Chapter 16

When Allen woke up the next morning, his window was covered in an icy sheen, but through it he could see piles of wet, cold white.

It had snowed overnight, and it was still snowing, as he showered, dressed, and went down to breakfast. For the past week it had been only a little chilly; nice, even. Even yesterday's storm hadn't been too bad. Now—

"Two feet," Hagrid said, stamping his boots clear of slush. Allen had only gotten as far as the castle courtyard when he ran into the giant man, and followed him back inside the front hall. Hagrid was dusting himself off, sending wet drops onto the stone floor. "And still comin' down," he added, looking down at Allen.

"We're not working today either...are we?" Allen said, glancing wistfully at the winter wonderland outside.

"No sir," Hagrid replied. "Not tha' we aren' workin' a'tall, mind. I can't 'ave you up on tha' ladder, is all, not in this."

"But I don't have to go to classes?" Allen asked hopefully.

Hagrid chuckled. "No, ya don' have ta go ta classes."

"So what are we doing today, Hagrid?" Allen asked, following him back into the Great Hall. Hagrid didn't reply immediately, waving to a few Gryffindors who called out hello's. He ambled up to the Head Table, and Allen followed, waiting for an answer.

"You'n me-" he said, settling heavily in his chair, which groaned in protest, "are gonna decorate for Christmas."

Allen blinked in surprise. Was it already…?

Hagrid smiled. "You haven' been keepin' up, have ya?"

Allen shook his head. He'd be seventeen soon. ...Huh. He shrugged and grinned. "I like Christmas," he said simply.

Hagrid smiled between bites of oatmeal and bacon. "Me too. We'll start with the trees."

Hagrid and Allen spent the morning hauling huge pines from the Forbidden Forest to the castle, stacking a dozen similarly-sized evergreens in the front hall, out of the way of foot traffic. When they were done gathering them, they brushed off the snow from their coats and Allen helped Hagrid move the trees into the Great Hall, six on both walls of the room.

Inside the hall, huge boxes of ribbon, ornaments, star and angel toppers were waiting, along with a tiny man in long teacher's robes and a scarf three sizes too big wound about his neck, the ends dragging behind him on the floor.

"Professor Flitwick, Allen Walker," Hagrid introduced, and Allen had to bend down to shake the tiny professor's hand.

"We meet at last, Mr. Walker," Flitwick squeaked. "Good work down on the field. Enjoying your stay?"

Allen was grateful that Flitwick didn't seem upset that Allen had broken the stands in the first place. He merely smiled, nodded and replied, "Yes. I am, thank you."

Flitwick nodded, reached into his robes for his wand, and said, "Well then, shall we get started? I'm helping with the decorations as well, you see."

Allen found a box of decorations, a ladder, and got to work on one tree while Hagrid and Flitwork set to decorating their own. Allen didn't get right to work; instead he watched in fascination as Flitwick delicately placed each and every bobble and glimmery bell, ball or ribbon string on the trees, never once lifting more than his wrist. Yet the work must have been intricate, Allen realized, as he watched the man handle several strands of silver (real silver, Allen realized) of tinsel.

Shaking his head, Allen turned round and got about decorating his own tree, climbing up and down on the ladder. In retrospect, he wasn't doing anything much different than usual.

The light in the hall shifted from one side of the room to the other; the fires in the grates around the hall roared, lending warmth and light. As the afternoon went on, students started filing in, brushing off snow from their hair and cloaks, setting down books, quills, and parchment, admiring Flitwick's work with the trees.

Harry and Ron came into the hall after their last class ended, and instead of returning straight to the common room, went to the hall to see the trees. (That Hermione studied in the common room was, of course, not a factor in changing their routine.) Hogwarts always did a nice job celebrating Christmas, and Harry needed the cheering up.

The dining room doubled as study hall, so despite there being several people in the room, it was relatively quiet. They ambled over to the Gryffindor table, greeted Dean and Seamus, who were frowning over Transfiguration work, and settled down.

"I'm tellin' ya," Ron was grumbling, "this is brutal, giving us this much work before the holidays."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Sure would be nice to have help," he muttered, but Ron heard his meaning underneath and stared hotly, "If you mean I should go up to Hermione and-"

"I didn't mean anything," Harry interrupted quickly, trying to cut off the tirade before it began.

Ron grumbled under his breath, took out his books and was soon blinking uncomprehendingly at the text, trying to write his essay without success.

"You two having any luck?" Dean said from down the table. Harry shook his head; Ron's thumped on the table, and Harry chuckled as his friend groaned.

"I don't understand a word of this," he moaned melodramatically. Dean and Seamus got up, sliding over, and soon the boys weren't talking about homework at all.

In the midst of a half-serious discussion on the best uses of a Weasley Wizarding Wheezes' Puking Pastel, Harry glanced over the decorations, admiring them anew. With everything going on lately—the insane amount of classwork, his extra lessons with Dumbledore, his growing suspicions of Malfoy, his troubles in being between Hermione and Ron's fallout—he hadn't been able to just sit and relax.

