A/N: Pay attention. Everything happens for a reason. Also, strong language ahead (in scene II).
Recap: Ella figures out that everything that's happened - from the kidnappings, to the sightings of the dark mark - has had some sort of link to Hogwarts. She doesn't want to tell Tabitha James, so Teddy does it in secret, in the form of an anonymous letter. As a result, Tabitha begins to suspect her colleague, Auror Munroe, but has no concrete evidence or further leads. During the Christmas holidays, another child, the son of Dudley Dursley, is kidnapped.
Chapter Thirteen: Christmas Day
Christmas Day can mean a lot of different things to a lot of different people.
On the 25th of December 2013, Riley Carrow would stand up for what she believed was right. Alfie Hayes would wonder where he belonged in the world, and Ella Anderson would question her principles.
On the 25th of December 2013, Teddy Lupin would find that some things never change, and Victoire Weasley would find that some things do.
On the 25th of December 2013, Tabitha James would begin her fall from grace.
On the 25th of December 2013, Arlington Dursley, Melissa Cooper and Leslie Stiles would learn that they had a bigger role to play than any of them had ever imagined.
That Christmas Day meant a lot of different things to a lot of different people. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.
.oOo.
I: Riley
"It's Christmas Day."
She said the words softly as she stared out of the window, her breath forming patches of mist on the icy glass. The Estate always looked different on Christmas, she thought, as she stared out into the entrance courtyard. There was something magical about the way the water flowed from the marble fountain, the way the snowdrops bloomed, the way the evergreen foliage stood out against the stark whiteness of the house.
"Riley."
She looked up to see her mother standing in the doorway. Cecilia Carrow looked an awful lot like her daughter – they had the same sharp green eyes, brown hair, and pale skin. The key difference between them was the shape of their face: Cecilia's was square, characteristic of her Selwyn bloodline, whereas Riley's was sharp and angular, like her father's.
"I thought I would find you here. You always did like the view."
"Mm," Riley responded, turning her attention away from her mother and back to the gardens.
"The Travers are here," said Cecilia. "Isabella is in the upstairs drawing room – I told her you would be right along."
Riley groaned. "Did you have to, mother? It's bad enough that she comes every year for Christmas lunch. Can't she just … I don't know, entertain herself? She's old enough – surely she doesn't need me."
"Darling," Cecilia sighed. She sat down on the window seat next to her daughter, and clasped her hand, linking their fingers together, "I know Isabella isn't your favourite person –"
"That's an understatement."
"—but she is your cousin, nonetheless. And family is family."
Oh believe me, Riley thought, I know.
"I don't understand why they have to come," she grumbled. "I'd much rather it was just you, me and father. It hasn't been just the three of us in ages."
"And I'd much rather that it was just the three of us as well," Cecilia replied. "That way I wouldn't have to run around like a headless hippogriff making sure that the House Elves have cooked the turkey just the way Aunt Frederica likes it, and that the house looks like something out of a picture book, lest your Uncle Cyrus notice that there's a scratch on the grandfather clock that he bought your father and I for our twentieth anniversary."
At this, Riley cracked a smile. "He never has let you live that down, has he?"
"Gracious, no. Every single time I see him, he wants to know whether I've taken it to be repaired."
"You haven't, have you?"
Cecilia smiled and shrugged lightly. "I think it adds charm."
Riley scoffed. "Of course it does."
"My point is, dear, that there are some things we have to do, whether we like them or not. I might not like your aunt and uncle, but we still have them over every Christmas because we must keep up appearances, and Fredrica is your father's sister. And you may not like Isabella, but you are obliged, as a Carrow, as a member of this family to smile, and pretend."
Of course.
"It's just for a day," said Cecilia, squeezing her arm and giving her a pleading look. "You can manage a day, can't you, darling?"
Only it wasn't just a day, was it? It was every single minute of her life so far. All she ever did was smile and pretend – to be happy, to be normal, to be carefree and careless. She was always playing a part. At Hogwarts, she was the unflappable Riley Carrow: sarcastic and biting. She did whatever she could to forget, and make those around her forget, that she was a member of a wizarding family with questionable history. At home, she was Riley, with an emphasis on Carrow: a dutiful member of an elite pureblood family. It felt as if she could never be herself.
Who was she anyway?
Whoever she was, she was not anything like Isabella Travers. That much became apparent very quickly.
Isabella was older: she was sixteen, but looked to be about twenty-one, with long flowing brown curls and big brown eyes framed by perfect lashes. Her skin was creamy and had the glow that came from a well thought-out and regularly adhered-to skincare regime.
She was home educated. She had gone to Hogwarts but had been there barely a week before returning home for reasons that were widely unknown. Riley suspected it was because she had been Sorted into Hufflepuff; although she didn't know for sure, it seemed like a good fit for her older cousin, who was quite an airhead, and had spent the last fifteen minutes nattering on about some Pureblood boy who she'd met at some Pureblood party. Riley was trying rather hard not to fall asleep.
"He was gorgeous," Isabella sighed, "and so very sweet. Such a gentleman – can you imagine, wanting to ask Daddy's permission before asking me out?"
Riley thought that she would instantly break it off with any boy who attempted to do such a thing. What did her parents have to do with who she went out with? It wasn't as if a date was going to lead to marriage.
"Dreamy," she said, irritably.
"Oh, indeed," said Isabella, twirling a lock of long brown hair around her fingers. "I think it'll work out quite nicely. He's a Yaxley, you know."
She'd only mentioned it four times.
"How wonderful."
If Isabella noticed the significant undertone of boredom in Riley's voice, she ignored it."He's the oldest of four boys. Going to inherit the house someday – oh, it's a beautiful house, better than this one, definitely, and even more opulent than our own—"
Could this girl hear herself?
"—perfect for raising a family."
She'd been on one date with this boy, and she was already thinking about children? Merlin.
