and read about, she was always impressed by the older boy's casual display of magic. She didn't bother hiding her awe as she examined all of the floating lights. "You've got to tell me all of your spells sooner or later."

"Perhaps," he said in a mysterious tone. He shot her a wink. "But perhaps not. Presents are under the tree," he said, pointing over at them. He collapsed back onto the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. He glanced at Lucy and said, in a tone better reserved for a king of nations, "Bring them to me."

She slid off the couch, bowing deeply. "Of course, your highness."

"You are a loyal subject," he nodded.

She did, of course, hand Anthony all of his presents first, and he set them in a pile next to him. She couldn't help but notice all the names, a lot of which Lucy had never heard of. The Vance Family, Marcus Fenwick, Hestia Jones, and The Dearborn Family. She knew most wizarding families knew one another, but she didn't know they were quite so connected. She wondered if she'd ever know as many families as Anthony when she was all grown up. How nice might it be to send a present, signing it as The Rochester Family?

She was just about to hand him a present from Ross Meadowes, she was reaching for it, when a golden tag just behind the tree caught her eye. Her brow furrowed, suspicion growing as she registered the strangely broomstick shaped item.

"Anthony..." Lucy began, her tone promising death.

She heard loud, maniacal laughter from behind her.

Lucy wanted to scream when she read the tag fully.

TO MY LOVELY DAUGHTER FROM YOUR SEXY MOTHER!

"ANTHONY!"

"Sing all you want, Canary, that broomstick is yours!" Anthony cackled. "Open it up!" She turned around and threw him a stinging glare, but he was pleased as punch, his arms resting behind his head. He pointed a finger at her. "NOW!" he boomed.

"You're the worst," she hissed as she pulled the package over to her. She opened it, wishing that maybe it wasn't an expensive and awesome gift like she thought, and maybe it was a cloud of smoke or something, and they'd both laugh about it and she could go about her life without being the reason he spent so much money. But at the sight of the Nimbus 2001, she couldn't deny that she felt an odd rush of excitement. She'd never had such an expensive item before in her life. "Anthony, you're the beeeeessssttt!" she groaned, like it pained her.

"I know!" he said, beaming. "But you deserve it! Now let's see what my darling young daughter has got her moth—ER FUCKER!" He stared at the open parcel, and this time it was Lucy's turn to wear an evil grin. "LUCY!" he shouted.

She turned with a puzzled expression. "What?" she said innocently.

But she knew exactly why he was so outraged. In his hands, he held the newest magical camera on the market. She knew how much he enjoyed mysteries, and he'd been hinting that he might pursue a real private detective career when he graduated Hogwarts. He loved piecing together clues and helping people, and having evidence to back up his conclusions was one of his strongest beliefs. The camera had certainly been the most expensive gift she bought this Christmas season, but after everything, he deserved it.

Lucy had gone a bit mad with Christmas shopping. If Mallory knew how much of her savings she burnt through, the woman would first smother her in her sleep and then strangle her for extra measure. But she was a Rochester! She could spend as much money as she wanted! If it came down to it, she could just rob Lucius Malfoy or something.

...That was a tempting idea.

But, she'd have to hold off on that, since she was trying to be 'nicer to Draco', ugh. She stole a Pureblood catalogue from him a while ago and used it to order fancy Pureblood sweets for him, Blaise, Theodore, and Daphne. She made Malfoy a card, too, and pasted photos of muggle inventions inside it. (And she might have sent him muggle pens as well, but Professor Snape didn't need to know that.)

"You're a terrible child and I'd die for you," Anthony stated. He suddenly smirked and said, "Hey, look, Snape's on fire!"

"AGAIN?!" Lucy turned around with a hopeful smile, only to have all her dreams crushed when a flash went off in her face. Anthony burst out laughing at her crestfallen face. The camera immediately printed the photo, and he shook it once. Then he presented Lucy with the photo of her turning around with a maniacal grin on her face.

"This one's going on the wizard fridge," he declared.

"There are some things you just don't joke about," Lucy grumbled. The sight of Snape on fire would have made this the best Christmas in history.

"Don't worry, cub, I'm sure we'll find some way to set Snape on fire before the school year ends!" he assured her. He then smirked and added, "I bet Sirius will be on board with that plan."

Reason #1002 why Sirius Black was the coolest wizard Lucy had ever met: he shared her love of annoying Severus Snape.

Even if he had murdered thirteen muggles, she might forgive him if only because he once pranked Snape at every turn.

Now that they were finished yelling at each other for buying nice gifts, they both moved on to their other ones. Lucy was surprised to see her pile had grown since last year even though she had lost plenty of her friends. She had her usual Weasley sweater— this time a nice shade of green— and shortcake from Mrs. Weasley, but what really surprised her was that the Slytherins had sent her something. She wondered, briefly, if it was pity, but she pushed that thought away quickly. She at least knew that Blaise wouldn't send anything out of pity, it wasn't in his personality— he'd given her a set of wand polish.

Daphne's gifts were definitely picked out in an attempt to bring her closer to Pureblood culture. After disparaging her old muggle gloves for all of last year, she finally sent her a set of Witch Gloves, as Lucy had dubbed them (they were silky and long, and definitely more fancy than any clothes she'd ever picked out), and then a book on 'A Young Witch's Guide to Etiquette' which she was certain translated to How To Act Like a Pureblood. In any case, Lucy was interested in learning.

Theodore sent a book on the wizarding government with a note that read: for when you inevitably get arrested. Lucy was not even slightly offended, and she would go as far as to say that Theodore had a point there.

Malfoy was thinking along the same lines as her. They knew each other for long enough to merit sending a gift but weren't friendly enough to get anything personalized. He sent her a bundle of licorice wands and a note that read: Happy Yule, I guess.

She had to laugh when she saw Mallory's gift. She'd sent her a pair of nice winter boots and a set of formal and winter robes. The woman was slowly trying to replace her muggle clothes with wizarding ones. Lucy couldn't count the number of times she'd slowly lost her mind about sending her into Knockturn Alley in muggle wear.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed, dumbass? They hate muggleborns!" she'd hiss. But Lucy would argue that part of the thrill of going to Knockturn Alley was the possibility of dueling her way out.

There were more presents, sweets from Maxine and Heidi, and a Quidditch book from Herbert. Daisy sent her a photo frame with a picture of their entire Quidditch team inside. She attached her telephone number with her card, telling Lucy she was going to have a phone in her apartment at Diagon Alley no matter what. Lucy was so busy looking over the photo frame that she almost missed the last present under the tree.

It was wrapped with old copies of the Daily Prophet. She had a sneaking suspicion who it was from before she even opened it. She tore the paper off, and her jaw dropped as she lay her eyes on a wicked leather jacket, seemingly homemade with patches sewn into it and messily stitched tears in some places. A wrinkled piece of parchment was pinned to the front of it, and she held it up to read it.

Canary—

I made this jacket myself when I was a rebellious teen. It, too, has faced down Voldemort and looked completely wicked all the while. I leave its next set of adventures with you in hopes that you follow the path of a Marauder.

If you wear it around Hogwarts, I bet it'll confuse all the professors. Especially Snape. Please mess with old Snivellus at least once with it.

Happy Christmas, Maraudette!

-Bloodhound

PS: Check the pockets.

Lucy's smile took up her entire face. She was almost scared to move the jacket too much on the off chance it disappeared into a puff of smoke— but sure enough it was there, in her hands, from her newest friend Sirius Black. He was so cool! If she could grow up to be half as awesome as him, she'd consider her life well spent.

As instructed, she went through the pockets. Each pocket was magically extended and within them, she found the item he alluded to. There was a cool as hell swiss army knife. She flicked it open, and she saw not only muggle tools, but enchanted ones as well. A note detailed all their uses: one of them was a key that claimed to unlock any door. Scissors that could cut through any material with ease. A small torch. A glowing rod that was as bright as Lumos. A ballpoint pen that never ran out of ink. And the most amazing aspect, in Lucy's opinion, was that the knife was not crowded at all; each tool came out as she intended them.

"Another knife?" Anthony groaned, looking torn between disapproval and excitement. "You've got a Lestrange knife and now a Black knife."

"And a Macnair knife," Lucy added, remembering how Mallory stole one from him on one of their adventures.

"Gross!" He wrinkled up his nose. "What do you need that for?"

"Trophies," she shrugged. Macnair was scum but he had good taste in knives. "Might as well get all of the Sacred 28's, am I right?"

Anthony snorted. "Good luck with that, cub. I'm fairly certain the Gaunts have all died out by now."

"Actually, Anthony, you'll find that my old pal Voldy is out there somewhere, and I will steal a knife from him," Lucy sniffed. Anthony laughed, but she knew in her heart she was not joking. It wouldn't be thathard to steal a knife from him, would it? If he went through all the trouble to ensure she had his diary, chances were she was in the back of his mind.

