For copyright and disclaimers, please see chapter 1

14 – Interlude Two, Second Year
Sunday, November 28, 1999:
Hogwarts, Great Hall, Gryffindor table: 09:11
"Come on, Felicia! They won't bite…err…" Amanda said.

"Good choice of phrase, mate," Andrew said with a grin. "Look, Felicia, we rotate which table we sit at. This is the fourth week of the month, so we meet at the Slytherin table. You've missed a couple days; this is the best way to get caught up."

"But… I was so horrible to them!"

Andrew glanced at Amanda, "Yes, you were," he said. "Did you apologize to Sprink?" Felicia nodded, Andrew continuing, "They're good people, and we all make mistakes. We'll be there for you." Felicia sighed and nodded, and allowed herself to be led.

Mattie yawned as she walked into the Great Hall, Sprink bouncy and chipper, chattering about something beside her. "G'morning," she mumbled, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She sighed, took another gulp; then waved her cup in salute, "Morning, Felicia. Feeling better?"

Felicia nodded; she had been depressed when she heard about her father, suicidal when Cornelius Fudge, her godfather, had disowned her. Sprink had managed to snatch her wand when she had received the curt note before she could perform Avada on herself. Amanda had kept her wand; this was the first attempt at socialization she had made. The Ministry had compounded the insult when it bureaucratically confiscated her late father's estate. She was now homeless and destitute.

"Professor McGonagall talked to me," Felicia said in a small voice. "She asked if I wanted to stay here over the hols. Where else would I go?" The Ministry hadn't allowed Felicia to reclaim any of her property from her former home, in a bizarre twist of logic reasoning that since she had been Bitten, she was in violation of the registration of Dangerous Creatures act, and her house and contents were thus Ministry property. The fact that the Dangerous Creatures office had been closed weeks earlier and she could not register was irrelevant to the Ministry bureaucrat that had forbid her access. Minerva was trying to adopt Felicia, but even with legal assistance, it was slow going. Adding to the problems was the 'fact' that Minerva was officially unemployed, and was illegally occupying her Hogwarts quarters.

"Professor Flitwick does Christmas up right," one of the twins said, "What about your House tree? You blokes have one set up?"

"Green and silver are not the best colors for a Christmas tree," Mattie admitted. "Of course, heaven forbid that we use other colors, like, oh, red or gold."

"Just wouldn't be right at all," Sprink confirmed, and Felicia gave a small smile. "Of course, blue and bronze might not look bad."

"Or yellow and black?" Felicia offered hesitantly.

"Why don't we find out?" Charlie asked, flipping his Herbology book closed. "I don't want to study today. We'll go to all four common rooms; then we can vote."

"Can't vote for your own house, though," one twin said.

"Sounds fair," Andrew said. "You lot know where we are? Fifteen minutes, give us time to dump our books and meet there."

"First time I've been in the Gryff common room," Mattie confided to Felicia. "I had a tour before first-year with Ginny, I saw Ravenclaw then. I saw Hufflepuff last year when I had to drop off books for Professor Sprout, and again this year." Up at the top of the stairs, Andrew whispered the password to a portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress. She opened, giving Mattie and the others a frown. "I don't know you."

"We're touring each common room," Felicia told her. "We're going to vote on which house has the best Christmas tree."

"Gryffindor, of course, but I have to admit to bias," the portrait said. "In you go, dears."

"There you are," Professor McGonagall said, spying Felicia. "Please come see me later." She raised her eyebrow, asking, "What's going on?"

"We're touring each common room; then we'll vote on the best tree," Charlie said.

"Capital idea, Mr. Adams!" Minerva said. "Keep ideas in mind, Hagrid will be setting up the year trees today." At their questioning looks, she said, "It's an idea we decided to revive. Each year has a tree to decorate. They'll be in the entrance hall." She motioned to the Gryffindor tree, adding, "Personally, I thought the snitches flying about were a bit over the top, but the students decorate it. At least they're golden."

On the way to Ravenclaw, Arthur said loudly, "I go up and down stairs all day long, I'm not going down and then back up unless I have to." Their tree seemed to glow, the light reflecting off the bronze and the small ever-burn candles gave a warm feeling.
"Which one next?" Andrew asked. "Slytherin, somewhere in the dungeons, or Hufflepuff?"

"Slytherin's not that far, then we can go to Hufflepuff and then to the Great Hall for lunch," Charlie said.

"Works for us," Sprink said, leading off.