"Sounds great."
Isabella seemed to pick up on Riley's irritation, for she paused and tilted her head to the side slightly, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized the Slytherin. "Do you have a boyfriend, Riley?"
"Me?" She almost burst out laughing. "No."
"Why not? You don't strike me as the prudish type."
"It isn't that," said Riley. "It's more that…well…" None of them had shown any interest for starters. Liam Rosier had attempted to ask her out in third year, but she'd shot him down very quickly (and, upon reflection, rather harshly – she probably hadn't needed to tell him that she wouldn't go out with someone who had tucked his robes into his underwear in second year and not noticed for a whole day). After that, no one had asked. Victoire, on the other hand, got asked out all the time. At first, Riley had thought that it was just because she was much prettier than her, but the Slytherin had to admit that she, too, was rather striking, albeit in a different way. Victoire was much warmer, though, and friendlier. Riley came off as aloof.
It wasn't as if she could tell Isabella that, however, and the older girl was watching her rather expectantly.
"I don't like any of them," she said, simply. "Hogwarts boys are rather immature."
This seemed to be the right answer, for Isabella smirked in response. "Oh, I understand that. All the Hogwarts boys I've met don't know anything about the real world. I met one the other day who thought that all House Elves should be free, can you imagine that? He was a member of that stupid elf rights group and all he kept going on about was how it was so wrong for them to be bound into servitude and blah, blah, blah."
Riley figured that she ought not to mention that Victoire's aunt was the one who had set up that 'stupid elf rights' group. Instead, she nodded silently.
"He was a half-blood, of course," Isabella continued. "You'd be hard-pressed to find a pureblood who thought like that – we're all very set in our ways, aren't we? And with good reason too."
She spoke with all the confidence of a sixteen-year-old who felt as if she knew all there was to know about the world. It irked Riley, who found overconfidence unattractive.
"What reason would that be?" she asked innocently.
Isabella shot her a look. "The wizarding world," she began officiously, "has, as I'm sure you're aware, dear cousin, worked in a certain way for many years. And everything was just fine. All of the trouble nowadays – these kidnappings, these attacks in London – they're all because the muggleborns think that they can just waltz into this world, our world, with their grand ideas about morality, and change everything. And –"
Isabella continued on, but Riley tuned her out. She had heard this before, but not from Isabella (who she didn't realise had a political bone in her body). It was the kind of thing that she'd heard at her father's parties, talk often exchanged between two (rich, male) purebloods who thought that no one else was listening. It was the kind of prejudiced talk that she had come to expect from certain adults who had grown up in a world different to her own. But it was not the kind of talk she expected from her own generation, certainly not her own cousin.
"Hold on a second," interrupted Riley, holding up a hand.
Isabella looked rather surprised. "Honestly, Riley, did your mother never teach you that interrupting your elders is rather rude? Although I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't – my mother is always saying that –"
"Would you just shut up for a second?"
"Well, of all the—"
"You don't really believe that."
"What?"
"What you were saying earlier," Riley reiterated. "About the muggleborns. You don't really believe that. You're just repeating it."
"I am not."
"You heard someone say it – maybe it was that boyfriend of yours, I don't know – and you're just repeating it, that's all. You don't believe it."
"I'll decide what I believe and what I don't," said Isabella prissily, pushing her long locks of hair over her shoulder. "And I believe that all of the bad things that have happened recently are because of muggleborns. Why else would they have been taken, and not… I don't know, halfbloods?"
"Why…" Riley couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Isabella, for goodness sakes, don't be dumb –"
"I am not! Mother says I'm rather intelligent, actually."
"Well, you're not showing it," snapped the younger girl. "What, you think that the muggleborns wanted to be kidnapped?"
"But it's because of them that the wizard world is fractionated. If it wasn't for muggleborns, we'd all get along fine, wouldn't we?"
"No, I don't think we would!"
"Really?"
"Really. If it wasn't the muggleborns, we'd have found someone else to hate. Maybe it'd be the halfbloods, or maybe we'd just have turned on ourselves, but this isn't their fault."
"So whose fault is it then?" asked Isabella, folding her arms against her chest. "If not the muggleborns, who do you blame, Riley?"
The question struck her off-guard.
She blamed a lot of people for a lot of things. She blamed Cyrus Teller and his friends for hanging her upside down in the corridor. She blamed Tabitha James for never so much as giving her a chance. She blamed the sixth-years who had caused her, at eleven, to become so scared that she had run into the Forbidden Forest at night, hoping to never come back.
But she understood them. She understood why Tabitha had never trusted her. She understood why people at Hogwarts hated her. She understood that her name inextricably linked her to the things that her family had done. Though she had never met her aunt and uncle, she understood that their actions performed in the name of blood purity would be tied to her as long as her last name was Carrow.
It didn't make what Cyrus Teller, or Tabitha, or the sixth-years had done was right, but it made them understandable. Their actions stemmed from the same root cause, from the same group of people who claimed to form the basis of the wizarding world, but were, in truth, responsible for tearing it apart.
"Us," she said, simply. "I blame us."
Isabella looked at her, surprised. There were a few moments of silence before she said, disgust in her voice, "I didn't realise you were such a mudblood lover, Carrow."
There was a time when Riley would have tried to make amends. A time when she would have taken back her words, pretended that she didn't mean them, attempted to recreate the persona of the perfect pureblood daughter.
But now she was tired.
"Funny," she said. "Neither did I."
.oOo.
II: Robards
"For fuck's sake, James…"
"Sir, I'm –"
"Let me tell you something," Gawain Robards said to Tabitha James, at 10AM on the 25th of December, 2013, "before coming here today, I sat by the Christmas tree with my son, and he told me to make a Christmas wish. What did I wish for, you ask?"
"Sir –"
He ignored her. "Was it for a nice, hefty bonus? Was it happiness for my family? Any guesses?"