Lucy immediately pulled on the leather jacket. It was huge on her, of course, but it was warmer than she expected. She felt wicked in it despite how ridiculous it might look. She took Sirius's note to heart— she wouldgo on adventures with the jacket, but she wasn't sure about parading it around for all the professors to see. For now, she felt that Sirius needed to stay hidden.

She'd annoy Snape while wearing the jacket, but only when she was certain it was safe. It was Remus Lupin she was concerned about. He'd been one of Sirius's closest friends when they all attended Hogwarts, not only that, he knew Sirius's animagus form. Her own obliviousness had saved her the last time Professor Lupin laid eyes on her dog, but she wasn't about to push her luck. For now, she had to tread carefully. However, she was beginning to think of ways to bring Lupin in on their plan to apprehend Wormtail. His position as a teacher was valuable, but aside from that, he deserved to know as well.

Remus was one of the people she hoped to convince, and Harry was definitely another. Lucy once again found herself in the position where she was keeping a secret from her best mate— and she was determined this year would end differently. Once she gathered enough evidence, she'd show it all to Harry and convince him, even if it took hours, even if he grew furious at her.

Anthony's loud gasp drew her out of her musings. "He did not!" Lucy looked over at him, and he held up a silver key. "That man bought me a motorbike," he said, incredulous. "He bought me a motorbike!"

Lucy's eyes widened. "That's awesome," she uttered.

"Not awesome!" Anthony said frantically. "That must've cost a fortune, he's insane!"

"He's currently the richest man in Wizarding Britain," Lucy said smugly, echoing Anthony's words from yesterday. "But yes, I'd have to agree he's insane. But aren't we all?"

He stood from the couch, his eyes still wide. "I'm going to go and bring Sirius some food," he began, reaching around for his coat, "And then I'm going to fight him for buying me a fucking motorcycle!"

"Tell him I said thank you and I miss him!" she called at his retreating back.

"UGH!"

Lucy had to laugh to herself after Anthony stormed off. A motorbike. She hadn't expected that either, but she couldn't say she was particularly surprised. She was just wondering how on earth he'd bought it while in Diagon Alley.

Before she left to wake her Gryffindor friends, she tended to her pets and gave them their respective presents She wasn't sure if Grayble and Tom Marvotoad Riddle thought much of their new beds, but at least Snape liked his reindeer antler headband, and Ford was enjoying his live rat. Unfortunately the rat was not Pettigrew and instead was a nasty old rat that had been tormenting the boys' dormitory for the past five years Anthony had attended Hogwarts. No matter which room he slept in, the rat always found it. She caught it around a week ago, and she hoped Anthony would take solace knowing his shoes and robes were now safe from the Monster Rat of Hufflepuff.

She hummed to herself on the walk to Gryffindor Tower, the leather jacket stowed away in her dorm, but the swiss army knife weighing pleasantly in her pocket. Sir Cadogan was absent from his portrait, but a nice tip she learned over the years was that there didn't need to be anyone in the portrait for it to swing open.

"Marmalade," she chirped. As soon as the door opened, she charged into the common room. Her foot caught on the portrait hole, like it always did, and she face planted, but for once she was too excited to give her crippling hatred toward the floor any thought. She scrambled to her feet again and barged into Harry and Ron's dorm, shouting at the top of her lungs, "MERRY CHRISTMAS!"

Ron shrieked and jerked sideways out of bed.

Harry, for his part, only peeked one eye open at her and turned over on his side. Lucy narrowed her eyes at him and pulled her wand out of her pocket. Then, realizing who he just turned his back on, Harry shot upward and pointed his wand at Lucy.

"Flipendo!" They yelled at the same time. Their spells connecting made an odd sort of effect, where a great orange ball of light grew between them. Harry sent Lucy an unsure glance as the orb grew bigger and bigger, but she only grinned at him like a madman.

"First one to withdraw is a Slytherin."

Harry's green eyes widened and then narrowed in determination. "Oh, you're on!"

"Both of you are on something, and it isn't butterbeer," Ron muttered, eyeing the orb with growing uncertainty.

When the orb was twice the size of a bludger, Lucy's wand abruptly stopped working, and a huge BOOM! rang throughout the room. A blasting force sent Lucy flying backward into the wall. By the time her ears stopped ringing, Harry was using the bed to help him get up off the floor and Ron was nowhere in sight.

"Uh..." Lucy looked frantically around the dormitory. "Where's Ron?"

"What?" Harry knocked on the side of his head, shaking it from one side to the other as if it would help the ringing clear faster.

She went over to all the beds. "Where's Ron?!"

"Ron?" he said dumbly. Then his eyes widened, and he started looking for Ron as well, tearing the blankets off the bed. "Oh God, where's Ron? Did we kill Ron?"

"Please tell me we didn't kill Ron!" Lucy ran her hands through her hair, dropping to her knees. "There was so much I wanted to tell him... How brave he was... How he was the funniest out of all of us... How I thought his laugh was annoying... How he was nothing but a freckley git—"

"Oh, piss off!"

Lucy's head snapped up. "Ron?!"

Two hands appeared from underneath Dean's bed, and a flushed Ron crawled out from underneath. His hair was blown backward, and now that she was looking, she could see fingernail marks in the floorboard from how he tried to fight against the wave of force. He pushed himself to his feet and glowered between both Lucy and Harry.

"I hate you both," he growled.

Lucy smiled serenely at him. "Merry Christmas, Ronnie."

The dormitory was now a huge mess, with papers and blankets blown everywhere, but as the boys remembered it was Christmas morning, they immediately turned their attention to their presents instead. Lucy hopped onto Harry's bed, shoving him over to make room, and entertained herself by watching her friends open up their presents.

"Blimey, thanks, Luce!" Ron held up a navy sweater, grinning as he flipped it over. "Finally, a color that's not maroon... And— wicked!" He picked up the next part of Lucy's gift to him. She'd given him a book, which ordinarily would have been agony for him, but the book held many hexes and jinxes he could use against his enemies. He flipped it open and paged through it. "Can't wait to test these out on Malfoy..."

Harry opened his present from her as well. Or rather, presents. Her friend was easily enamored by magical items, and when they were in Diagon Alley she often had to stop him from buying things that she knew he'd never use again in his life. She took it upon herself to gift him magical items that were both useful and fun. She bought a practice snitch that would return to him when he called it, but otherwise would behave as a normal snitch. She also gave him new quills since he was always stealing hers all the time and then a ring that glowed red when friends were near and black when enemies were afoot.

"Huh, I think it's broken," Harry stared at the ring after it instantly turned black. Lucy's eye twitched, and she glanced over at 'Scabbers' who was fast asleep on Ron's bed.

"It's because Ron's here," she told him. "He's been plotting your death since first year. It's disturbing, really, but to each their own, am I right?"

Both Ron and Harry threw pillows at her.

She couldn't say she was surprised.

They opened the rest of their presents; Lucy was surprised to see that Mallory sent Harry a new winter cloak. Then again, Lucy never shut up about him the entire summer, and they liked each other the first time they met.

She tried her best to keep her expression neutral when Harry reached for the last item, a long silver parcel. She knew exactly what was inside of that. Sirius wasn't very subtle about it: she could see the Firebolt poking out of his suit pocket the moment he found her outside the apothecary.

"What's that?" Ron caught sight of the shimmering package as well and set his new set of maroon socks to the side.

"Drugs," Lucy said instantly.

"I'm starting to think you're the one who wants drugs," Harry pointed out, grinning. He ripped the parcel open, then stared. And stared. And stared. And stared, and stared, and stared. "There's... no way..." his voice was hoarse as he ran his hand down the Firebolt.

Lucy felt oddly emotional, like she was seeing a castaway reunite with his long lost wife. That was certainly the intensity of Harry's expression at the moment. She wouldn't be surprised if he started snogging the broomstick on the spot. Ron caught sight of the Firebolt and rushed over as well, eyes bulging out of his head as Harry picked up the Firebolt and let it go. It hovered in midair, perfectly still, exactly in the position he released it.

"Who sent it to you?" Ron asked, his voice a reverent hush.

"Is there a card?" Lucy asked, playing along. She was only managing to restrain her maniacal grin with the skin of her teeth. It was official. Sirius was the best.

Ron sorted through the wrapping paper, but of course he found nothing. "Bloody hell! Who'd spend that much on you?" he marveled.

"Well..." Harry still couldn't believe his eyes. "I'm betting it wasn't the Dursleys."

