Weeks pass with no word from Bill. I practice my dueling spells relentlessly, until I think I could do them in my sleep. Rowan is eager to learn new spells, and I even persuade her to duel me a few times.

Alana is finally released from the Hospital Wing two weeks after being struck by the door. Madam Pomfrey says that she's recovered, but to my eyes, she still looks a bit pale. I insist that she takes the chair closest to the fireplace while Rowan and I catch her up on everything that's happened. I tell her about training with Bill, and inform her that under no circumstances is she to enter the frozen corridor again.

"I'm in no hurry to go back there," Alana says, shivering despite the heat of the fire. I'm glad I won't have to persuade her to stay safe. It's bad enough that I'm dragging Bill into this.

Rowan changes the subject. "What are your plans for the holidays? My parents invited all of you over."

I visited the Khannas tree farm last year. The house was a decent size, but not big enough for all of us. "Do you mean just us-" I gesture to myself and Alana "-or Ben and Penny too?"

"Everyone." Rowan smiles happily. "My parents can't believe I have so many friends. They're excited to have company. We don't get many visitors who aren't customers."

We'll be tripping over each other, I think, but I don't voice this thought. "Have you told Ben and Penny yet?"

Rowan shakes her head. "I'll tell them at lunch."

"All right." We spend the rest of the morning catching Alana up on the homework she missed. Even though she was injured, she still has to do it.

Alana frowns as she pages through her Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. "Do you think the job really is jinxed?"

"I don't know," Rowan says. "Professor Gibson was only around for one year, and I doubt Professor Jordan will stick around, but that could be just because neither of them is very good."

"If it was jinxed, surely Professor Dumbledore would have broken it by now," I say. He's the most powerful wizard alive. I can't believe any magic could resist him for so long.

I've finished my homework, so I carry my textbooks and essays upstairs to the dormitory. Helena Ross is sprawled on her bed, painting her nails. She doesn't look up when I enter.

I place the textbooks back in my trunk and pull out a new piece of parchment. I can't forget to write to Nola again.

Alana is still working on her Defense Against the Dark Arts essay when I return. To make up for being an incompetent teacher, Professor Jordan has been assigning a ridiculous amount of homework. Since we're allowed to work on it during class, it's not really that bad, but it will be a struggle for Alana to catch up. Rowan is reading Hogwarts; A History for the umpteenth time. I think she's hoping to have it memorized by the time we leave Hogwarts.

I start writing a letter to Nola, explaining that once again, I won't be coming home for Christmas. I think of all the Christmases we've spent together. Her family puts their Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. It's hung with strands of multicolored lights that have to be attached to the wall. Every year, we would make new ornaments to hang on the tree. I brought one with me. It contains a picture of us in front of her tree. We're kneeling in the middle of the wrapping paper strewn around the floor, with our arms draped around each other's shoulders. We are smiling, showing off Nola's crooked teeth and my straight ones. This is from the last Christmas before Jacob disappeared, the last Christmas when my world was whole.

I smile at the letter, but now there's a hint of sadness to it. Even if I find Jacob, I will never again be the child I was in that picture. If only he hadn't gone looking for the vaults. If only he'd stopped searching once he'd been expelled. If only… I could wish for a thousand things, but none of them can bring Jacob home. Only I can do that.

I finish my letter to Nola and write one to my parents, asking for permission to visit Rowan's for Christmas again. Before going to the Owlery, I slip upstairs and find the ornament. I slip it into the pocket of my robes. It hangs there, not heavy, but with enough weight that I notice it's presence.

I tell Rowan and Alana where I'm going, and then I leave the common room. This year, I'm glad for the presence of winter. It makes the cold that pervades Hogwarts seem more natural.

I tie my letters to the leg of an Eagle Owl and direct it to my house. Dad will give Nola her letter. I watch the owl fly away, wondering how it would feel to glide through the air like a bird. I don't think I would like it very much. While I'm not afraid of heights, I never loved flying classes last year.

Boarding the Hogwarts Express makes me realize just how cold the castle has become. It feels like stepping into a sauna. How cold can it get before we all freeze? Which poses the bigger risk, the ice or the cold?

The five of us find a compartment together, uncomfortably warm in the sweaters we've gotten accustomed to wearing under our robes. Fortunately, we'll be changing into Muggle clothes soon.

Penny is dragged away several times by groups of giggling girls who barge into our compartment. With all the interruptions, it's impossible to discuss the vaults, but I don't mind. The holidays are for relaxing. Besides, I can't do anything until I hear something from Bill.

We're met at the station by Rowan's parents and Finch, and I'm suddenly flooded by memories of how we got to the farm last year. "Are we taking the Knight Bus again?" I whisper to Rowan.

Rowan smirks. "Yeah."

We haul our trunks to an empty area of the station. Rowan sticks her hand out. The Knight Bus appears with a bang, as big and purple as I remember.

Stan Shunpike, who I remember from last year, jumps out of the bus. He draws himself up, trying to look more important. Unfortunately, he's standing right in front of the door.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this evening." Finally, he steps out of the way, allowing us to pull our considerable amount of luggage onto the bus.

Just like I remember from last year, the bus is filled with an arrangement of identical beds. We search around until we find a large group on the second deck.

With another bang, we're all thrown flat on our backs. Instead of sitting back up, I roll over onto my side and prop myself on one elbow. Maybe this way, I'll be thrown around less.

Ben and Penny both look slightly green, and I hope that neither of them throws up. Behind me, I hear the sounds of retching as some other poor person can't hold onto the contents of their stomach.

Fortunately, we make it through the trip without anyone throwing up. Ben and Penny both look relieved to see the Knight Bus disappear after we've gotten our trunks and Primrose off.

Alana and Penny decide to share the bed in the guest room. I offer Ben the couch, leaving me with the floor. Rowan's parents bring out sleeping bags for Ben and I, and we unroll them.

My dreams that night are peaceful for once, filled with memories of Christmases that have already passed. As pleasant as they are, it troubles me to think of how few happy memories I have from recent years.

We exchange presents on Christmas morning. When I open Rowan's, another book, I swear I can hear Jacob's voice in my head, wishing me a Merry Christmas. I duck my head and pretend that the tears forming in my eyes are from pure happiness.

Afterwards, Rowan's mum presents us with a plate of cookies frosted with red and green. I take a bite of one. The cookies are delicious, but what I really love is the frosting. Frosting improves everything it touches.

I giggle as I imagine smearing a thick layer of frosting over Hogwarts and solving all of my problems. My friends look at me oddly, but we're all used to each other's weirdness by now, so I attract nothing more than that.

The days until the end of the year pass uneventfully. Rowan's house doesn't feel as crowded as I expected. We alternate between exploring the rows of trees and helping Finch make slime.

As the clock counts down on 1983, we gather in their backyard and set up an assortment of Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous, Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks. Finch watches us, valiantly struggling to keep his eyes open.

Ten… nine… eight… Finch's eyelids droop. He shakes his head violently, as if he's hoping to dislodge his exhaustion. I smile.

Seven… six… five… Rowan shifts the bucket of water in her arms.

Four… three… two… one. Rowan throws the water over the fireworks. I look up, watching the explosion of white and blue and purple. Finch isn't struggling to stay awake any more. His eyes are wide open as he stares up at the crackling colors.

It is midnight on January first, 1984. I am watching vibrant colors explode against a black sky, surrounded by friends I thought I would never have. I have so much, and yet so much is missing.