The Ghost of Christmas Present
Hogwarts, Great Hall, Christmas Day
Filius had outdone himself this year, Minerva thought as she entered the Great Hall. And Christmas decoration at Hogwarts was a fiendishly difficult affair. It wasn't just a question of combining one beautiful, wood-panelled room, several Christmas trees, and your wildest imaginations. You had to work around the sensibilities of the various Houses, too. Filius could never use red-and-gold: "Bloody Gryffindor is always favoured." Had to avoid green-and-silver: "And what do Slytherins know about Season's Cheer?" At Harrods, she had seen a rather fetching display in blue, but if Filius used that, he'd never hear the last of it: "Just because he's Head of Ravenclaw, it's not fair." At least Hufflepuff (ever the peace keeper) was no real problem, with their un-Christmassy black-and-yellow.
This year, Filius had chosen various shades of purple and some lovely, frosty white baubles. The effect was stunning. So was the full Christmas lunch with all the trimmings. A small clutch of students was already seated. They would have been far more comfortable with a separate students' table, but Albus insisted on cheerfulness and jollity and goodwill all around. "It's Christmas Day, my dear! It's only once a year!" Which was, indeed, a cheering thought, she had to give him that.
As the food was passed round, and the terrified students gave their monosyllabic answers to Albus's hearty questions, she suddenly realised just how much Hagrid reminded her of the illustration of the Ghost of Christmas Present: In easy state upon this couch there sat a jolly Giant, glorious to see. And Hagrid, kind, generous Hagrid, had many of the Ghost's excellent qualities. If Albus ever – Merlin forbid – decided to put on a Christmas Carol play, Hagrid had his part cut out for him.
After lunch, there was the inevitable blind man's-buff. As soon as she could without attracting attention, Minerva ensconced herself in one of the deep window-seats, behind a curtain. To her dismay, it was opened only seconds later.
A slightly flustered Rolanda Hooch slid in, closed the drape, and smiled apologetically. "Hope you don't mind me barging in. I'm just not much of a blind man's-buff person," she whispered. Minerva cast a quick, wordless Silencing spell. "Neither am I," she confessed.
"Do you think they will notice?" Rolanda looked slightly worried. I doubt it, Minerva thought, we're not Topper and the plump sister, no reason to suspect any goings-on between us. There was the usual twinge of regret at the thought of no goings-on with Rolanda.
Still, the best that could come of it was a painful break-up, and the necessity to remain colleagues and to continue working together. The worst was a passionate, loving relationship that had to be conducted in a school where several hundreds of students – and quite a few teachers – seemed to have nothing to do but gossip. And she did value the friendship that had grown since Rolanda had taken up her post. Intimacy between friends isn't reached with the first touch of bare skin on bare skin, she thought. It's achieved slowly, over a necessarily long period of time, during which, bit by bit, you find out how the other one thinks. Each time you think the same, there's a warm glow of recognition. And you can be a bit more yourself, a bit less on your guard.
She suddenly realised that Rolanda was answering her own question. "I doubt they'll notice us," she said, "I'm not Topper and no-one could take you for a plump sister, Min. I mean ..."
Minerva smiled, at Ro, at the Dickens quotation, at feeling exactly that warm glow she had just been thinking of. Did this mean that Rolanda, too, was thinking of being so very confidential together, behind the curtains? No, of course not. It meant, as Minerva knew perfectly well, that she loved reading.
"So you're a Dickens fan, too?" she asked. "I must admit that I reread the Carol annually. Today at lunch I was thinking how well Hagrid would do for the Ghost of Christmas Present, if we were to do a play of it."
"Would you like that?" Hooch enquired.
"Heavens, no. Someone would have to organise the staff, get them to rehearsals, jolly along those who hate the whole acting thing, and soothe the ruffled feathers of the prima donnas. And guess who that would be? The only bit I'd like is the casting."
"Who would you have, then? I think Hagrid is an inspired idea. So logical to think of the Ghosts for Ghosts, but Hagrid is much better. Mind, I think the Baron would make an excellent Ghost of Christmas Past."
"Oh, yes, absolutely. And Present? The Grey Lady is a bit too ... grey, I think."
"Nicholas would be a natural," Rolanda suggested. "But that means that he can't do..."
"...Marley." They had spoken simultaneously and smiled at each other, at the sharing as much as at the idea of Nicholas/Marley.
"We'll think of the Ghost later," Minerva decided. "What's more important, we need a good Scrooge. Actually ..., I realise that he's a bit young for the part ... but I feel that Severus could make something of Scrooge."
"Oh, God, yes. And can we have Filius as Bob Cratchit? And for Mrs. Cratchit ..." Rolanda hesitated, intentionally this time.
"Poppy!" Minerva added. They grinned at each other. "But what do we do with Albus? We can't leave him out; he would be devastated. Perhaps ... the Portly Gentleman ... no, that's too small a part ... That's it: Mr. Fezziwig. Jollying along his employees. Clear away, my lads, and let's have lots of room here! Hilli-ho, Dick! Chirrup, Ebenezer! . He'll be perfect."
"And if we want to make the students' day, we'll have you as Mrs. Fezziwig."
"Is that rumour still doing the rounds, then? Silly children. He was my teacher once, and besides ...."
"Quite. Wrong age, wrong place, wrong character, I'd even say," Rolanda grinned.
"And wrong gender. Both for Albus and for me." Which was one phrase more than McGonagall had meant to say. Dratted Christmas lunch. Dratted curtains, and the girls' dormitory atmosphere they created. Quickly, she covered her faux pas. "Charity Burbage, I'd say; she dances well, which is all that is required, really."
Quickly, they distributed some more parts. Minerva had to cast an additional Silencing spell when Rolanda suggested Peeves as Tiny Tim. Still chuckling over that image, she regretfully suggested they should head back to the group. Rolanda would make a lovely 'plump sister', she thought; in fact, she'd set a fashion for sparse, well-muscled sisters. Who wants plump, when this is on offer? Stop it, you fool. Friendship, for Merlin's sake; be reasonable.
"Any plans for the rest of the holidays?" she asked casually.
"No, not really. Going to watch a Harpies' match. They play in Scotland, around New Year's Eve," Rolanda answered.
After a brief hesitation, Minerva decided that the notions of 'friendship' and 'being colleagues' could accommodate a casual invitation. "If you happen to be in the neighbourhood, drop by for a drink. You can tell me about the match."
"Perhaps I will," Rolanda answered. They made their way to the High Table, which was now laden with tea and Christmas Cakes.
A/N Next week you'll have the final chapter, which will justify the M-rating.