"Sir –"
"It was for this fucking case to be solved, that's what it was for. And – Merlin knows I must be getting soft in the head – I had a good feeling when I came in today. I thought, naively, that since it was Christmas and all is supposed to be right with the world that my so-called best Auror would have finally gotten a fucking lead. But that must have been too much to ask even goddamn Father Christmas for."
"Sir –"
"Oh, shut up, James." The disgust was plain in his voice. "You've been suspecting Auror Munroe for over a week and you have done nothing about it."
"Well, it isn't like you've taken him off the case!" exclaimed Tabitha, suddenly.
It was very difficult for him not to roll his eyes. "Yes, James, that wouldn't arouse his suspicion at all would it. He is the only person, apart from you, who has been on this case from the beginning. What am I supposed to tell him, that he's off because he's under suspicion? What good would that do?"
"I'm sure you'd be more subtle about it, Sir," she replied cuttingly.
He chose to ignore the dig. "I am sick and tired, James, of you coming in here every morning with nothing to report."
"Take him off the ca—"
"I will not!" he snapped, and she shut up. "I've made my decision, Tabitha, and I'm sticking to it. Obstacles – tiny, insignificant obstacles like this have never gotten in your way before. Do you know why you're on this case?"
She didn't reply.
"Do you?"
"I have some idea."
"Pray tell."
"You think I'm good."
He couldn't suppress the eye roll this time. "Modesty," he told her, "doesn't suit you, James. Yes, it's because I think you're good. It's because I think – or should I say thought – that you were the best. Every single case I've put you on, you've solved, regardless of how difficult it was, or how many walls you had to jump over, or how many people you had to pretend not to care about in order to get the job done. No matter what you've had to do, you've done it, and you haven't batted a bloody eyelid. So what is it about this case that has you in such a mess?"
There was silence.
He watched her closely. She was hard to read, Tabitha James, but years of working with her had taught him to notice the small things – the tiny changes in her demeanour that signaled that something was awry. She was dressed impeccably, her make-up and hair perfect, but her eyes were flecked with red, as if she had been up for hours, working in low light. She held her arms by her side stiffly; her shoulders were tense with stress. He knew that her lack of progress on the case had nothing to do with her not working hard enough – hell, he didn't think he'd ever seen her work so hard – but it was to no avail.
"I don't know," she admitted softly.
He didn't want to ask, but he knew that he had to. "Should I take you off this case?"
Not 'Do you want me to take you off the case?' This wasn't about her feelings. This was about what was best for the case, for the missing kids.
"I don't know."
There was nothing that irritated him more than indecision. "Damn it, James. Give me an—"
"No."
This took him by surprise (although it really shouldn't have, being as familiar with Tabitha's stubbornness as he was). "Why?"
"Because you don't want me off the case."
He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"There's something you aren't telling me."
"Pray tell."
"No. You tell." She folded her arms expectantly. Had it been any other Auror, Robards would have thrown them out of his office immediately for daring to show such gall, but Tabitha…
He'd known since the day that she walked into Auror Training, newly graduated from Hogwarts, but with her mouth set into a thin, determined line, with eyes as hard as if they had seen the world and decided they were unimpressed. He'd known since she'd set records on her final training tests, since she'd solved the Campoy murders in her first month as a fully qualified Auror. When Scrimengour had promoted him to head of the Auror office, he'd told him that there would come a day when he would see something in someone, and he would know.
"I'm retiring."
"What?" The shock was clear on the younger woman's face, and it was clear that whatever she'd been expecting, it wasn't this. "What do you mean you're –"
"I mean that I've been planning on leaving my position. For a while now, actually." He didn't tell her just how long. "I was to hand in my resignation the day after Melissa Cooper went missing but then… well, I couldn't. And I can't. Not until these children are found, not until this whole mess has been resolved. It wouldn't be fair on the people I swore to protect."
Tabitha's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm not just on this case because you think I'm good, am I?"
He almost smiled at this. She was perceptive. "No," he admitted.
"It's a test."
"You could say that."
"And if I pass?"
"You prove to the higher ups that you are worthy of their support. You prove to me that I'm not misplacing my trust. You prove to everyone out there," he gestured to the roof above his head, "that you are the best person to keep them safe." He paused, before gesturing to the portraits behind his desk of the wizards and witches who had occupied this office before him. "And you prove to them that you can carry on their legacy."
"I—" she broke off. "I don't know what to say."
"Don't say anything," he told her. "Do something. Are you sure it's Munroe?"
She hesitated; he could see the doubt in her eyes. "No," she admitted, "but he's the best lead we've got."
"Then get to him," he said. "Do whatever it takes, James. Get to him."
.oOo.
III: Alfie
Alfie Hayes sat at the dining table, not quite sure what he was doing there.
He had every right to be there – after all, it was his house, and he was in his normal seat, nearest to the fireplace. It was lunchtime, and his mother had covered the table in all manner of traditional Christmastime dishes, from turkey, to parsnips, to carrots, to Brussels sprouts (eugh), just as she did every year. And yet never before had Alfie felt so out of place.
It had all begun when earlier that morning, Professor Hayes had announced that he had invited a colleague of his, Dr. Miranda Madden, from the university over for Christmas lunch on account of her having just moved to Oxford (from Cambridge, of all places). It had all gotten worse when said colleague had waltzed in at half past eleven with her husband, and her two children in tow – and an hour later, as is inevitable with academics, they had started to talk about education.
"We were so delighted," Dr. Madden was saying as she helped herself to the roast potatoes, "when Millie and Alexander got their results."
"Mum," Millie Madden said, ducking her head with what Alfie was sure was mock embarrassment. He was sitting opposite the aforementioned children: they were twins, one year older than he was, and attended a rather posh boarding school near London.
