The Will of the Wands
Chapter 11 – Pendants of Christmas
Christmas morning dawned cold and misty, and Harry Potter paced in his dormitory. He hadn't slept at all, and his eyelids were drooping. He felt so guilty for forgetting to get the girls a gift - he'd been trying to think up suitable solutions the whole night.
Around seven o'clock, the other boys in the dormitory began to stir, and Harry leapt back in bed to make it look like he'd just woken from a fresh sleep too, so no awkward questions would be asked. Soon Ron was awake, his ginger hair sticking up in all places, rubbing at his eyes.
"Morning, Harry," he yawned, stumbling out of his bed, "Happy Christmas, yeah?"
"Happy Christmas, Ron," Harry replied, feeling cheery even with the sinking feeling that he was going to make the girls upset, or worse, make them cry. He reluctantly followed Ron downstairs, where most, if not all of Gryffindor Tower was tearing into their gifts.
Harry located his pile with no problem- it had always seemed like Ron had found it the previous night and hid it away, so he could present Harry with them Christmas morning. Hermione soon joined them, followed by a grumpy-looking Ginny. From Ron, Harry had gotten a Chudley Cannons' quill, which wrote in both team colours; from Hermione, he'd received two books- one about dark creatures found in Great Britain, and one about the defeat of Grindelwald, which she said, 'covered an extensive interview with Professor Dumbledore that looked rather interesting.'
He had just reached the last four packages in his pile, a messy scrawl on top of an oddly lumpy package told him that it was from Hagrid, another less lumpy one Harry guessed was from Mrs. Weasley, and finally, the ones he'd been dreading- the packages from Millie and Dakota. He examined them closely- they weren't as intimidating as he'd first thought- one was rather small and square, and the other was enclosed in an envelope.
Pushing them aside, Harry untied the string on the gift from Hagrid first. Bracing himself, Harry peeled back the brown paper, remembering past gifts from the Care of Magical Creatures professor, but was shocked to see a demure-looking robe. Satisfied that it wouldn't attack him, Harry grew bolder, lifting the robe out of the wrappings. However, he moved too soon, as the collar of the robe unfurled a jagged line of what seemed to be porcupine quills and began hurling them at Harry.
He dropped the robe with a yelp, kicking it away with his foot, which fell prey to the quills- the quills immediately found their target and imbedded themselves in the wool socks he'd thought to put on before getting out of bed.
Note to self, Harry thought, yanking quills out his sock, Remind Hagrid that, while he meant well, I was unable to tame the robe, and remember to give him a suggestion next year.
After dropping the quills to the side, he pulled Mrs. Weasley's package onto his lap. Deciding there was nothing to be wary of, he opened the crisp paper to reveal another jumper, this time in a deep blue. A note was pinned to the collar, and Harry unhooked it, taking in the familiar writing.
Hello, dear! Just wanted to wish you a happy Christmas, and send along your gift. I do hope it fits and you like the colour- Ron had been adamant that you were probably getting tired of green jumpers, but they match your eyes so! Please do eat up; I've sent some mincemeat pies and some peanut brittle, and a bit of that toffee you liked so well. Hope you enjoy!
Love always,
Molly and Arthur
Harry smiled to himself- the Weasleys always made sure he wasn't left out of the gift exchange. He remembered his very first Christmas at Hogwarts, and the jumper she'd sent him then. Trying to avoid having an emotional breakdown in the middle of the common room, Harry slipped the jumper over his head, marvelling at how warm he'd become. He looked down again, and this time, all was unwrapped but the gifts from Dakota and Millie.
He sighed, picking up the envelope. In crisp, slightly loopy handwriting, he read, To: Harry Potter. He slid his thumbnail under the crest, and broke the seal. In the envelope, to his surprise, was a Chocolate Frogs famous wizards card, with his face on it, with it a note. Reading the back of the card, he was amused that Ron and Hermione had been listed as his best friends.
Harry turned his attention back towards the note, which had been written on pink parchment. He picked it up and began to read.
Harry,
Sorry, it's not much, but I just wanted you to have a happy Christmas. That card is really rare- hope you like it!
