They were professionals. Professionals so perfect at their task that the wizarding world would've stooped to nigh any price to acquire their skills. Competence bred competence, and theirs was of the highest order – even amongst their own.

"Power series?"

"Check."

"Distraction?"

"Check."

"Monitoring?"

"Check."

"Target?"

"Luna is situated with the distraction, observers standing by."

Harry relaxed from his point of vigilance. The pair of massive Christmas trees were situated at opposing corners of the main room, providing vantage points for trained pixies and surveillance charms alike; he himself sat before the fireplace, comfortable in a large armchair. There were certain pains to avoid the plushy sort of armchair Dumbledore might've conjured; this one was of green leather, yet comfortable in the extreme.

"Golden-Eye, are you in position?" his wand tapped a casual pattern on the simple elegance mounted at his side. The runic-ensorcelled construct made clicking sounds before another voice emerged from its depths.

"Yes."

He paused, before tapping the same switch once again. "Are you good to go, Golden-Eye?"

Another moment of silence followed the question. "Yes."

Harry considered the matter, then shrugged, tapping the next illumination sequence. "Cuddles, report."

An irritated growl responded.

"Cuddles …?" he let a warning tone enter his voice.

The snarl turned into a human voice, although the emotional content failed to change. "I'm not going to accept that name. Come up with something else."

"You agreed to the bet," Harry pointed out, easing back a touch. "No one forced you to offer your animagus nickname as collateral."

"Who studies Pureblood pet names? It was rigged!"

"It could've been worse," Harry checked the grandfather clock, its stolid ticking measuring the passage of time. "Sparkles has been studying Greek history."

"So?" the irritated voice responded.

"Sometime you should look up the modern translation for Hade's watchdog," Harry said drily. "Report."

"All approaches normal. Plato is sweeping the driveway, but that's it."

Harry's fingers continued through the channels, reaching the final point. He took a moment to center himself, and dropped his tone a little. "Talk to me."

"Calipers are ready, Operation Bubblegum ready to roll!"

The young man closed is eyes. "Thank you, Blank. The audio receiver is working as planned?"

"So it seems. Operative Inquisitor is standing by, just in case."

"Excellent." Harry palmed the voice-activated conveyance from his collar, muting its input. "Hermione, are you there?"

"Here," the young woman looked up from her heavy tome, before resuming her studies. "On task."

"Good," Harry let his gaze rest on her for a few moments. "Study hard."

Satisfied, he wandered to the tall windows facing the external courtyard. The grasses were long since vanished beneath the deepening snow, a hardy species grown for the explicit purpose of limited manor-style appearance. While magical, they were as durable as many trees, and self-trimmed whenever the overseer decreed.

Wind gusted another spray of near-invisible powder, the fragmented bits of snow dissolving against protections set in the windows. Picturesque amounts of frost appeared on the glass's inside, just enough to display rime-covered edges, yet not blocking a casual viewer's field of vision. Lights of multiple hues sparked outdoors, swaying on snow-layered branches, luminescent under the pitch-black skies.

Sighing, Harry moved to another window, a quarter the way across the room. From that position he could see the ocean – or would, if the swirling gusts allowed visual passage, or that the velvet darkness blending sea and sky allowed. It felt right, watching the ocean from inside a magical domicile, on an island in the middle of the ocean.

"Luna is moving, repeat: Luna is moving!"

The interruption to his thoughts was unwelcome. Time for reflection was not often had, in his experience. Nonetheless he swept back to the chair, affixing the communication device once more. "Confirm location."

"Cancel last, cancel last," the voice responded. "Luna is returning to the distraction – banana flavor? Who in their right mind would –"

"It works," Harry interjected, quiet but firm. "Stay on target."

"Understood," the voice sighed. "She's worse than Ron sometimes …."

He stifled a chuckle at the comparison. "Three hours, Ginger. Stay strong."

Another sigh echoed across the connection before cutting off. It seemed the practice was spreading – or the group was becoming interdependent to the point where mannerisms were syncing together. Harry vaguely understood similar things happened with other female biological factors, but shoved the thought into a locked part of his mind, content to remain ignorant of certain things.

Time passed, the darkened sky losing any last vestiges of color. The utter depth grew, clouds flowing away like eroding piles of sand. Stars populated the heavens, packing more and more tiny sparks of scintillating light until the only place devoid of their presence was a pale strip along the northern horizon.

Harry paid a little more attention when the paleness seemed to grow.

"Golden-Eye … look north. Do you see something?"

The pale streak seemed to divide itself, folding and unfolding into streams of faint glimmers. What could've been mistaken as the faintest, most wispy of clouds became unmistakable jets of green, fading and brightening in impossible patterns.

Despite himself, Harry felt his eyebrows rise. This was unusual – he sensed no ill-intent from the display, or even magic at all.