"I bet it was Dumbledore," Ron said as he drew nearer to the bed. He shoved Lucy over to make room and sat beside her. She resisted the urge to shove him off the bed completely, more out of the principle of the thing than anything else, but she decided to show a little holiday spirit and abstain from her homicidal urges. She even scooted back to let him examine the Firebolt in all its glory.

Now that she was behind them and safely out of their view, she furiously punched the air, doing a mad little dance. "Yes!" she mouthed, flopping backward. She grinned at the ceiling, laughing silently. Oh, she loved being in on a secret that was actually good! One that wasn't illegal— okay, well, it still was illegal, because Sirius was a convict, but at least this one wouldn't get her in any trouble by the end of the year, and she was ninety percent sure he wasn't going to try and kill any of her friends.

While she was writhing around like a madman, Harry and Ron were still trying to work out who would have sent the Firebolt.

"Dumbledore gave me the Invisibility Cloak, yeah, but that was my dad's," Harry argued, "He was only passing it on to me. He wouldn't spend hundreds of Galleons on me."

"He probably should," Lucy said, getting a hold of herself. "I mean, isn't anyone going to pay you for saving the world all the time? You should capitalize on that, Halazar." Harry didn't even acknowledge her; he was under the impression refusing to respond to 'Halazar' would make her stop using the nickname. "Don't like Halazar? Alright, alright... How about... Hazza?" His eye twitched. "Harrison? Harrykins?" Still nothing. "Harry Berry?"

Harry turned and threw her an ugly look. "Never call me Harry-Berry ever again," he said, with more disgust in his voice than she'd heard in her entire life. His stern glare couldn't last for long, however, as he looked back toward his Firebolt. "Who do you think sent it, Luce?"

"Me," she said immediately. Harry turned and stared at her. "No, I wish," she sighed. "I dunno— maybe Lupin sent it?"

"What?" Harry asked, starting to laugh. "Lupin? Listen, if he had this much gold, he'd be able to buy himself some new robes."

Lucy, who had second-hand robes herself, felt a prickle of irritation. She stifled it quickly; Harry was blunt but he had a point. Lupin couldn't have afforded the Firebolt— but she didn't doubt that if he did have enough money, he might have sent one to Harry.

"Yeah, but he likes you," Ron pointed out. "And he was away when your Nimbus got smashed, and he might've heard about it and decided to visit Diagon Alley and get this for you—"

"What d'you mean, he was away? He was ill when I was playing in that match."

"Well, he wasn't in the hospital wing," Ron shrugged. "I was there, cleaning out the bedpans on that detention from Snape, remember?"

Lucy was very thankful that Snape never made her scrub bedpans. But then again, he probably knew just how Lucy would retaliate if he tried. She thought she and Snape had a perfectly fine relationship— he did something mean, she threatened him, he glared at her for a few days in silence, and the cycle repeated.

"Wonder where he was then," Harry frowned. "I don't think he'd lie about being sick just to go to Diagon Alley. What d'you think he's doing?"

Ah. When Harry decided to grow suspicious of a professor, it never ended well. Especially since Remus's only 'crime' was being a werewolf.

"Boys..." she began grimly, and they both turned to stare at her. She pushed herself into a sitting position and folded her hands nicely in her lap. Sucking in a deep breath, she said, "I think Lupin is a vampire."

There was a long stretch of silence, in which Ron stared blankly at her and Harry resisted the urge to hit her with a knockback jinx.

"...What?" Harry sighed.

"Think about it!" Lucy insisted. "He's awfully pale, isn't he? And when's the last time you saw him walking around in the sunlight? That's why Professor Snape hates him so much, because he's stealing his brand as walking around like an overgrown bat!"

Ron pursed his lips. "I think you're onto something here, Luce."

Harry absolutely disagreed, but before he could argue, Hermione walked into the room, still dressed in her pajamas. She was carrying Crookshanks in her arms, and the cat looked very grumpy with a chain of tinsel strung around his neck. "Good morning—" she began.

But Ron was staring at Crookshanks in horror. "Don't bring him in here!" he said, quickly reaching over to snatch Scabbers from the bed. He deposited the rat in his pajama pocket. Lucy couldn't help but wrinkle her nose once again, knowing she was in the same room as a grown man.

Hermione ignored him completely. She had spotted the Firebolt, and she dropped Crookshanks onto Seamus's bed, staring open-mouthed at the broomstick. "Oh, Harry! Who sent you that?"

"No idea," Harry said. He reached past Lucy to grab a chocolate frog, and he unwrapped it, dropping the wrapper into Lucy's lap. She glared at him. "There wasn't a card or anything with it," he continued, ignoring her.

"You're really just going to treat me like a rubbish bin, huh?" she demanded.

"If you don't mind," he shrugged. He looked back at Hermione, but unlike the others, she didn't seem happy with this news. She furrowed her brow, chewing on her lip. "What's up with you?"

"I don't know... " Hermione began slowly. "But it's a bit odd, isn't it? I mean, this is supposed to be quite a good broom, isn't it?"

"Oh," Lucy looked over at Hermione and grinned. "You think Sirius Black sent it!"

Harry's jaw dropped, while Hermione glared furiously in her direction. "Lucy!" she groaned. "I was going to ease him into that!"

Lucy only laughed, not because Hermione was being ridiculous, but because Hermione was absolutely right. Sirius Black did send the broom, but he hardly had any nefarious reasoning behind the gift. He wished doom upon the Slytherins, but that was about it. She stifled her laughter, seeing Hermione's glare become more and more stinging.

"Listen, Matilda—" she began.

"Don't you Matilda me!" Hermione said, glaring. "I'm being serious!"

"I'd hope not, heard there's a warrant out for his arrest..."

"Will you be serious— oh, don't start!" Hermione snapped as Lucy opened her mouth to make yet another joke. "Think about it! That broom is awfully expensive, and who'd sent it to him without any note?"

"Uh... literally anyone else who likes Harry?" Lucy suggested.

"Think of the context, Lucy— Black tried to break into the Gryffindor common room, so we know he's around Hogwarts, if not in the building as we speak."

"He's not," Harry cut in. "I have the map, remember?"

Hermione was undeterred. "Well, he could be just outside the grounds, and he doesn't need to be in Hogwarts to send you a cursed present."

"But why would he go through all that trouble?" Lucy countered. "If he wanted to kill Harry, he could've done it at his last Quidditch match."

"It probably hadn't occurred to him until he saw Harry fall off his broom!"

Lucy had to hand it to her, Hermione's argument was a good one when she took into account all the facts the wizarding public knew. But regardless of Hermione's good intentions, Lucy would die before she allowed Harry Potter's dream broomstick to be confiscated by a professor, which was where this conversation was surely heading.

"Hermione, come off it, who cares where the broom came from—" Ron began.

Lucy waved her hand, and a pillow flew over and hit him in the face. "Shush, Ronald, mummy and daddy are debating," she chided.

Ron glared, while Harry was thoughtful. "Who's the mum?" he wondered.

"I'm the man here," Lucy said, lowering her voice.

"Can we get back on subject?" Hermione said pointedly. Lucy straightened up, nodding. "I think we should turn the broomstick over to Professor McGonagall—"

Outraged, Ron shouted, "What—!"

"MUMMY IS SPEAKING!" Lucy shouted over him and summoned the pillow back, only to hit him with it again. She gestured toward Hermione. "Please, continue."

"There's nothing more to it," Hermione frowned. "I truly believe Sirius Black sent that broomstick. Nobody just sends a Firebolt without any reason."

"I agree with you," Lucy said, and Harry shot her a betrayed look. She shot him a 'hold on' sort of glance before turning back to Hermione. "Now I'll tell you why I think you're wrong." Hermione's eyes immediately flared with anger at such a sentence, but Lucy was completely unaffected, charging on. "First of all, from what we all know about Sirius Black, if he were to kill Harry, I don't think he'd try and use a broomstick. He's hardly subtle. Remember those thirteen muggles? He charged into a crowded street and it exploded, all to kill one man. And on Halloween, he charged into a castle full of professors and decided to use a knife out of all things. When he kills the person he's after, he'll want to make it personal. A broomstick just isn't his style."

"Black's smart enough to escape Azkaban," Hermione pointed out. "I'm sure he's smart enough to change tactics."

"He's smart, but he's still Sirius Black," Lucy replied. "And besides— where would he have gotten the money to buy Harry a broomstick? Do you really think he'd be popping in to Gringotts when all of Britain wants him dead? He came all the way here to kill a bloke— and before you try and say he used the owl post, the Quidditch store isn't selling Firebolts through the post, you have to buy it in person. Harry asked during the summer."

"I did," Harry said quickly. He was just as eager to convince Hermione the Firebolt was safe, less because of his own safety and more because he wanted to fly it.

Grudgingly, Hermione was beginning to look convinced. "But if Black didn't send him the Firebolt, then who did?"