"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, Millie, darling. Ten A*'s apiece – we were so proud." She cast an adoring smile at her husband and Alfie felt his stomach sink. He might not attend a muggle school, but he still knew that ten A*'s at GSCE was certainly nothing to be sneezed at.
"Impressive," Professor Hayes said, inclining his head. "If you two keep that up, I see no reason why you shouldn't have a good chance at getting into Oxbridge."
"Oh, Oxford's my absolute dream," sighed Alexander. "I've been wanting to read English here ever since I was born. Millie, on the other hand is a Cambridge girl through and through. I've tried convincing her but –"
"I don't think I'll change my mind," the other finished for him, smiling at Professor Hayes. "I'm deciding between the new Human, Social and Political Sciences course and History – they both sound incredibly fascinating."
Or incredibly boring, Alfie thought, taking a sip of water. This entire conversation felt so irrelevant to him; he didn't take GSCEs, he wasn't going to go to Oxbridge. As the adults continued to fawn over the twins and their academic prospects, he moved his carrots absentmindedly around his plate with his fork – something his mother would usually tell him off for, if she wasn't so busy focused on the new arrivals.
He was therefore entirely unprepared when the attention turned to him.
"Alfie," his father said sharply. He looked up from his plate with a start.
"Pardon me?"
"Dr. Madden asked you a question."
He turned red. "I'm sorry, Dr. Madden, I'm afraid I didn't hear you."
"Oh, that's quite alright," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "Your father's told me so much about what a bright boy you are –"
At this, Alfie had to suppress a snort. Yeah right. His father was always lecturing him about how he needed to bring up his school grades if he wanted to get anywhere in life.
"—that, well, I was just wondering what you were planning on doing after school. You must be having to pick your A-levels soon, so you must have given it some thought."
And that was when everything fell to pieces.
Alfie stared at Dr. Madden who looked back at him with bright, expectant eyes, not unlike a primary school teacher trying to coax an answer out of a reluctant five-year-old. He opened his mouth, but found that no words came out – his mind was completely blank. It was almost like he was in an exam that he hadn't studied for, like he was staring at the question paper, desperately trying to think of anything, anything at all. But nothing came to mind.
"I don't know," he said at last.
There was silence at the table. This, he realized, was clearly the wrong answer. Millie and Alexander were looking at him with slightly shocked expressions and Dr. Madden appeared taken aback. They, he thought bitterly, had probably had their lives planned out since they were in the cradle.
"What Alfie means to say," Professor Hayes said hurriedly, shooting a worried glance at his wife, "is that he's very stuck between two options – much like you, Millie."
"Oh," Dr. Madden smiled. "Yes, that I can understand. What would those options be, Alfie?"
His father shot him an expectant look. He hesitated for a moment. "Er –history. Yeah, I love history and I'm quite good at it but I'm also very fond of … um, maths."
"Those are really different," Alexander said, his eyes narrowed slightly.
"We know," Professor Hayes cut in, "Alfie's just…an all-rounder, really. So he can't decide whether to do the arts or the sciences."
"I do sympathise," said Dr. Madden, placing a hand over her heart and smiling sadly at Alfie. "I think the A-level system is rather unfair to students like you. In fact, Timothy," she turned back to Alfie's father, "you haven't thought about putting him in the International Baccalaureate, have you? Because Millie was thinking about it, and I actually think it seems to be quite a good system."
The conversational focus now away from him, Alfie sank back into his chair, hoping he could simply blend into the background until the Madden family left.
And while the lunch did eventually come to an end, and the Madden's did leave the Hayes household, Alfie couldn't get Dr. Madden's question out of his head. He stood in the living room as his parents waved goodbye to their guests, staring at the baubles on the Christmas tree. Although he'd only sat under it that morning, unwrapping gifts, it suddenly felt like an eon ago.
I was just wondering what you were planning on doing after school.
What was he planning on doing after school?
He simply hadn't given it any thought. It was the sort of thing that he figured would just fall into place. After all, the muggle world had such a clear process: school, university, a job. Now that he thought about it, he realized he didn't really have a clue what the wizarding world was like. University certainly didn't seem to be as big of a thing, or he would have heard about it. He knew that you needed to undergo medical training in order to be a Healer, which he did not want to do, for he couldn't brew a potion to save his own life, but that was about it.
The uncertainty scared him.
It wasn't even as if he could come home. There might have been an established system in the muggle world but it had hit him that he was excluded from it and the safety, the predictability that it offered. He hadn't gone to an established secondary school. He wouldn't do GSCEs and A-levels, he would do O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s instead. And although he didn't think he ever would come back to the muggle world, even if given the choice, for it would be too much of a waste to leave magic behind, it was terrifying to think that he was to spend the rest of his life in a world that he truly knew very little about.
For while Teddy had grown up in the wizarding world, and Ella had known about it since she was a baby, Alfie had only found out that magic was real when Professor Flitwick had shown up on his doorstep with his Hogwarts letter. His only true experience with the magical world was at Hogwarts, for each vacation, he returned to a normal, muggle existence. When it came down to it, he thought, he'd been living a kind of half-life – not truly magical, not truly muggle, but caught in-between, in a sort of limbo.
He liked to think that it would get better, but there was a nagging feeling in his stomach that made him wonder whether it would.
He read the Daily Prophet. He knew, despite the attempts of the Hogwarts staff and his friends to keep it from him, that muggleborns had never been truly accepted in the wizarding world. While he had been lucky enough never to experience the prejudice for himself, he knew that there were those out there who believed that wizards like him had no place in magical society, that they deserved to be stripped of their wands and cast out. What better evidence for the existence of such views than the recent kidnappings? And to think that no one had been convicted, that the Ministry still had no idea who was behind them …
What if a time came when the wizarding world decided they no longer wanted him? What was he to do then?