A quiet gasp emanated from his elbow. "It's beautiful!"

He looked down at Hermione, then back out the window. "What is it?"

"Aurora Borealis," Daphne's irritated tone had softened into quiet wonder. "The Northern Lights. I haven't seen them so bright before."

Harry agreed. The Orkneys were an incredible place to view such sights, but never before to this degree. Brilliant yellow hues, tinged with crimson edges, danced around the green curtains; faint crackles penetrating the soundproofed walls. Some of the lights poured like liquid, cascading across the sky in undulating waves. More rippled at what seemed to be higher altitudes, snapping and waving in counterpoint.

"I wonder if Santa can fly through that?" A new voice spoke.

Harry felt his shoulders slump. "Hello, Luna. Did you enjoy the pudding?"

"Yes!" a faint slurping noise demonstrated the presence of both a spoon and a massive bowl. "I like your distractions."

"Good …" Harry watched the skies for a long moment more, then took reluctant steps back to the broadcast unit. "Ginger, come on up. She's enjoying the lightshow with us."

"Dammit!" a series of less lady-like terms spewed from the sound-giver. "I didn't turn my back!"

Harry sighed. "I know. Come on up, you're missing it."

There was a light sound, of pattering feet skittering along the floor, claws failing to find purchase on enchanted hardwood. Another soft bumping noise, like a warm body thudding into a wall, and then he could feel the effervescent tang of Ginny's animagus transformation. It wasn't an obvious experience, one only those in close proximity, exceptional senses, and repeated exposure could detect.

The red-haired young woman jogged into the room, brown eyes fastening on him as soon as she entered. "Show?"

Harry wordlessly pointed to the windows, where the billowing incandescence could be seen. Despite the lighting inside, there was no mistaking the incredible sight.

There was a mild commotion near one of the doors, and a burst of cool air. House Elf magic snapped into being, buffering away any hint of moisture daring its presence, while accepting a weatherproof cape. The cause of the disturbance stalked into the room, gimlet eyes staring at the small group.

"Hello, Daphne," Luna's innocent expression flickered in the changing light. "Did you see anything interesting?"

The Greengrass Heiress glared at her. "I was in the cold wind for hours. Hours. All because you can't keep yourself under control when it's Christmas Eve. I will be fortunate if I don't catch a cold from this."

A faint popping sound found a narrow-edged jar winding up in Daphne's hand. Cartoonish-style smoke plumes emanating from a stylized head hinted at its contents, if one were incapable of reading Pepper-Up beneath the image.

"Ooh, go ahead. You're already steamed, now it'll match!" Luna bounced a little, but kept tight hold of the pudding bowl.

The other young woman sniffed, then drank the entire contents in a single pull. Her glare faltered when the resulting twin spirals of steam shot from her ears, blasting hair in all directions. It was an amusing sight, if Luna and Ginny's laughter was any indicator; Harry's own smirk couldn't be restrained either, it seemed.

An uninhibited gasp caught their attention once more. Hermione pointed outside. "There's blue! Red at the higher altitudes, but I haven't seen blue like that before! Is it … are we …?"

"Getting Alex," Ginny shot away from the group, headed for the stairs. "She won't want to miss this."

Mumbled agreement rippled, fading away. All eyes were glued to the spectacular sight, which appeared to be drifting even closer. By now the multi-hued changes were filling the entire horizon, sliding overhead like dragons made of clouds, filled with sunsets' last glories. The faint crackling stayed vague, indefinable, but the sheer impact held a subtle presence just outside their hearing. It felt like some vast orchestra was playing in another room, soft but powerful.

"That looks sorta like an … arrow?" Hermione pointed at another formation. "But it's green and red. How …?"

The group studied the approaching phenomenon. Its floating presence seemed innocent, but careful examination required attention, just in case.

But Ginny's returning footsteps caught their attention. "Wow, did Santa come already?"

Harry spun, lightshow forgotten. Behind his back, his carefully watched back it had to be noted, the Christmas Tree closest to the fireplace had been altered. Presents spilled out from beneath its lowest branches, scattered like an ocean wave caught mid-action. The plate of cookies, as tradition required, was gone – likewise the glass of milk.

Luna's reaction exceeded his own.

"No! Noooo! He got away with all the presents! My precious …!" Luna dashed to the chimney, peering up its depths. "I will get you yet, Santa Claus! Old Saint Nick! Kris Kringle! Sinterklass! Papa Noel!"

A final figure entered the room. While of similar age to the rest, her violet-eyed gaze bespoke sardonic amusement. The cynicism faded as she took in the sight, Harry and the others staring at a young Luna, whom knelt dangerously close to the fireplace, shouting into empty brickwork. There was a bowl of pudding lying on the ground, tilting at a dangerous angle, a single solitary droplet threatening to fall upon the floor.

"Did I miss something?" Alex asked. "It kinda feels like I missed something."