"Well... He is Harry Potter, isn't he?" She looked over at Harry. "Put your hands over your ears, I'm about to say things that will offend you." Harry shot her a what sort of look. "I SAID PUT YOUR HANDS OVER YOUR EARS!" She shouted.

"Agh! Fine!" Harry huffed, and he did as she instructed.

Lucy beamed at him and turned to Hermione. "Like I was saying, he is Harry Potter, and he's extremely famous. I'm sure other people know that Black betrayed his parents. There are probably loads of people who were friends with Lily and James Potter who know about his son, and after hearing the news that Black's escaped and they're probably after him— is it so far-fetched that one of them would take pity on him? That they might send him a new broomstick?"

She nudged Harry, letting him know he could remove his hands. "And," Lucy continued, "if you're really worried... Are you forgetting how many detentions I've spent with Madam Hooch? I'm practically a professional broomstick inspector! Give me ten minutes with the broom and I can tell you if it's been tampered with or not."

Ron threw his hands in the air exasperatedly. "Why didn't you say that in the first place!" he cried. "We've had to listen to you argue for how long now?!"

"We weren't arguing, Ronald," Hermione rolled her eyes. "You and I argue. Lucy and I were debating. There's a difference."

"What's the difference?"

"A debate is between two intellectuals. An argument is between an intellectual and... well, you."

Ron's jaw dropped, but before he could go after her for that statement, Crookshanks sprang off Seamus's bed, right toward Ron's chest. Ron let out a shriek and tried to pry Crookshanks off of him, to no avail. "GET— HIM— OUT— OF— HERE!"

"KILL CROOKSHANKS, KILL!" Lucy cried, a wide smile on her face. Harry turned and threw her a horrified look. She shrugged in his direction. "What? It's the circle of life, mate. Cats eat rats. Deal with it. Scabbers has lived long en— EUGH!"

She cringed as Scabbers scurried out of Ron's pocket and jumped over to her, and she resisted the urge to set herself on fire as he settled in her pocket, right next to the swiss army knife. "Not cool, Scabbers," she complained, as Crookshanks turned his beady eyes toward her. Crookshanks dodged out of the way of Ron's kick, making the boy hit the trunk at the end of Harry's bed instead. As Ron howled with pain, Crookshanks stalked toward Lucy.

Lucy fixed the cat with a stern look. "I know what you're thinking," she said firmly. "And no, Crookshanks, you may not kill Scabbers." The cat glared at her, and so she added with a wink, "Not now, at least."

"Why do I get blamed for Crookshanks?" Hermione said furiously. "When Lucy threatens Scabbers just as much as Crookshanks!"

Lucy snickered, taking Scabbers out of her pocket. She held him in front of her and made a kissy face, mindful to keep her lips plenty of inches away from that disgusting rat. "Awww. but Scabbers knows I don't mean it, isn't that right, my boy?" she crooned.

Once again, Scabbers relaxed in her hands. Lucy felt a rush of dark satisfaction, thinking of the look on Pettigrew's face when she handed him over to Sirius on a silver platter.

Ron was still glaring over at Hermione, furious with her for deigning to own a cat in the first place. Lucy rolled her eyes. If they started arguing now, then their Christmas spirit would certainly run dry real quick. She dropped Scabbers in her pocket again and folded her arms across her chest. "Lighten up, you two," she ordered. "It's Christmas!"

"I'd lighten up plenty if Hermione controlled her cat," Ron snapped.

"It's in Crookshanks's nature, he can't help it!" Hermione hissed back at him. "And I've certainly never tried to kick your pet, Ron! Maybe it's you who should be more mindful of other peoples' pets!"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle had more Christmas spirit than the pair of you combined," Lucy muttered under her breath. It was meant to be a joke, but the realization was actually rather sad to her.

Harry glanced in her direction, then turned and grabbed a pillow off his bed. He launched it at Ron's head, and when he gave a shout of protest, he picked up another pillow and threw it at Hermione. Both of them turned and stared at Harry, outraged.

"You're annoying," Harry said bluntly. "But I like you two anyway. Why don't we all get dressed and then Ron and I will have a go at the Firebolt?" Hermione raised her eyebrows, and he hastened to add on, "After Lucy examines it, of course."

Lucy threw herself at Harry, nearly tackling him into a hug. "Someone understands me!" she said, giving a fake sob. "This is why I named you Godfather of my child!"

"What child?"

"Tom Marvotoad Riddle!"

He shoved her away, trying to hide a grin and failing. "I am not being the Godfather of Tom Marvotoad Riddle."

"Tell that to her when I die, will you?"

"Go away," he said, shoving the Firebolt into her arms. "I'm naming you the Godfather of my Firebolt in case I die. Now take good care of it, or I will throw myself off the Astronomy Tower."

"Well, in that case..." Lucy trailed off. She laughed at his threatening glare. "Only joking! I'll be in the common room stripping the wood off your precious broom." With that, she turned and ran from the dormitory, ignoring Harry's shouts of 'YOU BETTER NOT!'

Lucy only checked the broomstick out of respect to Hermione, and obviously, there wasn't anything wrong with it. Madam Hooch taught her plenty of examining spells, along with tricks to identifying faulty features. The Firebolt worked perfectly fine and by the time her friends resurfaced fully dressed, she was shoving the Firebolt into Harry's arms.

"It's fine," she said, "And if any professors ask, say you bought it yourself, okay?"

"Right," Harry said. With the Firebolt in his hands, he was hardly able to keep his eyes off it.

They stopped at Lucy's dormitory so she could grab her Nimbus— wow, 'her' Nimbus was still a weird thought— and before long, they were at the Quidditch field. Harry, of course, let Ron fly the Firebolt first, and while anyone else might have been impatient to ride it, Harry was genuinely happy to see his friend enjoying himself.

After Ron gave Harry back the Firebolt, Lucy passed her Nimbus off to Ron so that the two boys could fly with one another. Meanwhile, Lucy and Hermione sat at the stands, sitting on either side of a jar filled with light blue flames. Since Hermione was still a bit sore over her argument with Ron, Lucy asked her about her classes, and like a switch went off, Hermione's eyes lit up, and she excitedly explained every detail about what she was learning so far.

Lucy was, of course, taking four of the same electives as Hermione, but she stayed quiet and let the Gryffindor ramble on.

At lunchtime, Ron and Harry were both very reluctant to stop flying. But Lucy was going to lose her mind if she missed out on the special Hogwarts steak, and so she pulled out her wand, pointing it in their general direction.

"I'll knock you off your broom, I swear on Salazar's slimybeard!"

That brought Harry enough pause to stop in mid-air to look at her. "Sorry, you swear on what now?"

"Don't ever question me again, Potter," she said quietly. "Come here. NOW!" She bellowed out the last word, jabbing her finger toward the ground. Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "I mean..." she cleared her throat, putting on her best doe-eyes. "Pretty please?"

"That's just scary, mate," Ron marveled at her change in expression.

They stored their broomsticks in the Quidditch shed for the time being. Hermione argued that it was probably locked, but Lucy pulled out her new little swiss army knife and fixed that problem quickly enough. Harry, Ron, and Hermione could only watch in horror as she crouched down and picked the lock. It was better than the alternative; Lucy's preferred way of opening locked doors was to turn them into stone and blow it into smithereens. After their broomsticks were safely stowed away, they went straight to the Great Hall.

...Lucy had completely forgotten about her prank.

The moment they stepped inside, she first noticed the teachers were all sitting around a table. And then, the moment she crossed into the Great Hall, all the candles in the Great Hall turned into little bells that jingled quietly, dare she say ominously. The jingling slowly grew louder, and louder, until a loud BANG! Sounded through the hall, and a series of huge glittery letters appeared in the air above the table.

MERRY FREAKING CHRISTMAS!

"Please don't tell me they—" Harry began, but he stopped as the glitter from the letters rained down upon them. He could only sigh as green and silver glitter fell into all of their hair. "They glitter. Of course they glitter."

Lucy kept her face absolutely straight, pretending as if there was not anything amiss as she slid into one of the empty seats. She wasn't sure how much she liked the change of seating arrangements; she liked the long, empty tables. Namely, the distance they provided between her and Professor Snape. Now she was sitting right across the Potions Master, and he was glaring daggers at her as glitter fell on top of his head. On one side of him sat McGonagall and then Dumbledore, and on the other was Professor Sprout, Flitwick, and Filch. The only other person there was a sullen Slytherin fifth year.

Lucy felt a bit awkward in front of him because she'd sort of seen two of his housemates murdered last year. Should she bring that up? She felt like she shouldn't bring that up.

"Merry Christmas!" Dumbledore greeted them after they'd all settled at the table. Harry sat on one side of Lucy, while the seat beside her was occupied by the Slytherin, who turned away from her. "As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the House tables..."