"Alfie, darling, there's some leftover Christmas pudding in the fridge if you'd—" Alfie's mother stopped abruptly upon seeing her son standing rigidly. "Alfie?" she said softly, approaching him and placing her hands gently on his shoulders. "What's wrong, honey?"
He shook his head. There was a time when he would have told her, poured his heart out to her, but this… he just didn't think she would understand. It was hard enough, having a son who was different, who was slowly moving out of her world and into another that she could never be a part of. He didn't want to add to that burden.
"Nothing," said Alfie, forcing a smile. An idea suddenly occurred to him. "Would you and dad mind if I used the phone? I just realized that I haven't wished my friends yet."
"Of course not," his mother said warmly. "Go right ahead."
"Thanks," he grinned, this time for real.
"Hello, Anderson residence, Ashton speaking!" said a cheery voice from the other end of the phone.
"Merry Christmas, Ashton," said Alfie. He had met Ella's brother once and had rather liked him. "Could I speak to Ella, please?"
"Who's calling? Are you her boyfriend?"
"Is it Leo?" Alfie heard a muffled female voice say in the background.
"Er, no," said Alfie. "It's Alfie. I'm her friend. From school. We've met, actually, I don't know if you remember but –"
"Oh, yeah, no, Alfie, hey! Of course I remember you. Ella's right here, in fact, I – hey!"
"Sorry," Ella's voice came over the phone and Alfie felt his spirits lift almost immediately. "Ashton got to the phone before I could and –"
"I was going to give it to you!" Ashton complained.
Ella ignored him. "Merry Christmas, Alfie! I was waiting for your call – how's your day been?"
"Meh. Not brilliant." He hesitated briefly, wondering whether or not to burden her with the details. He'd called her because he knew that out of all of his friends, she was the most likely to understand – Teddy would try, but he wouldn't relate in the same way that Ella, who had also grown up torn between the muggle and wizarding world, would be able to. But at the same time, he didn't want to dampen her mood by relating his confused feelings.
"Spill," she demanded.
"Are you sure? Because it is Christmas and –"
"Do I sound like I care, Alfie?"
"No," he mumbled.
"Spill."
And so it all came out. Alexander and Millie's perfect GSCE grades, Dr. Madden's questions, his worries about muggleborn prejudice and where he belonged in the world. He talked, and Ella, to her credit, listened quietly, making the occasional monosyllabic sound to reassure him that she was still paying attention.
When he was done, there was silence for a few moments. He suddenly felt silly – he shouldn't have called Ella up to tell her all of this, not on Christmas. It didn't really matter, and she was probably wondering why he'd opened up his heart to her. He opened his mouth to apologise when she said, softly, "I get it."
This took him aback slightly. "You do?"
"Yeah," she said. "When I got my Hogwarts letter, I didn't know whether I'd… fit in in the magical world, given my family. That's why I didn't, why I don't tell anyone about Mum or Ashton. And I get that fear that you have, because I'm terrified that when I apply for jobs, people are going to run background checks and see what they are, and judge me because of it. These kidnappings, they've made that fear so much worse for me, too."
"What are we supposed to do?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know," she admitted. "But…oh Merlin, this is going to sound so cheesy, but I guess at this point in time the only thing we can do is have hope, for the best, you know? Hope that everything will work out as it's meant to be, hope that all this chaos will wash over eventually. I just don't think there's anything else we can do."
"I guess," he said, chewing on his lip.
"Those people out there, whoever's behind these kidnappings, this is what they want."
"What?"
"For us to feel like this. Scared, uncertain whether we belong in the wizarding world. And as long as we feel like we don't deserve to be magical, they've won." She paused for a second, and then spoke again, her voice lower, "It was fear that drove my mum out, you know. She left the magical world because she felt like she was unwanted, like people would never see her as more than a Squib. Maybe that's true, maybe it isn't, but we'll never know now."
"Yeah, but that's different," Alfie began, but Ella cut him off.
"Is it though? The perpetrators of these attacks want muggleborns out – that's one thing that they've made very clear. The best way to stand up to them is to tell them that we're not going anywhere. You're not going anywhere, Alfie. You belong."
That was all he truly needed to hear. "When did you get so good at giving pep talks?"
Even though she was miles away, he could see the smile spread across her face. "What can I say? I'm a natural."
When he hung up the phone fifteen minutes later, and entered the kitchen in search of the Christmas pudding that his mother had mentioned, he couldn't help but think (not for the first time) how fate worked in funny ways.
If he hadn't chosen to go to Flourish and Blotts on the 16th of August 2009, he might have never met Teddy Lupin, who had also been shopping for his first-year school supplies. If he hadn't met Teddy Lupin, then he wouldn't have stopped to chat with him in the corridors of the Hogwarts Express, and they wouldn't have been among the last people to take their seats on the train. If they hadn't been among the last people to find a carriage, they wouldn't have been forced to sit in one that was already occupied by a girl with long dark hair, glasses, and her nose stuck in a book.
And if they hadn't, then who knew whether Alfie Hayes and Ella Anderson would be best friends today?
Fate worked in funny ways, but it always seemed to work in the way that was ultimately right.
.oOo.
IV: Tabitha (I)
Tabitha James hated Christmas.
Well, perhaps hated was a slight exaggeration. It was more that she didn't understand the point of it. It was nice, she supposed, for families to be able to spend time together, for people to take time off work and have a bit of a break, but to hype up what was essentially just a single day seemed excessive to her. She didn't mean to be a downer; she was simply a realist. Christmas simply wasn't worth the excitement. Especially not this year.
Despite what Robards had told her earlier, she couldn't bring herself to be happy. Being the Head of the Auror department was what she had always wanted, but to actually get there, she had to solve this godforsaken case. Yes, their conversation had certainly injected into her a newfound sense determination, of will to finally put an end to the mystery, but she had no idea how she was to get to Munroe, how she was to firmly link him to the events.