Millie
Surprisingly innocent, and yet, made him feel a bit better about neglecting to get anything for them in return. He looked under the ripped wrappings for the other, and finally located it, near the quill-shooting robe. Tearing the shiny paper off, he unhooked the lid of the box to find a tiny framed photograph. The photo had obviously been taken after Harry had introduced the four to the rest of the D.A, as the miniscule Harry was being tackled on a sofa by a giggling version of Madison and Dakota, Alexis grinning madly from behind him. Harry couldn't help but grin at it before searching the paper for a note.
Not finding one, Harry knelt down, looking under the discarded wrappings again. The next thing he knew, a small pair of stockinged feet approached him, with a cheerful, "Harry Potter, sir!"
Harry froze. He knew that voice. He looked up, and smiled weakly at the house-elf. "Hi, Dobby," he said, righting himself. "How've you been?"
"Dobby is very good indeed, Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby replied, his tennis ball-sized eyes gleaming. "Dobby is supposed to fetch you, Harry Potter, sir, for Headmaster Dumblydore, sir."
"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry blinked. What on Earth does Professor Dumbledore want with me on Christmas? "Did he say what for?"
"No, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby said sadly, his ears drooping. "Dobby is supposed to fetch Harry Potter, sir, and bring him to the kitchens right away, right away!"
"All right," Harry said, standing up. "Hang on, I've got to go get my robe, hang on a sec-"
"Begging your pardon, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby stammered, hopping from one foot to the other, "But Harry Potter does not have time, Dobby is supposed to bringing Harry Potter to the kitchens at once!"
"All right," Harry sighed. "Lead the way." And lead the way he did. Through the clamours of students happily displaying their gifts to their friends, Dobby marched Harry, not only catching the attention of Ron and Hermione, but Dakota and Millie as well, to the kitchens.
"Where're you off to?" Ron asked through a mouthful of chocolate.
"Dumbledore wants to see me," Harry replied, halting Dobby. Behind Ron, Hermione clucked her tongue.
"On Christmas?"
"Yeah," Harry said, trying to keep Dobby stationary- the adamant house-elf was determined to keep going, even though his companion had halted.
"Harry Potter, sir, we must hurry!" Dobby was saying.
"Harry!" Millie said excitedly, finally catching up to them. "Thank you so much!"
Huh? Harry thought. He looked down at the younger girl, who was clearly ecstatic about something. "Sure?" he said weakly.
"These are so pretty," Dakota said, fingering a smooth stone hung on a leather cord around her neck.
"Um," Harry said, giving the Indian girl an odd look. "What?"
"The necklace, silly," she said, holding out the pendant. Looking closer, Harry could see the dark green stone, flecked with tiny specks of red. He looked to Millie's neck, and there was a similar pendant, the stone being greyish-purple. "How'd you know my favourite colour was green?"
"Um," Harry began, wondering where he'd been, and how they'd gotten the impression that he'd known anything. "Are you sur-"
"Oh, look, there's Lexi's owl, whats-its-name, Courtlandt!" Millie poked Dakota. "C'mon, Dakota!"
"Bye!" Dakota waved, and they disappeared in the crowd.
"Wait!" Harry called desperately after them. "I didn't give those necklaces to them," he said to Ron and Hermione, his eyes on Dakota's retreating back. No answer. He turned to Ron, but no one was there. However, before Harry could attempt to go after them, or the girls, Dobby seized the moment to drag him towards the Portrait Hole.
When he and Dobby arrived at the portrait of the fruit bowl, Harry tickled the pear, not paying much attention to anything but the strange series of events that had just unfolded.
"Harry Potter, sir," Dobby said, pointing a long finger towards the painting. Harry looked up, and saw the silver handle. He yanked on it, and they crawled into the kitchens, where Dobby saluted Harry, and ran off to resume his work on the Christmas feast.
"Ahh, Harry," a soft voice said from behind him. Harry spun around, and saw Dumbledore seated before a comfortable fire, sipping something that resembled a Muggle soda, complete with a crazy straw. "I trust you're wondering why I have called you down to the kitchens, of all places?"