"Will Mr. Rickett be joining us?" Professor Sprout asked Lucy, looking a little surprised he was missing.

He had been gone for an awfully long time and as far as Lucy could figure, one of two things happened. Either he and Sirius were still in the midst of a joking argument and/or duel, or Anthony relented and was now spending Christmas morning with the man. Either way, she knew Sirius was having a lovely time.

"Only time will tell," Lucy lowered her voice and folded her hands on the table, an ominous gleam in her eye. "Only time will tell..."

Professor Sprout wasn't sure what to make of that, but Snape, ever the beacon of Christmas spirit and delight, threw her a glare. She noted that his glare was slightly more restrained than it ordinarily would have been. Maybe he was showing a bit of holiday cheer, if only by keeping from being a complete and utter git. Or— and more likely— he was restraining himself because Dumbledore was at the table as well.

"Curious that Mr. Rickett seems to be missing," he began, and he pulled out his wand, flicking it once. The glitter raining above their heads and into their food vanished. Not on account of the rainfall of glitter stopping— the spell Lucy used was on a timed basis, not one that had any countercharm— but the glitter and confetti instead seemed to trickle away from them and create a sort of moat around the table. "When such a... fun little display is happening."

Lucy widened her eyes in mock innocence, laying one of her hands on her chest. "Sir! Are you suggesting that Anthony Rickett— a beacon of sunshine and daisies— could have possibly done such a horrendous crime as this?"

"Yes," Snape said bluntly. "But now I'm certain it was you."

"You'd be right," she nodded. Harry turned and threw her a panicked glance, but she held up a hand to silence him. "Listen, Harry. No lies on Christmas. It's disrespectful to Santa or something." She turned her attention to Professor Sprout, the person at the table who was expected to punish her. "So what'll it be? Detention? Death? Detention filled with death?"

Professor Sprout tried to hide a smile as she poured some eggnog into her goblet. "I think that since Severus so kindly sent the debris elsewhere, I can forgive you."

McGonagall fixed her with a disapproving stare. "Pomona, you encourage her."

"She encourages herself," Hermione muttered, helping herself to some asparagus.

The rest of the table followed Hermione's lead, and soon they were all eating. Ron and Hermione had forgiven one another for the assault of the other's pets and Hermione listened politely to Ron's enthusiastic review of both the Firebolt and the Nimbus 2001. Lucy was too focused on her steak to pay attention to much of anything. She only looked up when Dumbledore offered Snape a Wizard Cracker, whereupon the Headmaster traded his wizard hat for the witch's hat with a stuffed vulture atop it.

Harry was also focused on his meal, helping himself to generous portions of roast potatoes, but he couldn't help but eavesdrop on the professors' conversations. Snape did not offer any input unless directly addressed, and he thought that Filch would have been the same way, since he was the second grumpiest member of staff in the school. But Filch, aside from casting a few disparaging glances toward the children, was completely at ease with the other professors and was engaged in a conversation with Flitwick and Sprout.

"I thought I'd lost her," Filch began, his tone uncharacteristically polite. "When she was all stiff and frozen. Tried to look up petrification, I did, but that potion of yours was the only cure."

"It was fortunate that Mandrakes are always in the curriculum, " Professor Sprout said. She frowned. "If we hadn't grown them, the students— and Mrs. Norris— would have been unconscious for far longer. Poor Mr. Creevy would've been petrified through his second year."

Quickly, Harry glanced over to see if his friend— decidedly not the Heir of Slytherin but still, technically, the unwilling perpetrator for last year— was listening. She definitely was not, instead focused on cutting her steak into nice, symmetrical pieces. Upon a further look he saw that she was now carving a face into her steak that was beginning to suspiciously resemble Professor Snape. At least she was distracted; he'd been dying for more information about the Chamber of Secrets.

To this day, it amazed him that not more people thought about everything that had happened last year. Never in passing conversation did he hear anyone mention the petrified students, the basilisk, or even the death of two Slytherin students. He assumed there was plenty of talk about the latter within the Slytherin House— a quick glance at the fifth year Slytherin, who was pointedly turned away from Lucy told him that much— but it was as though nobody else cared. Harry, for one, was not going to forget so easily. How did Voldemort put his memories into the diary? And how did his memories manage to possess someone? Dumbledore called it an 'enchantment' but he doubted that, especially since only the destruction of the diary got rid of Riddle, who at that point was outside of it.

Maybe he wouldn't have been so interested if his best mate wasn't the one nearly kidnapped by Voldemort's diary, but whatever the reason, he wanted to find out further. The only trouble was, if he wanted to know about the diary, he'd have to ask Lucy. She was alright with joking about Voldemort, but he'd never forget that at the end of last year, after the diary had been destroyed and she was passing through the corridors like a ghost, she overheard one pointed comment about herself and Riddle, and had promptly cursed the person with a face full of boils. He was about ninety percent sure his friend wouldn't do that to him but the point was, it was an uneasy subject.

He tried his best to appear involved in his food as well so that Filch would continue speaking. Fortunately, the caretaker hardly moved on from last year's event.

"Another year?" Filch's yellowy eyes bugged out slightly.

"Petrification is tricky magic— thank you, Pomana," Flitwick took the offered eggnog from Sprout and sipped at it. "It's similar to mummification, except it preserves both the body and the mind. But I am happy to assure you, Argus, that Mrs. Norris was not harmed at all. Petrification saves the victim from the unpleasant rehabilitation process that comes with magical comas."

"She wasn't harmed, but she's still awfully jumpy. It haunts her," Filch muttered somberly, "She gets all twitchy at night. Won't patrol on her own nearly as often." Harry noted that and considered that an advantage. "It happens around a certain hour, can't say when, but it must've been when she was petrified. Would've been around..."

"Half past ten," Lucy's voice said clearly from beside him.

"Yes, that's right—" Filch stopped right in the middle of his sentence and stared at Lucy, gaping. The other professors followed his gaze, but Lucy was busy adding generous amounts of barbecue sauce to her steak, creating a pyramid out of the cut up pieces.

She placed the final piece at the top but seemed to sense that something was amiss. She looked up, meeting the professors' gazes. Professor Sprout's expression was sympathetic, McGonagall's surprised, Flitwick confused, while Snape and Filch both glowered at her. Dumbledore, for his part, seemed completely at ease, if not a bit curious. Still, the sight of all five professors staring at her made her furrow her brow.

"What?" Lucy asked, genuinely confused. "Is there something on my face?" She reached up and felt for any sauce, but she found nothing.

Before anyone could say anything, the doors to the Great Hall opened. In glided Professor Trlawney in what appeared to be her most dramatic garments; Lucy's eyes lit up at the sight of the professor in a sparkly green dress with bulbous sequins. She seemed not to notice the glitter raining down upon her.

Unlike her friends, Lucy actually enjoyed Divination. Even if her predictions were bogus, she liked how quiet the classroom was, since everyone was too subdued by the heavy incense to cause a ruckus. Plus, for the first time in her life, she was the teacher's pet and Hermione Granger was the 'trouble student'. One could argue that she was the teacher's pet in Quirrell's class, but she didn't really count that since Quirrell threatened her demise at least once per week. Trelawney never threatened her demise, only heavily alluded to it, which was appreciated and also amusing.

"Sybill, this is a pleasant surprise!" Dumbledore stood up to greet her.

"I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster," Professor Trelawney said in the most mystical voice she could muster. "And to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness."

Hermione made a strained noise further down the table that sounded like a mixture between a scoff and a sigh. Lucy, however, beamed, and waved at the professor. "Hi, Professor!"

Trelawney's gaze turned somewhat less misty when she spotted Lucy. Somehow the woman decided that she liked Lucy, when she really should have dubbed her as a menace. Lucy did her work in class, yes, but she also flung tea leaves at Harry and Ron every chance she got, and the class before break she and Ernie broke their tea cups by toasting to one another too hard.

"Good afternoon, my dear. Have you been training your Inner Eye like I instructed?"

Trelawney's advice to 'opening her inner eye' was for Lucy to practice unblinking exercises— as in, she must stare into space for at least two minutes without blinking. Now Lucy was good at zoning out but she was not about to dry out her beautiful eyes for a Divination class.

"Well the funny thing about that is, when I was doing that, my Inner Eye told me to do the opposite of that, so that's what I've been doing," Lucy finished with an innocent little smile. Trelawney nodded, like that made perfect sense.

Professor McGonagall snorted quietly into her goblet.

"Miss Rochester's solutions have always been rather unconventional," Professor Dumbledore agreed with an amused gleam in his eye. "Let me draw you up a chair, Sybill." And that was exactly what he did: with his wand, he drew out the outline of a chair that fell directly between Professor Snape and McGonagall.