Sighing, she opened up her case files from September and began to flick through them. The Melissa Cooper and Leslie Stiles disappearances were the segments of the case that she hadn't been through recently, for she believed that she had exhausted all materials available to her and thought her time would be better spent probing other events. Perhaps she had missed something.
Half an hour passed to no avail, and she was about to close the file, frustrated, when a slip of parchment slid out from between two documents. She lifted it up gingerly and examined it. It contained a list of names, written in her handwriting: Rosalind Kettleburn, Riley Carrow, Maisie Duncan, Ella Anderson.
A flicker of recognition went through her. It was the list that she'd made after her initial interviews at Hogwarts of students she had wanted to keep an eye on and investigate further. In truth, she hadn't actually managed to look into all of them. Carrow, of course, she had watched closely, but even she admitted that she might have focused on the girl excessively, and to the neglect of potential other leads. Kettleburn's knowledge had been exhausted – she had been interviewed extensively about Leslie Stiles and nothing she had said was of use, or had panned out. Maisie Duncan, in reality, knew little – the only information she had been able to provide was where Leslie Stiles had last been seen, and questioning had turned up nothing else. Anderson, on the other hand…
Tabitha hadn't had the time to look into the Ravenclaw. Once she'd finished looking into the other three, the London attacks had occurred, and she'd forgotten all about Ella Anderson. She'd written her name down more out of interest than anything else. Tabitha had grown up in a magical household, and had interacted with witches and wizards her whole life, and yet she had never before met the magical child of a Squib. She knew that Squibs often had magical descendants, but she had always thought that it took a few generations for the magic to rear its head again. Ella Anderson appeared to be an interesting exception to her theory.
Tabitha was a firm believer that when something wasn't working out, changing tracks was often a good call. She wasn't getting anywhere with Munroe, so a few hours spent investigating Ella probably wouldn't hurt. She reached for an interdepartmental memo, and scribbled a request on it before sending it off to the Department of Records. Soon enough, a slight wizard with glasses too large for his face appeared at her desk, a large stack of files in his arms. She thanked him, and began perusing.
Birth records, memos of accidental magic, Hogwarts transcripts, work experience applications… everything the Ministry had on Ella Anderson and her immediate family was in front of her. Tabitha worked deftly, skimming through each document, searching for something relevant.
Thirty minutes later, she opened a file containing a single sheet of parchment. She rotated it so that it was landscape, and scanned it, biting her lip in concentration.
She had to read it twice just to make sure she wasn't seeing things.
She knew that name.
"Merlin's beard."
Perhaps everything was starting to fall into place at last.
.oOo.
V: Ella
Christmas had never been a big deal in the Anderson household. Both Rhea and Callum Anderson had tried to make it a special occasion when the children were little and still believed in Santa Claus, but once their business had taken off, it had become little more than a calendar holiday, celebrated because everyone else celebrated it.
Therefore, when they had announced to Ella and Ashton that they would be hosting a Christmas party, both children had been incredibly surprised.
It wasn't a particularly Christmas-y party, Ella thought, as she stood at the bar that evening, waiting for the man behind to make her a virgin mojito. The house was decorated with holly and snowflakes, and the Christmas tree was beautifully lit, but the party itself felt like every other party her parents held. It was more a networking dinner than anything else; the only difference was that this time, the executives had come with their spouses and children.
She supposed she wasn't surprised. Ella didn't really have any extended family; her grandparents had all died, and her father was an only child. Her mother had a sister, she thought, but she'd never met her. From what she understood, she was magical, and hadn't kept in contact with Rhea Anderson after she'd moved into the muggle world as a young teenager.
The barman handed her her drink and Ella moved back into the sea of people in her living room. She felt rather out of place, not entirely sure what to do, or where to go. Her father was talking animatedly with one of his employees, and although he caught her eye and gave her a little wave, Ella did not want to interrupt. Her mother was also in deep conversation with the head of a children's fashion company that Ella knew the Anderson's were thinking of acquiring. Her brother was goodness-knows-where. Ashton had convinced their parents to let him invite a few friends over, and he had disappeared off to a different part of the house as soon as they had arrived. Wherever he was, he was probably having a much better time than Ella.
"Ella?"
She turned around to see a tall, thin girl, her brown hair falling to her shoulders in perfect ringlets. It took her a moment to place her, but when she did, her face broke out into a smile. "Delphine!"
"It's been too long," said the other girl, hugging her eagerly.
"It has," Ella assented.
"Not my fault, though," Delphine teased. "You're the one who went off to boarding school, joining the ranks of all the other posh girls who spend all their time in the country and only return to London during the holidays."
At this, Ella snorted. "Says you." Delphine, who she'd gone to primary school with, was the daughter of a wealthy artist, and lived just off Sloane Square. Although still at day school in London, Ella knew that she had a place at Bedales for the upcoming academic year. "How have you been, though? School's probably keeping you busy."
At this, Delphine made a face. "GSCEs are the bloody worst thing that could happen to a girl. My parents have some grand idea that I'm going to go to Oxbridge some day. I hate to let them down, but I'm going to be lucky if I get two A*'s."
"Me too," Ella said quickly, but Delphine gave her a funny look.
"Come on, Ella. You were always a brainbox. I'd be surprised if you get anything less than an A*."
At this, Ella blushed and murmured something incomprehensible. Although she – and everyone around her – knew that she was clever, she didn't like her intelligence being explicitly referred to in conversation. For one, she never knew what to say in response, and so instead, she swiftly changed the subject. "Are your parents here?"
Delphine rolled her eyes. "Yeah, they're probably drifting around somewhere."
"I'd love to say hi."
"I can take you over. I'm not planning on staying long though."
"Oh?" Ella quirked an eyebrow. "Got somewhere to be?"
