The Red Reign Challenge: This Christmastime
The
Twelfth Night : A Faerie Tale
by I Got Tired of Waiting
December 26 : Boxing Day
The cat was nowhere to be found the next morning, but judging from the stench in the bathroom and the torn papers, the beast had obviously used the pan sometime during the night. A trip to the garden later, he sipped his tea at the table, noting the water bowl was empty as well.
He peeked under the tree, expecting to see it sleeping there and instead found a small leather bag with a red bow. Hefting its weight in his hand, he reckoned it to be coins. Taking it to the kitchen table, he opened the bag and upended its contents, holding his breath as a stream of gold poured onto the worn wooden surface. Counting them, he realised there was more gold Galleons in the bag than he'd made in the last two years with the odd, menial jobs he'd scrounged around the village. Running the heavy coins through his fingers, he snorted, thinking he was less than Filch now; at least Dumbledore had given the caretaker his dignity and his freedom.
After filling the cat's water bowl, he hunted for a place to hide his bounty, finally deciding that leaving the bag in full view on the counter would probably serve just as well as any secret place and would certainly be more convenient. No one ever came to the cottage, and only he, or the Aurors, could enter it, so why should he worry about someone stealing anything? Shrugging, he made himself a simple breakfast and, after cleaning up, he retired to the sitting room to read, the cat still in hiding.
Later that night, after returning to the sitting room with the night's firewood, he was startled to see that, in his short absence for dinner, the tree had sprouted dozens of new ornaments, fantastical shapes made of marzipan. The almondy taste and smell of a plucked twinkling star made him think of Dobby and the other house-elves serving the delicacy as a treat on Boxing Day after another table-groaning dinner of left-overs from Christmas Day. While tempted to take another treat, he decided to leave them for later.
As he sat in front of the fire, he reached for his book, almost knocking over a goblet of steaming mulled wine. Recalling Albus and Minerva's fondness for the drink, a cautious sip preceded a deep draught, the hot spices rolling pleasantly on his tongue and down his suddenly parched throat, taking him back to the kinder days at Hogwarts.
Staring into the fire, lost in his memories, he almost missed the cat slinking out from under the tree. Stretching, it sauntered over to him and, with a stare and a blink and a yawn, it flopped atop his stockinged feet and fell almost instantly asleep. But it kept his toes warm. He watched it for a while and then ignored it, going back to his thoughts and his wine, the book forgot. Just as he decided he should go to bed, the cat rose and leapt for the tree. Before it ducked under the boughs, it turned and regarded him almost expectantly.
He cleared his throat. "I don't know if you're the reason for such bittersweet gifts, but if you are, thank you."
A low gravelly meow its only reply, it darted under the tree out of sight. With a sigh, he bid it goodnight and retired to his room, leaving the door open.
TBC