"Hey, Ron?" he said as a sudden thought occurred to him.

"Yeah?"

"You still have that chess set from first year?"

Ron grinned. "Yeah. Just a minute, let me get it." Ron climbed to his feet, doubling back to grab his things. "You start preparing yourself to get your arse handed to you." He left, Harry calling after in mock indignation, much to Seamus and Dean's amusement.

"You're rubbish at chess, Harry," Dean said as Ron was gone from sight. Harry shrugged.

"Oh shut up, you're no better," Harry replied cheerfully.

"Better'n you," Dean and Seamus replied together.

Harry chuckled, taking another look at the trees. Down at the far end of the hall, he caught sight of Allen Walker, on top of a ladder, decorating a tree. Hagrid and Flitwick were on the other side, chatting away as they worked on their own trees.

"Weird kid," Seamus said, noticing the direction of Harry's gaze.

Harry didn't reply, watching as the boy worked. He still didn't know what to think of Allen, to be honest. He just knew he was Hermione's charge, and seemed to excel at avoiding her questions whenever possible. He regretted the weird request he'd put on the boy, but wasn't going to hold it against him, either.

"He looks lost to me," Dean mused thoughtfully. "Ya know, like we used to be, when Hogwarts was still new and the wizarding world was still this mysterious thing."

Harry and Seamus looked to Dean, who spread his hands out. "He looks like I felt, back before I knew that I belonged at Hogwarts."

"When you still thought it was a mad dream you were going to wake up from," Harry said quietly.

Dean nodded. They'd both been raised among Muggles. Harry had always known he had never belonged with the Dursleys; he'd never asked before, but now it seemed that Dean had felt the same.

Harry glanced back at Allen. "He's a Muggle too," he said, and Dean and Seamus looked over at Allen, shock written on their faces, before looking over at Harry again. "Hermione said so," Harry offered as proof.

"What about that arm of his?" Seamus said dubiously.

"Not magic, apparently," Harry said. "He's just different, that's all."

Dean hummed, but he looked thoughtful as he considered Allen again. Finally, after many moments of silence had passed, he said, "So what?"

The boys looked at him. "So what?" Dean said again. "He's not the first different person we've met, is he? I reckon Trelawney and Luna are weirder. And Lupin was a werewolf, wasn't he, and he was all right. I'll say what I said before: he's just lost, like we were."

Whatever Harry may have said to that, he forgot it when Ron returned, chessboard and a box of pieces in hand. Noticing the mood of the table he said, "What?"

Seamus waved toward the other end of the hall. "Just talking about Walker."

Ron looked over to where the boy worked. "What about him?"

But Harry came to his feet then, the other three boys watching him curiously. Harry just shrugged. "I'm going to invite him to play," he said simply.

"Does he even know how to?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "Won't know unless we ask, will we?" With that, he turned and walked away, hoping that Dean was right.

Allen was finishing the final touches when he sensed a person coming up behind him. Looking over he caught Harry Potter's eye, and climbed down the ladder, readying himself for what the boy could possibly want.

What he didn't expect was: "You know how to play chess?"

Allen blinked. Blinked again. "Sorta," he replied, setting his empty box down and rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not very good though."

"That's okay," Harry replied easily. "Neither am I, but if you want—" he looked over to Hagrid, "I mean, if you have a minute, do you want to join us?"

Allen looked past Harry to where Ron, Seamus and Dean were watching, waiting to see what happened.

After a moment, Allen smiled lightly. "Sure."

Harry's shoulders fell in relief; Allen held back a chuckle. He must have been more nervous than he let on. "Great," he said, "though I have to warn you, Ron's tough to beat. He doesn't take mercy on anyone."

Allen soon learned how true that was.

"Knight to H3," Ron called, and Allen cringed as his rook was smashed to pieces by the horse's hooves, Ron reaching over to collect the broken pieces.

"This is brutal," Allen muttered.

"This is wizard's chess," Ron gloated with a grin. He still had most of his pieces. All that stood between him and victory was Allen's queen, two pawns, and a bishop, huddled in close by his king.

"Harry, I think we found someone who's worse than you," Dean whispered loudly. Harry and Seamus chuckled good-naturedly.

"Then I want to play Harry next," Allen said glumly, pondering his next move. "I might have a chance then."

He moved the bishop two spaces. Ron's knight took the bishop out, and the Church was cleared from the board forever.

"Never liked the clergy anyway," Allen pouted, and though the boys laughed, they saw that there was something about the look in Allen's eye that was all too serious.

Ron called checkmate on the next turn, and as the pieces reassembled themselves for another game, Allen asked, "So any of you ever play poker?"

"I have," Dean said.

"No way," Harry cut in sharply. "Every time I tried to play cards with Dudley, he'd beat me up if I won. Kinda puts you off from it."

Allen frowned. "Who's Dudley?"

"My cousin," Harry said. "Bit of a jerk. About the size of this table."