"As a matter of fact, yes." Delphine took a sip of the clear, fizzy drink she was holding. "A guy from school's having a party at his house. His parents are away for Christmas, and I hear the place is gorgeous." She paused for a second. "You know, you could probably come, if you wanted to."
Her first instinct was to say no. She didn't know the person hosting it, and she probably wouldn't know anyone there except Delphine. London was lovely, but it wasn't the safest city in the world, and she shouldn't be out late on Christmas night. She should stay at home, with her family, being the dutiful daughter she always was.
Then again, it wasn't as if her parents would actually notice that she was gone. A cursory glance around the room confirmed this suspicion: both her father and mother were in deep conversation with business contacts, and she knew them well enough to know that when they were in work mode, they were unlikely to notice her presence or absence.
Plus, she'd never been to a muggle party before. She'd read about them in books, and seen them on TV, but she'd never actually snuck out of the house and gone to one. Who knew when an opportunity like this would come up again? It was worth going, she thought, as an educational experience if anything.
"Where is it?" she asked tentatively.
"I've got the address on my phone." Delphine pulled out a smart phone from her clutch, and tapped lightly at the screen until she found what she was looking for. "It's just by Earl's Court. We can take a cab – or steal my parent's chauffeur."
Earl's Court. That was right by where Leo lived. She paused for a second before turning to Delphine and saying, "You wouldn't mind if I invited a friend, would you?"
The other girl broke out into a wide grin. "Does that mean you're coming?"
Ella hesitated, then relented. "Potentially."
"Then of course not. The more the merrier."
"Great," Ella said, smiling back in an attempt to hide her uneasiness. "Let me just grab my coat."
By virtue of who she was - a witch, the daughter of a Squib, a teenage girl attending a magical boarding school in the middle of nowhere – Ella Anderson had been in some pretty strange situations in her life. But none, she thought, were as strange as this.
Teenage parties, it turned out, were oddly like the ones she'd read about. The music was so loud that the room seemed to throb in time with the beat; people milled around, alcoholic drinks in hand, shouting to be heard and dancing enthusiastically. Delphine fit right in, chatting with people she knew, and happily helping herself to cans of beer. Ella, on the other hand, was decidedly more uncomfortable. She'd never really been a 'party person'. Parties were not infrequent at Hogwarts: they were often hosted by sixth and seventh years, or held after a successful Quidditch match, and held in house Common Rooms. And yet she avoided them if she could. If she'd been invited, she briefly showed her face, and then left, much preferring to stay in bed with a book.
She would have probably left if it hadn't been for Leo. He was decidedly more enthusiastic about the whole situation although, thankfully, had determined that muggle beer was disgusting in comparison to butterbeer, and was sticking to non-alcoholic drinks. She had been a little nervous about whether he'd fit in, or whether he'd want to come in the first place, considering that he was a pureblood, but he'd made more progress than her, making easy conversation with the other attendees. Ella commented on this when they had a moment to themselves and he laughed.
"I take muggle studies," he reminded her.
Still, after an hour, even he'd had enough. He came out to join her in the front garden, where she was milling about by herself, near a couple of boys who were playing some sort of strange drinking game that seemed to involve downing a number of drinks – whatever it was, Ella thought it looked rather dangerous. They had given her a few odd looks, but left her alone; she wandered around, holding a can of Pepsi in one hand, her other hand in her pocket. She'd forgotten to clear out her pockets before coming, and had been surprised at first when her fingers had grazed the smooth wood of her wand. Although terrified of losing it, she was somewhat glad she'd brought it along. It served as a gentle reminder of Hogwarts.
"It's exhausting," Leo said when he reached her. "Pretending to be someone I'm not. I thought I knew some things about muggles, but what in Merlin's name is an iPod?"
Ella laughed. It was funny, she thought, how Leo literally lived three tube stops away from her and yet his world was so different. She straddled the muggle and the wizarding worlds; she was privileged, she supposed, in that she belonged to, and had intimate knowledge of both. When she'd first arrived at Hogwarts, she'd always been taken by surprise at how little Teddy knew of muggles, and how little Alfie knew of wizards. Since then, she'd gotten used to it – muggles and wizards were, after all, nearly entirely separate in the lives that they led.
"Are you ready to leave?" Leo asked.
"I've been ready to leave since we got here," she replied.
"Oh." His face fell slightly. "You should have said something. We could've gone somewhere else."
"It's fine," she reassured him. "You were having a good time."
"But you weren't."
"It's alright," she said, a little more sharply than she intended. If Leo noticed her tone, he didn't say anything.
"Are you warm enough?" he asked. "I can give you my scarf."
She shook her head. "No, it's fine. This coat is really warm."
"Okay then." He paused. "Do you want to say goodbye to Delphine?"
Ella shrugged. "No, it's fine. She'll just try to convince me to stay."
"You really didn't have a good time, did you?"
"Parties aren't really my scene."
Leo opened the gate for her, and she stepped out onto the paved street. She immediately felt freer, despite only having moved a few metres. The crisp winter air tickled her nose as she breathed in deeply. The street was lined with beautiful houses, fairy lights hanging from windows and trees. No one was outside; everyone was indoors, with their families, enjoying the last few hours of the twenty-fifth of December.
This, she thought, this peace, this calm, this simple beauty – this was what Christmas was meant to be like.
"Help!"
A male voice, panicked and desperate, cut through the crisp air, causing Ella to spin around. One of the boys who had been standing near her had collapsed onto the ground. She couldn't see him clearly from this distance, but it appeared as if his body was convulsing. His friends were gathered around him, distressed. One, she saw, had whipped out his phone and was talking quickly to the operator on the other end.
Unthinkingly, she ducked behind the nearest hedge, pulling a startled Leo with her. Reaching into her pocket, she extracted her wand. "I'm going out there."