Trelawney didn't sit down. She glanced around the table before uttering a soft scream. "I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen!"

"Thirteen?" Lucy gasped.

"Thirteen!" Trelawney repeated. "Nothing could be more unlucky!"

"Nothing!" Lucy agreed, making herself seem horrified as well. Sprout shot her a reproving look, while McGonagall was trying her best not to smile.

"Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!"

"We'll risk it, Sybill," McGonagall said after she got a hold of herself. "Do sit down, the turkey's getting cold."

After a moment's hesitation, Professor Trelawney sat down, waiting with her eyes closed as though she expected the ceiling to collapse on them. Lucy at once tried to stand up to claim the 'first to rise will be the first to die', but Harry put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down into her seat, sending her 'do NOT' kind of look. She pouted and leaned back in her chair.

"Potters are no fun," she huffed.

"And Rochesters are idiots."

"Are we going to ignore that she knew when Filch's cat was—" Ron began, but Harry turned and threw him a pointed glance. "—beautiful, absolutely beautiful in her youth?"

Thankfully Filch didn't hear him, but Lucy certainly did. She stared at Ron blankly. "Sometimes you trouble me, Ron."

"You always trouble me, so I guess we're even."

Lucy was very tempted to throw a piece of her steak at him regardless of the consequences. Professor Trelawney's voice drew her out of her musings. "Where is dear Professor Lupin?" she asked, looking all around the table as though he might have been hiding in the stew.

Harry and Ron straightened at once, while Hermione and Lucy shared a quick glance. She should've figured that Harry wouldn't forget about Lupin's 'mysterious' disappearance from the hospital wing. She couldn't exactly blame him for not knowing, but she hoped that after two years her friend, notorious for working out puzzles and investigating, might have noticed Professor Snape's strong emphasis on werewolves on the same day Remus was absent from class. To be fair nobody other than herself, Hermione, and Wayne noticed, but still. Come on, Harry.

"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," Dumbledore said casually. "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day."

Lucy tried not to appear too confused. The full moon was on the twenty-eighth, not on Christmas. Then again, he was gone from the classroom for more than just one day. Therefore the transformations must affect days in advance and, likely, days afterward. She couldn't help but frown this time; she wished she could do something more than just bake him a tin of brownies.

...She'd bake him two tins of brownies.

Maybe three.

Four? Was four too much?

No, four was perfect.

But maybe five would be better?

"But surely you knew, Sybill?" Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows at the professor while Harry shot Lucy a strange look. Her eyes must have glazed over again, like they usually did whenever she was concentrating hard on something she probably ought not to be doing.

Trelawney's misty demeanor vanished, and she fixed McGonagall with a cold stare. "Certainly I knew, Minerva. But one does not parade the fact that one is All Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous."

"That explains a great deal," McGonagall muttered. This time, it was Lucy's turn to snort. Trelawney's eyes flickered over to her and Lucy quickly shoved her steak into her mouth, pretending to be completely absorbed in her food.

"If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him—"

"Imagine that," Professor McGonagall deadpanned.

"I doubt," Dumbledore cut across their argument, much to Lucy's disappointment, "that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Snape said, not looking pleased about it.

Lucy straightened up at once. "You gave him more drugs? Professor, I thought we had a deal!" she said, outraged.

Snape pinned her with a slightly weary glare. "Rochester, perhaps as a... Christmas gift... to me,you might spend the rest of this dinner in silence."

"But I've already gotten you a Christmas gift," Lucy said innocently.

And she reached into her pockets, pulling out a brand new case of red muggle pens.

Lucy swore she saw Snape's will to live shrivel up and die right then and there.

Dumbledore kindly flicked his wand and levitated the pens in front of Snape, who made no move to grab them. He sat there frozen, staring emotionlessly at Lucy. She wondered briefly if she shattered his mind. After a few moments of staring, he looked down at the package in front of him, and his lip curled up in disdain upon seeing a red and gold sparkling bow fastened on it, along with a coupon.

"Miss Rochester, what, may I ask, is Pizza Hut?" Flitwick asked as he leaned over to look at the case of pens.

Harry pretended he dropped something and ducked under the table to hide his laughter, while Hermione held her goblet in front of her face, her shoulders shaking. Lucy kept her face completely blank.

"Dunno, I've never been there," she said, shrugging.

Lucy knew it was a pizza place because she'd seen it in passing, but she'd never gone inside. The orphanages' trips to the shops stopped shortly after they stopped admitting new children into the facility. It was a shame; half her entertainment was seeing how many items she could nick before people started getting suspicious. She had a fun little trick where she'd flick her wrist and trip Jennifer, and while everyone went to check on her, Lucy would shove something from the nearest shelf into her pocket.

She smiled fondly, remembering it. Those were simpler times, when her biggest enemy was a muggle schoolyard bully. Surprisingly she had never questioned how she could move objects with her mind, all she knew was that it was rad and it allowed her to get away with loads of things.

In her reminiscing, she forgot that she had just given Snape a gift card to Pizza Hut, and when she came to her senses the man was glaring daggers through her soul. Lucy made a show of looking worried.

"What is it, sir?" she wondered. "I thought you'd like it. Now you can do the Pizza Hut Strut."

Harry was not subtle this time; he deliberately dropped his fork just so he could pick it up, laughing under the table. Snape's glare worsened into the fire of a thousand suns.

Lucy leaned forward, her brow furrowed. "Do you prefer Domino's?" she whispered.

"Rochester?" Snape said quietly.

"Yes, Professor?"

Dumbledore glanced between the two. His expression was neutral but he was undoubtedly amused as Lucy stared up at Snape with wide, innocent eyes. Professor Snape stared at her, unblinking for a solid ten seconds. Finally Lucy sighed and scooted her chair away from the table.

"I'll be merciful," she sighed. Then she pointed at him. "But only this once! Never again!"

"Why are you still here?" Snape raised an eyebrow.

"'Cause Harry's here," she said, and she reached over and grabbed his arm, tugging him out of his seat. She started walking toward the exit.

"Hey!" Harry tried to yank out of her grip, and when that didn't work, he tried digging his heels into the floor. She was stronger than she looked, so she kept walking, undeterred. "Why do I have to leave, too?"

"Because we're best mates," Lucy said in a 'duh' tone. "And I'll feel terribly lonely if I'm wandering around outside. I might run into a Dementor. You know how I feel about Dementors!"

As soon as the doors to the Great Hall closed, Lucy could hear the faint screeches of Trelawney, saying something about 'First to rise' and 'Lucy's demise'.

"First to rise, Lucy's demise. That's quite a lovely tune, isn't it?" Lucy released Harry's arm and walked forward, hopping over the cracks in the floor. "First to rise, Lucy's demise! How will she die? It'll take her by surprise!"

"See, I don't like it when you say these things, because they always have a way of coming true," Harry muttered. He could have gone back to the Great Hall now that she was distracted and likely wouldn't stop him, but he fell into step beside her, narrowly dodging out of the way when she made an abrupt change in hopping direction.

She didn't glance at him, but she grinned. "Nah, I'll never die. I'm all immortal and shit."

"But you've already said the first part, which means it will come true."

"That's simply offensive, Harry Potter, because everything I say is a lie."

"Even your lies turn true," he snorted. "Remember your prediction? Argument over an unexpected fortune? What do you suppose happened this morning?"

She cast him a dubious look. She liked Divination and all but she doubted she was a seer. Tom said they were really rare, and while she liked the kyanite necklace Mallory sent her, she hadn't had any visions or anything. "Someone having an 'unexpected fortune' on Christmas is hardly surprising," she pointed out.

"And you were right about Quirrell, even before you knew for certain he was evil," Harry continued.

"Well, yeah, he was a shady garlic man." She looked upward and made a heart with her hands to the sky. "Miss you, Quirrell. You've taught me so much more than Voldemort or Lockhart ever could. Sorry my best friend sort of stomped your face in—"

"And," Harry cut her off, "You had another prediction about Hermione losing a case. And what were we doing earlier this week? Researching Buckbeak's case. I'm not saying you're a full seer, Luce, but you should give Divination an honest try."

"I do try in Divination!" she said defensively. "It's you all who make fun of it the entire time."

"It's a bit hard to take seriously when Trelawney predicts my death every five minutes," he said dryly.

"Predict hers back," Lucy suggested.

Harry tilted his head. "You know what? I might."

They walked through the castle and made it outside, facing Hagrid's Hut. Harry cast a glance over at the Quidditch pitch, more specifically, Madam Hooch's shed, while Lucy looked toward the forest. Anthony hadn't resurfaced yet and while she wasn't worried, she was curious as to what they were doing in there. Knowing Anthony, they were either duelling, laughing, or wandered off to have some sort of adventure. All of these options Lucy approved of except for the fact that they did not include her. If they were having some super amazing adventure, they would make it up to her. She loved adventures! What was the point of going to a magic school if not to explore the mysterious enchanted forest? And maybe kill a few trolls?