"Um," Harry said, "A little, Professor." Dumbledore smiled, and motioned for him to have a seat. Harry obliged, and watched as the elder wizard took a sip of the pink liquid.
"They call this Seven-Up Plus in the Muggle world," Dumbledore said, twisting the straw delightedly. "Have you encountered such a whimsical drink at your aunt and uncle's?"
Harry nodded.
"Would you care for one?"
Harry shook his head, accompanied by a soft, "No, thanks, Professor."
"Very well," Dumbledore said. "Harry, I had heard, through some valuable sources, that there was talk of a D.A. party?"
"Um," Harry started, "Well, we had planned on-"
"-Harry, Harry," Dumbledore said with a knowing smile, "It's fine. All I wanted to know was, had you planned on serving...what do those Muggles call it?...Ah, yes, finger food?"
"Er-"
"Because the source I am speaking of expressed an interest of personally catering to the party," Dumbledore continued. Just then, Dobby appeared from behind Dumbledore's robes, looking positively delighted.
"Harry Potter, sir! Dobby will help Harry Potter, Dobby promises!"
"Um," Harry said, looking from the house-elf to the older wizard, who was surveying the scene like a grandfather would his grandchildren. "All right?"
"My next question," Dumbledore said, the first bit of his meeting over, "was if you had spoken to Professor McGonagall about possibly being a chaperone?"
"Actually, sir," Harry said, feeling confident now that they had touched base on something he'd already thought of, "That's what Ron and I were going to do at breakfast."
"I see," Dumbledore said, sitting back. "Well, then, Harry, I see no reason to delay the festivities. I shall see you at breakfast, then?"
"Yes, Professor," Harry replied, relieved that their meeting hadn't evolved around Voldemort-related issues. As he stood up to leave, Harry was struck with a thought. "Erm, Professor? You wouldn't happen to want to attend the party as the guest of honour, would you? I mean, the D.A. stands for 'Dumbledore's Army, after all, and I thought maybe the D.A. would want to honour that namesake..."
"I would be delighted," Dumbledore said, nodding his head. Harry had almost gotten all the way outside the kitchens when Dumbledore spoke again. "Your friendship with the girls will aid you, Harry. What you've done for them has tied them to you in ways you probably don't realise."
"Sir?" Harry blinked.
"You are doing well teaching them," Dumbledore said. "I shall see you soon."
"They're really pretty," Madison said, admiring her pendant, a glossy brownish-yellow that had been identified as amber. "I haven't seen Harry anywhere today, though. I wanna thank him."
"You'll get a chance," Alexis said, clasping her own around her neck. Like Madison's, hers was a brownish colour, with red streaks that reminded her of paint. "You all right, Mil?"
"Dandy," came the muffled answer. They had met up in the library, where they had meant to help Millie with her essay for Snape on the Forgetfulness Potion. However, the stubborn girl had refused their help, leaving the rest to their own devices.
"So, tell us why he let you write an essay instead of giving you detention again?" Dakota said, flipping through a tattered book, which had definitely seen better days, labelled Quidditch Through the Ages.
"He said I had the same penchant for Potions that my grandfather Nicolas had," Millie said, her voice drowning out the scratching of her quill.
"Who?" Madison asked.
"My grandfather Nicolas," Millie said. "He was a friend of Dumbledore's. 'Cording to Mum, he's been famous for a while. He's not her father; more like her great-great-great grandfather or something."
"This Nicolas guy was a Potions fan?" Alexis asked, trying to comprehend.
"Yes," Millie said testily. Seeing her friends' shocked faces, she apologised. "Sorry, but I have three hundred and twenty-six words to go." She flipped a page in her text, and smiled. "Hey, here's a picture of him!" She turned the book around so they could see it properly, not noticing the abnormally large rat that ran out from under the book jacket and into the next aisle of dusty books.
"'Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist, outside his home with his wife, Perenelle,'" read Madison. "Neat."
"Your great-grandfather or whoever he was made the Philosopher's Stone?" Alexis asked incredulously. "Are you kidding?"
Millie shook her head.