"What?" Leo said, shocked. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't exactly know yet - it's alcohol poisoning, I'm fairly sure of that, and Russell Knobbs showed us how to heal it in third-year before we all went to Hogsmeade for the first time. If I can just get close enough, I can –"
"You can't."
"What do you mean I can't?" She whipped around to face him, her eyes blazing. "He could die before the ambulance gets here, Leo, and I…I can save him!"
"Not so loudly!" Leo grabbed her arm with a ferocity that she hadn't seen in him before. "Are you crazy, Ella? What, do you think you can just go out there and wave your wand?"
"Of course—"
"And then what?" he asked, pointedly. "How are you going to explain what you did to everyone who wants to know how a boy on death's door recovered within seconds?"
"The Ministry can send Obliviators!" she argued.
"Firstly, you'll be expelled from Hogwarts for breaking the Statue of Secrecy!" he hissed back. "And what if someone whips out those phone things of theirs and videos you saving him? The Ministry aren't that well-versed in muggle technology, they'd easily miss it. Then what?"
"Then I'll…" she trailed off. She hated to be proven wrong, but she'd run out of counter-arguments. Damn it. She loosened her grip on her wand, her hand falling limply to her side. As she watched Delphine and her friends gather around the nameless boy, Ella Anderson, for the first time in her life, felt completely helpless. Whenever there had been a crisis before, she'd always intervened. Even if she hadn't managed to do so with a calm head, even if she'd sometimes ended up making the situation worse, she'd always done something. Nothing had prepared her for the terrible nausea in the pit of her stomach that came with inaction, with knowing that she had the power to stop something terrible from happening and yet she was completely and utterly unable to use it. Hot tears sprang to the corners of her eyes, and she turned away angrily, cursing herself.
"Ella," said Leo. He attempted to put an arm around her, which she brushed off. "Ella, it's okay."
"It's really not!" she exclaimed. "What's the point, Leo?"
"What do you mean?" He looked puzzled and this irritated her even further.
"I mean –" She waved her hand, fumbling for words. "I mean this… magic. What's the point of magic if we can't use it to help people?"
"But we do use it to help people," he said, trying to placate her. "The Healers in St. Mungo's save lives. The research Potioneers help them do it. The Aurors are out on the streets every day, giving their lives so that we can stay safe."
"But that's not helping people!" she exclaimed. "Don't you see? We're only helping a very select few – ourselves. We're only helping other witches and wizards!
"Well, would you rather the muggles re-started witch hunts?" His tone of voice, suddenly sharp and snappy, surprised her. "The last time we tried to help them, Ella, it only made things worse. Maybe they don't want our help."
"Maybe they don't – are you hearing yourself right now? What's the point of magic if we're only using it to make our own lives better? What's the point of it if we can't use it to help everyone?"
"Are you hearing yourself? Listen, I get that you're upset – you've had a bit to drink, and seeing that guy collapse like that couldn't have been easy. Maybe we should just get you home."
This was the wrong thing to say. She hated it when people attempted to trivialize her views when they disagreed with her. In primary school, the teachers had always implicitly told her that she was wrong, that her age precluded her from having an opinion worth listening to. Her parents occasionally laughed when she expressed her thoughts, telling her that she would 'understand when she was older', and it always just made her more determined to prove that she was correct, that she didn't need to wait to grow up because she knew what she was talking about in the here and the now.
Never before had she experienced this sort of infantilizing behaviour from a friend, let alone from someone she was in a relationship in. It infuriated her.
"I am perfectly fine," she said coldly, turning away from Leo. "I'll get a taxi home."
"I'll come with you."
"No," she said, trying to be firm, but not angry.
"Ella, it's not safe—"
"I can protect myself, thank you very much. I'll have you know that I did the best in the year in the Defence Against the Dark Arts practical exam, whereas you only came tenth. I doubt you'd be much help."
Though she wasn't looking at him, she could see the hurt spread across his face as her words sunk in. "Fine," she heard him mutter under his breath. "Fine."
He turned and walked away from her. She didn't turn to watch him go, but rather fixated on a spot on the wall in front of her, listening as his footsteps faded into the night air.
She felt no remorse. She knew that she was right.
What's the point of magic if it doesn't help everyone?
.oOo.
VI: Tabitha (II)
Cases were funny things.
They were messy, complex, networks of information, strewn together haphazardly. They were difficult to pick apart, difficult to grasp in their entirety. And yet once you managed to find the key link in the chain, that one piece of information that made everything make sense, things would slowly, but certainly fall into place.
At 6PM on the 25th of December, 2013, Tabitha James sat at her desk in the Auror department feeling thoroughly satisfied with herself. She'd spent the entire day trawling through files and records, conducting research on the basis of the lead she'd found when digging into Ella Anderson's background, and the case finally, finally seemed to be making sense.
She'd been on the right track all along, but she'd needed Ella Anderson to connect the dots.
Her eyes lingered on a notice tacked up on the small pinboard near her desk.
Christmas Party. 6PM onwards, Harry Potter's residence. All invited.
The corner of her lips curved up in a smug, satisfied smile.
It was time to put an end to this. And she had the perfect plan.
(to be continued)
A/N: the brainy souls among you (so all of you) will note that this chapter is incomplete (ie. your promised dose of Victoire, Teddy, and the kids has not been delivered). That's because I've had to split it into two. When you reach the halfway point of your plan for a chapter and realise that you've already written over ten thousand words, it's probably a good point to break it up.
The next chapter is called 'Christmas Night' and will finish the story of the 25th of December, 2013, by changing the setting - you'll get a glimpse into one of Harry Potter's famous Christmas parties from the perspectives of Victoire, Teddy, and Tabitha James.
Thank you once again for sticking with this story! I'm on holiday as of next week, so hopefully will be able to churn out updates after then.
Oh, and for my reference - when you guys read chapters, do you prefer to read them all in one go, or to come back to them?