Allen snorted, and then laughed disbelievingly when Harry promised that he was totally serious.

"I swear! He eats almost as much as you do, but he weighs seventeen stone and you're a stick!"

"Why is that, anyway?" Ron said, placing the newly-formed chess pieces on the board. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone eat as much as you. Though I think Mum would faint of happiness if you came to dinner," he added.

"Your mum would take one look at Allen and tell him to have second helpings," Harry added. The boys laughed.

Allen raised his eyebrows. "Where can I meet your mum?" he said, and they laughed harder.

"But seriously," Ron said, wiping his eyes.

Allen shrugged. "Just special like that?"

"Oh come on," Seamus said. "You don't have to answer all vague like that, give it to us straight."

Allen sighed, still smiling, but his eyes were sad again. He reached out and moved a pawn on his side of the board, starting a new game. "It's 'cause of my arm," he said simply.

"Your arm?" Seamus replied doubtfully.

"Yeah," Allen said. "Long story short, I have this extra—power, I'd guess you'd call it, that requires a lot of energy, so I eat a lot of food to make up for it." He shrugged, looking up into Seamus' eyes. "Honest."

"So, when it changes like it did at the game?" Seamus continued, falling off the question with the hope Allen would pick it back up.

Allen nodded. "Afterward I have to eat, and I got into the habit." He watched Ron move a pawn, then made another pawn go forward. "Besides, when I was growing up there wasn't a lot to go around, so I got used to eating when and how much I could."

Harry glanced curiously at Allen, but said nothing. Ron shared a look with Harry, then ventured, "Where'd you grow up?"

"Circus," Allen said, moving pieces, but not letting his hand move from his piece. "Then travelling, then…" he paused, changing his mind, moving his piece to a different place before letting go, "more travelling after that."

Ron mumbled, "Shouldn't have done that," before cornering Allen's pawn.

Looking at Allen with new curiosity, Dean asked, "You grew up in a circus?"

Allen nodded, moving his pawn away from being taken. "Yup. Til I was about...uh, six or seven. Not sure."

"Wicked!" Seamus exclaimed excitedly. "Can you do anything? Tricks, I mean?"

Allen looked to Seamus, and grinned. "Want me to show you?"

"Of course, prove it!" Seamus challenged.

Allen shrugged, looking around, before grabbing five chess pieces and rising to his feet, tossing two, then three, then soon all five pieces in the air.

"Hey, wait," Ron said, "don't you juggle balls or pins or something?"

"Don't have any," Allen said, staring at Ron in the eye as he kept the chess pieces in motion.

"Hand those over," Dean said, and Allen stopped, tossing Dean the pieces. With a flick of his wand Dean transformed the pieces into tennis balls and bowling pins- "Hey! Those were a gift!" "You'll get 'em back good as new, Ron, don't lose your shirt" "Yeah, they'll be better'n new even," "Shut up, Seamus!"-and returned them to Allen.

They were drawing stares now, murmuring as others looked up to watch Allen toss and spin high in the air. When he finished, there was a smattering of applause from all around the room, and Allen, though blinking with surprise at the other students, gave them a deep, flourishing bow.

"Can you do other things?" Ron said excitedly. Allen nodded as he took his seat, and Dean took the pins and balls back, changing them to chess pieces once again. Allen smirked as three of them swayed dizzily, before shaking themselves at Allen in what he assumed were tiny fits of anger.

"Acrobatics, balancing stunts, anything clowns do."

"So is that what you did, before you came here?" Harry said.

Allen hesitated a moment before he nodded. "I took some time off from being a clown for a while. Now I'm back to that. It's a living."

There was more to that story, but Harry didn't think it was a good idea to push too hard for it when Allen was still dodgy with his answers.

"Allen, tha' was really somethin'," Hagrid's voice boomed over them, and all five boys looked up to see the half-giant walking toward them. "Slackin' off, I see," Hagrid said jokingly to Allen. Allen smiled, a bit shamefaced.

"Sorry, Hagrid."

"S'ok," Hagrid said. "Yer playin' Ron at chess. Heh," he chuckled. "Good luck. Ya know, firs' year he beat Professor McGonagall's giant set. Impressive game, Dumbledore said."

"Oh Hagrid, don't bring that up, it's old news," Ron said, but as Allen looked over at Ron he could see the boy blushing pink with pride.

Allen wanted to ask about that, but then Hagrid said, "Well, we have tha armor ta polish and garlands ta put up, so we had better get back ta work, Allen."

Allen rose to his feet, and looked at each boy's face, giving them all a small, real smile. "Thanks," he said simply. "This was fun." Looking pointedly at Ron he added, "You and me, rematch later."

Ron grinned. "You're on."

Still smiling, Allen followed Hagrid out the hall, the four Gryffindor boys watching him.

Ron shook his head. "He's still a bit strange," he said, "but I like him."

The other three nodded in silent agreement.

A/N: A lighthearted breather was needed, don't you all think? Hope you're having a good summer.