The Slytherin tree was elegant. Tasteful, the tree had tiny ever-burn candles placed throughout, light reflecting off the silver icing and crystal ornaments. Presents lay underneath on a white skirt of snow, wrapped in green velvet with silver thread.

"Ooh, pretty!" Felicia and the twins cooed. Karen looked up, smiled, and said, "Thanks. What are you lot doing?"

"Voting on which house has the best tree," Charlie said. He shook his head, "So far, I'm afraid Hufflepuff isn't going to measure up."

"We haven't seen it yet!"

"We have," Arthur said sourly. "It doesn't."

Hufflepuff's was a live tree, somehow planted in the common room floor. It towered through the ceiling, decorated with berries and ferns, something that reminded Mattie of Poison Ivy. It was pretty in an 'au natural' style, but didn't have the warmth of Ravenclaw or the icy perfection of Slytherin.
Wednesday, December 1, 1999:
London, Ministry of Magic, Minister of Education's office: 07:28
"Oh, Minister Weasley, thank Merlin you're here!" the secretary sobbed, jumping up to hug the young man.

"Thank you, Betty, but I wasn't gone that long," he awkwardly patted her on the back. "Please get me a nice cuppa and send Edward in, would you?"

"You… you don't know?"

"Know what? Owls haven't been able to get through the storms the last few days. What's happened?"

"Minister…Minister Hansen is dead!" Betty broke down in a fresh spate of tears, while Percy Weasley sat heavily in a wooden chair, umbrella in one hand, hat in the other, and stared at nothing.

Wednesday, December 1, 1999:
Hogwarts, Staff room: 08:11
"It is inexcusable, Albus!" Minerva said, slapping the table. "You were going to try to out-talk politicians while they planned to kill werewolves? Including our students?"

"It is a good thing the Pimpernel happened by," Harry said.

Albus raised his hands, "I am sorry, so very sorry for misjudging the situation. I never for a moment believed Cornelius Fudge would sanction wholesale murder." He sighed, "Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa," resting his face in his hands.

"What of Miss Hansen?" Severus inquired.

"Miss Leeds is retaining her wand until she is convinced she is no longer a threat to herself," Minerva said. "Please bear that in mind regarding her instruction and homework, hmm?" Heads nodded, and Minerva continued, "I would mention that until the Ministry dunderheads release her father's estate, she is both homeless and penniless. You might wish to add her to your Christmas lists, the poor dear needs everything." Heads nodded again, as Minerva thought of the strange envelope that had come to her via Gringott's owl, addressed to Felicia but marked 'Do not open until December 25th'. It had been sealed in red wax, with a small flower imprint.

To: Lee Fook (Hogwarts)
From: Mom
Date: December 1, 1999
Subject: Christmas visit!

Hi, honey!

I hope things are going well for you, and that you're studying hard. I was very pleased with the last note from Professor Snape. He did say you needed to work harder on your spellcasting, but that overall you were doing well, and that it was typical for muggleborn students. I know that you're in a study group, so I know you'll pull those marks up to where we both know you belong.

Just looking at that last paragraph, who would have known a year, or even six months ago, we would be discussing your grades in spellcasting?Here I thought you'd be off to one of the city schools, where the closest you come to witchcraft is discussing the Salem witch trials. Who would have known you were a witch?

Don't forget that if you see the Morton fellow, he's not to know we're flying over with his family. There was apparently a snafu with his father's scheduling, but that's cleared up now. Barring weather delays, we should be getting into Inverness about five p.m. on the 21st. I don't know how long the drive is from the airport to Hogwarts, so I hope to have you in my arms by six!

I have lots of film, and I've found a wizarding photo shop in the East Village that can develop them!

Love,
Mom

Friday, December 3, 1999:
Hogwarts, Great Hall, Slytherin table: 08:31
"Better late than never," Lee said as she shook out the Reporter. Emma raised her eyebrow, mouth full of porridge, Lee explaining, "Fudge is taking credit for re-opening the floo network, 'With payment of a fifty-galleon annual home license, British wizarding transport is once again the fastest and safest in the world.'" she quoted.

"Mmf," Emma replied, swallowing. "Bit rich, that license. Does it give a price for commercial connections?" Lee looked through the article; then shook her head, "Probably a lot more expensive, knowing our Minister." She pointed with her spoon, "Anything on the Hansen murder?"

"Um… Here we are. In the same press conference, Fudge says that 'It has the attention of our finest DMLE investigators.'" Lee snorted, "Good luck."