Dakota, Madison, and Alexis exchanged awed looks. "Mint!" Madison crowed. The others stared at her. "Um, cool?" she said lamely. The rest of the girls stared some more, hiding smiles.
"Is that like, an American thing?" Millie asked, giggling.
"Fine, make fun of me!" Madison said dramatically. "I see that I have erred in choosing my friends wisely. Ah, Madam Oppenheim, what would you do if you saw me now?"
"She'd run in terror," Alexis said dryly.
"Either that, or she'd hit you upside the head for speaking to your friends in such a manner," a chuckling Millie added.
Madison banged her head on the tabletop, before lifting it again with a wicked grin. "And don't you have an essay to be finishing, missy?" she pointed out. "Or did you...forget?"
"Haha," Millie deadpanned. "It is to laugh."
"Come on, Mil," complained Dakota. "The faster you scribble, the faster we can go to the party." She clasped her hands under her chin and glanced upward lovingly. "And you know who'll be there."
"You-Know-Who?" joked Millie.
"No... his name is...Trenton!" Dakota said in a sing-song voice. "The lovely third-year you chatted up, remember?" Judging by the surmounting blush on Millie's face, she clearly did remember.
"Yup," Millie said, picking up her quill again. "You three need therapy, you know."
"And that's what makes us the center of the party that is life!" Madison said grandly, throwing her arms wide.
"Either that, or you've been spending a little too much time being near Broadway," Alexis said, throwing a piece of parchment at her. Madison glared at her, and chucked it back, missing Alexis and hitting Dakota in the nose.
"OY!"
"It's about bleeding time you finished," Dakota grumbled, taking each stair slowly, so not to miscalculate and fall through the trick step. "Twenty-three, twenty-four, there we go!" She hopped over the twenty-fifth step.
"It's not like I had a choice," Millie replied, skipping the step as well. "It was a five hundred word essay, not some scribble-off."
"Uh-huh, we know. That doesn't give you an excuse to dawdle," Madison said with a mischievous smile.
"Who uses the word 'dawdle' anymore?" Alexis sneered good-naturedly, sliding her hand up the rail.
"I happen to," Madison retorted, flipping her dark ponytail. "Is that a problem?"
"With me, or the rest of the population?"
A fat, balding man, Peter Pettigrew had been on the run for the greater part of the last two decades. Not proud of many of his actions, especially those concerning his former friends, the traitorous Wormtail found that he had to be at least a tiny bit amazed at his own ability to sneak around without being recognised. As he climbed the steps leading to the great stone altar, he ran over his possible, almost inevitable reward for ensuring the Dark Lord's plans went smoothly.
As he neared the top, his rodent instincts told him that the treacherous snake, Nagini, was present, along with his Master. Shivering involuntarily, Wormtail crossed over the last stair, bowing low.
"Wormtail," the high voice cut through the night air like the guillotine's blade would a victim's flesh. "I trust you were able to secure the...gifts?"
"Yes, My Lord," he shivered. "It has been done."
"And?" Two long, pale fingers raised, posed to snap.
"The four of them are wearing the pendants!" Wormtail said hurriedly, looking from the fingers to the large reptile slithering past and back again. "The locator has been ready for weeks now, My Lord. Now, if the device is activated, the locations of the four will show on the transmitter."
"Excellent." The voice breathed. "You please me, Wormtail. Soon, we shall strike, and we will be able to get rid of Potter, once and for all, with his dear mother's gift on our side!"
Through the foggy Christmas air, coming from one of many islands off the coast, shrieks could be heard long into the night.
A/N: Ta-da! Yes, it is excellent, isn't it? My dear moldie Voldie has a way with words, don't you agree? You betcha! Now that you have a slight idea what's going on... Not for long! Shut UP, Siaryst! I swear, I can't tell you ANYTHING! Au contraire, mon ami. You told me just last week that you lo- SHUT UP! I told you not to tell anyone that I like pickles on toast! Hey, you said it, I didn't. Dufoli runs after a startled and giggling Siaryst with a large meat cleaver REEEVVVIEEWW!
The Still Notably Strange, Siaryst-Dufoli