"God, I'd love to kill a troll right about now," Lucy said fervently, reaching into her pocket for her wand. The way in which the troll from last year died was, objectively, a horrible death, but there was something about the feeling of casting a dark spell that was absolutely magnetic. Maybe she should feel bad about that, but right now she didn't particularly care.

Harry threw her a weird look, and she continued. "Or fight a Slytherin. But there are no Slytherins or trolls, and so I am sad." She promptly collapsed backward into the snow, spreading her arms wide.

Harry stood right by her head and leaned over, staring down at her with an amused expression. "There is one Slytherin inside."

"I killed two of his mates and got a third one expelled, think I'll give him a break for the year."

Lucy knew very well that she hadn't personally killed them but saying it out loud entertained her, if only for the shock value. Harry only rolled his eyes. She stared at him thoughtfully. She hadn't killed anyone, but her wand had. She was surprised, thinking back on it, that her wand hadn't electrocuted Tom like it was supposed to, but then again, she wasn't supposed to be able to speak Parseltongue either. At least Montague didn't try and use it. She'd have to burn it if he did.

"UGH! I'm so bored!" Lucy burst out all of a sudden. She picked up a handful of snow and held it close to her face. "Sometimes I sniff the snow just to feel things for once," she said solemnly.

"Y'know what a great cure for boredom is?" Harry began hopefully.

"If you say Quidditch, I'm killing your parents."

Harry's face fell. She snickered. "You're a git," he told her. "And hate to break it to you but Voldemort beat you to that one."

"But last year I was Voldemort."

"You were possessed by Voldemort. He was on the back of Quirrell's head, that didn't mean he was Voldemort either."

"Objection!" She sat up and threw the snow to the side. "Quirrell and Voldemort did overlap at times and for that reason, I named him Voldy-Quirrell."

"... of course you did."

"Continuing this line of amazing logic, I'd like to legally refer to any actions I did last year as the actions of Lucymort, not Lucy Rochester." She smiled, very proud of herself for this conclusion. "Spread that around, will you?"

Harry said nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

He did, however, turn and begin to walk away. She watched as his form grew smaller in the distance, and briefly she wondered if this was it, if she'd finally managed to break her friendship with Harry James Potter. But then, in one swift motion, he bent down and picked up a handful of snow, whirling it in her direction. It hit her directly in the face, and she fell backward, yelping.

The cold stung her cheek, but a wicked smile crept onto her face.

It was time.

It was time for the third Snow War.

Lucy burst into loud, high laughter, slowly pushing herself to her feet. She was hunched over for a few moments as she laughed, holding her sides. With one arm, she shakily waved her finger at him. "Oh..." she chuckled. "Oh, you are going to regret the day you survived, Harry Potter."

He narrowed his eyes, picking up another handful of snow. "Suppose we'll see," he said coolly. He threw the pile of snow at her, but this time she artfully dodged out of the way, whipping out her wand as she did so. "Protego!" Harry cried, and the jets of blue light she sent flying at him bounced off his shield. "You're playing dirty already?" he demanded.

"What can I say?" Lucy shot him a wink. "Badgers live in the dirt. I can't help my own nature. Now— Glaciescantico!"

Her wand sputtered at first, but she summoned all of her will, and soon after a huge blast of ice shot out of her wand, the force so great that it sent her sliding backward. She pointed it at the ground and watched gleefully as a huge glacier began to form, crackling its way into a roughly pirate-ship shaped ice block. By no means was it as refined as Flitwick's from her first year, but the sheer size of it was already more impressive.

She clambered onto the ship, ducking below one of the railings. She peeked over and saw that Harry had apparently been studying, too. He had his wand pointed at the ground and was building himself a wall that was meant for fortitude rather than flashiness. Lucy knew that one good shattering curse could blow her entire ship into smithereens, but that was a risk she was willing to take.

"Oh, for— it's been five minutes, guys!" Hermione's voice shouted from the distance. Lucy turned to see Hermione and Ron slowly approaching, their wands drawn as well.

Lucy slid over to the other side of the ship and bent over the railing, leering at them. "Choose your side, comrades!" she sang. "Choose between life—" she gestured to her ship. "—or death!" and she pointed toward Harry.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. Ron immediately took a step toward Harry, but Hermione grabbed his elbow. "We choose our side," she said primly. "Now, if you'll excuse me— Terracastellum!"

From beneath the snow, a mount of dirt sprouted and grew just high enough to cover Ron and Hermione while standing. The next few spells, Lucy couldn't hear, but the mound of dirt seemed to harden, and Hermione and Ron disappeared from view. A moment later, a huge snowball burst from the front of the dirt mound and pelted at Harry's wall.

"A dirt fort?" Harry said incredulously. "That's got to be cheating!"

"All's fair in snow and war, Harry, we've told you this!" Ron yelled back.

"I like a little challenge," Lucy said thoughtfully. She waved her wand over the railing and muttered a spell, then watched with satisfaction as a pair of cannons formed. Before the end of her second year she spent ages researching spells for this exact moment. Unfortunately her Snow War preparation fell flat when she returned to Wool's Orphanage for the summer, but the spells she retained were impressive, and she thoroughly enjoyed the growing look of horror on Harry's face with every refinement she made to her ship.

From there, the Snow War only intensified.

Ron and Hermione were ruthless, and it got to the point where it was less of a snowball fight and more of a duel. While Lucy was busy hurling Bludger-sized snowballs at Harry's wall, which stood strong against her onslaught, Ron snuck out of the dirt mount and whispered a flame spell to the bottom of Lucy's ship. She didn't notice at first, but after a few minutes she became very aware that the ship seemed... slanted.

She turned around, eyes wide, and saw that the other half of her pirate ship was now a puddle of water, and the enchanted fire was only spreading. "Aguamenti! Aguamenti!" The water put out the fire, but things were looking dire now. The fire had caused her ship to slope downward and she now felt as though she was fighting on the sinking titanic. Her imagination ran wild, and she clambered over to the main mast of the ship.

"Incarcerous!" Lucy said, pointing her wand at the top of the mast. The spell was usually meant to tie other people up, but it worked as well as any other spell that conjured rope. The rope coiled itself tightly around the top, and she let it keep growing until there was enough slack. Then, without hesitation, she stowed her wand away and gripped the rope with both hands. She began to climb.

"How in the— were you the top of your gym class?" Harry demanded, staring at Lucy with wide eyes as she pulled her way up the huge ship.

"Didn't have one," Lucy called back down, grinning. "But I did have ten years of boredom and free time on my hands!" She was certain if Harry knew she used to sneak out through the tree by her window, he'd scream, considering her room was three stories up.

Lucy reached the top and muttered the glacier spell again to give her feet a bit of a platform. She kept one hand planted firmly around the rope and eyed Hermione and Ron. From her higher angle, she could see them huddled together, whispering a plan. An evil grin formed on her face and she pointed her wand directly above their mound. "Nubix," she whispered.

An ominous dark cloud appeared far above their heads, and hail began to descend down on them. Hermione noticed it too late; the hail pelted Ron first, and he yelped, shoving Hermione out of the way. "Run, Hermione!" he cried, falling onto his side. "Bloody hell, this hurts!"

"Surrender and I will spare you!" Lucy called.

"Ron, really— Protego!" A shimmering shield appeared above Ron and Hermione's heads. Lucy laughed at them some more, then yelped as a jet of red light whizzed by her head. She turned to see Harry standing inside her ship, holding his wand with both hands.

"It's over, Lucy," Harry said firmly. He walked to the mast of the ship and pointed his wand at it. "One move, and the ship goes down."

Lucy only smiled down at him. "Oh, Harry, didn't you know?" She let go of the rope, straightening her shoulders. "A captain always goes down with her ship." She pointed her wand at the neighboring mast, shouted "Incarcerous!", and as the rope coiled around the other mast, she kicked her feet off the platform. Hermione let out a startled shriek, and for good reason, too.

Because as brilliant as Lucy was, she was also an idiot.

There was no conceivable way she, a scrawny little orphan, could possess the upper body strength to hang onto a rope as she was falling. She realized this as soon as she kicked off the platform, and regret began to sink in when the ground approached her at a frightening speed.

Suddenly a voice boomed from the forest line. "ARESTO MOMENTUM!"

With her nose a foot from the ground, Lucy halted mid-air and descended slowly. Hermione and Ron rushed toward the ship, while Harry ran over to the railing to see who could have possibly done that.

"Are you insane, you could have died, or been seriously injured, and on Christmas, you're a complete maniac—" Hermione was shrieking at her, but as Lucy registered who'd just saved her life, she let out a hysterical laugh. For the second time Sirius had to stop her from falling to her death, and she was damn sure he was upset about it.

"I can't see anyone," Harry muttered. "Who...?"

"Will you! Stop! Laughing!" Hermione whacked Lucy's shoulder with every word, but she was beside herself.

Ron gently shoved Hermione to the side and kneeled in front of Lucy. "Allow me," he said calmly. Then he grabbed Lucy's shoulders and shook her viciously. She let out a yelp as he shouted in her face, "SNAP OUT OF IT! WAKE UP! YOU'RE HAVING A NIGHTMARE, WAKE UP!"

Lucy's laughter stopped abruptly. She stared at Ron with wide eyes. Was she dreaming...? Was anything real?!

His lips pulled up into a satisfied grin. He released her and leaned back. He looked over at Hermione. "Fred and George used to do that to me all the time when I was younger," he explained. "Made me think I was still asleep. Mum made them stop after I almost jumped off the roof to see if I could fly, but it's always good for a shock."

"Hey, Ron?" Hermione began kindly.

"Yeah?"

"Your family is insane."

Ron shrugged.

"Will you two stop messing with Lucy's brain and come over here! I'm trying to see who cast that spell!" Harry hissed.

Lucy sat up, walking over to the railing as well. "I reckon it was Sirius Black," she said wisely. He threw her an ugly look. "Or Lupin. Or Pettigrew. I'm betting it was Peter Pettigrew. A hero, even in death, am I right?"

"You can't joke about dead people," Ron said, but he was far from offended as he tried to hide a grin.

"Can't I?" Lucy countered. "I made a joke about your mum this morning— oh, wait..." she trailed off, wincing at Ron's confused expression. "Has... has nobody told you?"

"What?!"

"She's lying to you, you're gullible, you're both horrible, now can we please focus!" Harry snapped.

Lucy rolled her eyes and leaned over the railing, resting her chin atop it. She scanned the forest line and found nothing. She tilted her head, moving it from side to side— and she noticed it. Right beside one of the trees, there was an odd... well, 'bump' in the air. She squinted and tried to focus further, but her eyes seemed to blur up. A smile pulled at her lips. It was Sirius alright, and he'd disillusioned himself.

Lucy cupped her hands over her mouth.

"OH SPIRITS OF THE FOREST, I BEG THEE, REVEAL YOURSELF!"

A loud, distorted voice sounded back.

"THE SPIRITS SAY LUCY ROCHESTER IS AWESOME!"

It didn't sound like Sirius's voice, instead it was a garbled, deep baritone. If she didn't know it was him, shivers would have run up her spine. Ron's jaw dropped, while Hermione and Harry exchanged a strange look.

"D'you think...?" Hermione whispered fearfully.

"It's Voldemort?" Harry finished.

Lucy paused. Now that she thought about it, it did kind of sound like Voldemort when he was on the back of Quirrell's head. She considered her friends for a few seconds before turning back to the forest.

"HEY! ARE YOU VOLDEMORT?" she yelled.

"WHAT?!" the garbled voice took on an offended note. "NO! DO I LOOK UGLY TO YOU?"

"I WOULDN'T KNOW! YOU'RE A FOREST SPIRIT!"

"WELL I'M NOT! I'M SUPER HANDSOME, AND SMART, AND AMAZING!"

"VOLDEMORT IS ALL THREE OF THOSE THINGS!"

"NOW I'M BEGINNING TO WONDER IF YOU'RE VOLDEMORT!"

"Will you please stop shouting at the weird forest voice?!" Ron burst out.

"YES!" she shouted in Ron's face. He blinked, and she cleared her throat. "Sorry, bit hard to snap out of it. But don't be too worried. Because it's OBVIOUSLY ANTHONY RICKETT IN THERE!" She added that last part pointedly, hoping that if Anthony was there he'd take the hint and reveal himself. She did not need Harry to lead yet another crusade upon the Forbidden Forest to find the source of the voice. Last time she'd blinded an awful lot of man-eating spiders, and she wasn't looking to repeat the experience.

There was a short silence, and then sure enough, Anthony stumbled out of the woods. "You caught me!" he said, grinning. "And—" he turned his head, and Sirius must have whispered something to him, because he turned toward Lucy, absolutely outraged. "YOU JUMPED OFF A PIRATE SHIP?!"

Lucy glared toward the forest. "THE FOREST SPIRIT IS A SNITCH!" she yelled.

From right beside Lucy, Harry suddenly dissolved into laughter. Ron followed soon after. Lucy was confused for a few moments, but then she thought back to everything that'd happened in the past hour. From giving Snape a Pizza Hut gift card, to fighting Harry from a pirate ship, to being saved by Sirius Black yet again, and a laugh burst from her lips, too.

Hermione tried to remain stern because her friend had nearly died, but the sight of her three best friends laughing managed to crack through her neutral exterior. Soon enough, she was laughing too, softly at first and then clutching her stomach.

Anthony could only sigh to himself, shaking his head as he wandered nearer to the ship. "You four give me gray— DEMENTORS?!" he shrieked.

Lucy was certain Anthony was just having her on, but Harry shot upright, his laughter gone. His eyes widened, and he stumbled backward. "Luce— Luce! He's not joking!" he hissed.

She straightened up as well, pulling out her wand. Sure enough, in the distance she could see at least five Dementors gliding toward them. They were ordered to stay away from the students, but with nearly everyone in the castle gone for the holidays, they must have picked up on an unusually strong amount of happiness coming from this general area. They were only fifty feet away from them, and she could already feel a faint buzzing in her temple. However, her indignation toward the Dementors remained.

"Run, you lot!" Anthony ordered.

But a smile crept onto Lucy's face, and she pulled out her wand.

"Nygiutum Ator," she said pleasantly.

As it had the year prior, the snow glowed red, and a giant snow golem formed from the ground. Lucy cast the spell again, and again, until she had nine or so golems, all the same hulking size. Anthony stared at Lucy in pure shock as she raised her arms.

"DESTROY THEM, MY SONS! DESTROY THEM ALL!"

"Lucy, NO—" Harry and Anthony shouted at the same time.

All of the golems squared themselves up, then bent down and charged full speed ahead at the Dementors. She laughed madly, feeling nothing but delight when one of the golems swung its giant arm and clocked one of the Dementors around the side of the Head. She heard a faint, garbled humming noise, and she was proud to say that she had finally experienced what a Dementor scream sounded like.

Her friends were all so focused on the golems that they did not see Sirius's disillusionment charm wear off. Lucy did, and she saw him standing there, staring at her in shock just like Anthony had. Then the shock slowly wore off and he shot her a pair of thumbs up, hunching over laughing. She grinned at him. He stopped laughing and pointed at the mast of the ship, to her, and shook his head firmly, glaring. She still grinned, but nodded.

Yes, she had learned her lesson. She would not jump off the giant masts of ships anymore.

...Without any adults around.

While the Dementors screamed and fled the other direction, Anthony stormed forward. Lucy noticed that his hair was now a putrid green color. She caught his eye, and he scowled. "Our resident Santa Claus decided to give me a Christmas prank," he sulked. "But enough about me, I'd like to know why you THREW YOURSELF AT THE GROUND?!"

"Snow war," she shrugged. "Shit happens."

"I don't know who won," Harry began slowly, "But I'm going to say Lucy lost because she nearly killed herself."

"Harry won," Anthony said at once. Ron shot him an offended look. "It's because he's lovable and cute." He reached over and ruffled Harry's hair, laughing when the younger boy hit his hand away.

Anthony marched them all into the castle, and nobody argued with him. The Snow War left all of them drenched in snow, dirt, sweat, and in Lucy's case, a bit of blood. Once again, victory evaded Lucy Rochester, but she was determined... She knew that next year, she was going to win the greatest duel yet.

Later, with their broomsticks safely bundled away in the corner, Lucy and the others sat around the Gryffindor fireplace, mugs of hot chocolate— or in Lucy's case, hot coffee— in their hands. As Anthony recited an elaborate tale of how he met his first mermaid, Lucy leaned back in the sofa, thinking of all the ways she could win her next duel. She found her mind wandering and so she tried to pay attention again.

She looked up from her lap and made an attempt to listen to Anthony's story. She blinked once, then frowned, because Anthony wasn't there any more.

Nobody was there. She was staring at a dense, dark forest, and —

in the distance a black mist hovered near a river, bleeding into it. Its hand— if one could call it a hand— reached toward the silver water, sending ripples breaking its calm surface. She stepped closer, and the mist turned, stared at her.

"You again?"

She blinked in surprise, and she was back in the common room.

No time had passed.