Chapter 16

A Very Frosty Christmas

KIARA

"So Triphorm was offering to help her? She was definitely offering to help her?"

"If you ask that one more time," I said, "I'm going to stick this potato - "

"I'm only checking!" said Chrissie. We were standing alone at Dawson Manor's kitchen sink, peeling a mountain of potatoes for Sian. Snow was drifting past the window in front of us.

"Yes, Triphorm was offering to help her!" I said. "She said she'd promised Malty's father to protect her, that she's made an Unbreakable Oath or something - "

"An Unbreakable Vow?" said Chrissie, looking stunned. "Nah, she can't have ... are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," I said. "Why, what does it mean?"

"Well, you can't break an Unbreakable Vow ..."

"I'd worked that much out for myself, funnily enough. What happens if you break it, then?"

"You die," said Chrissie simply. "Tanya and Geri tried to get me to make one when I was about five. I nearly did, too, I was holding hands with Tanya and everything when Sian found us. I don't think she understood what we were doing, but she must have thought that it was something dangerous, because she screamed for Dad. He went mental," said Chrissie, with a reminiscent gleam in her eye. "Only time I've ever seen Dad as angry as Ma or Sian. Anyway, he called up Aunt Pam and she took them home. We didn't see them for the rest of the summer. Tanya reckons her left buttock has never been the same since."

"Yeah, well, passing over Tanya's left buttock - "

"I beg your pardon?" said Tanya's voice as the twins entered the kitchen.

"Aaah, Geri, look at this. They're using knives and everything. Bless them."

"I'll be seventeen in seven and a bit months' time," said Chrissie grumpily, "and then I'll be able to do it by magic!"

"But meanwhile," said Geri, sitting down at the kitchen table and putting her feet up on it, "we can enjoy watching you demonstrate the correct use of a - whoops-a-daisy."

"You made me do that!" said Chrissie angrily, sucking her thumb. "You wait, when I'm seventeen - "

"I'm sure you'll dazzle us all with hitherto unsuspected magical skills," yawned Tanya.

"And speaking of hitherto unsuspected magical skills, Christina," said Geri, "what is this we're hearing from Sian, Chris and our other cousins abut you and a young man called - unless our information is faulty - Larry Brown?"

Chrissie turned a little pink, but did not look disappointed as she turned back to the potatoes.

"Mind your own business."

"What a snappy retort," said Tanya. "I really don't know how you think of them. No, what we wanted to know was ... how did it happen?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Did he have an accident or something?"

"What?"

"Well, how did he sustain such extensive brain damage? Careful, now!"

Sian entered the room just in time to see Chrissie throw the potato knife at Tanya, who turned it into a paper aeroplane with one lazy flick of her wand.

"Chrissie!" she said, a little too ferociously. "Don't ever let me see you throwing knives again!"

"I won't," said Chrissie, "let you see," she added under her breath, as she turned back to the potato mountain. Sian glared at her back for a few seconds before she turned back to Tanya and Geri, who looked as though they didn't know what to do with themselves.

OK, so, let me just back up a little here, so that you can understand. You see, once we had got off the subs at the Sub House, we saw my parents and Tanya and Geri were there to greet us, seeing as Mr Dawson had to work. I told them that tensions were running high between the Dawson siblings, because Chrissie was seeing someone - I didn't mention Larry's name, despite Tanya and Geri's pestering - and that none of the Dawsons liked them together, particularly Sian and Ben. I'm pretty sure my parents and Tanya and Geri didn't believe me, until, of course, we got to the Manor and had dinner that night. No one spoke much. Tanya and Geri tried making a few jokes, and my parents tried asking each of us questions about how school had gone so far, but after a while they stopped trying. Even Mr Dawson could see that something was going on.

During the hours when we didn't have to be in each other's company, no one, apart from myself, spent any time in Chrissie's company. They all spent time in their rooms or, in Sian and Chris' case, the smaller attic. As I said before, I decided to keep Chrissie company, not only because she was my best friend, but also because I didn't want her to be alone over Christmas. And now, back to the present.

"Tanya, Geri, I've left your room just as it was," Sian told them. "The only thing I've done is changed the sheets."

"Cheers, Sian," said Tanya.

"And Sam will be having the room next to yours, and Timon will be next to Simba and Nala's room, and once Joey's picked them up, Sarabi and Sarafina will have a room each on the same floor as Simba and Nala - along with Kopa. He was going to stay with his family in Africa, but seeing how well we got on at Beadu's Christmas party, he asked them if he could come here for Christmas instead. They agreed. I only know this because he wrote to me, so there," she added, before any of us could ask.

"Perdy definitely not showing her ugly face, then?" asked Tanya.

Sian's face darkened slightly before she answered.

"No, she's busy, I expect, at the Ministry."

"Or she's the world's biggest prat," said Tanya, as Sian left the kitchen. "One of the two. Well, let's get going, then, Geri."

"What are you two up to?" asked Chrissie. "Can't you help us with these potatoes? You could just use your wand and then we'll be free, too!"

"No, I don't think we can do that," said Tanya seriously. "It's very character-building stuff, learning to peel spuds without using magic, makes you appreciate how difficult it is for Muggles and Squibs - "

" - and if you want people to help you, Chrissie," added Geri, throwing the paper aeroplane at her, "I wouldn't chuck knives at them. Just a little hint. We're off to Southport, there's a very nice-looking lad working in a pub who thinks my card tricks are something marvellous ... almost like real magic ..."

"Cows," said Chrissie darkly, watching Tanya and Geri setting off across the snowy garden. "Would've only taken them ten seconds and then we could've gone, too."

"I couldn't," I said. "I promised your mother I wouldn't wander off while I'm staying here."

"Oh, yeah," said Chrissie. She peeled a few more potatoes and then said, "Are you going to tell Ma what you heard Triphorm and Malty saying to each other?"

"Yep," I said. "I'm going to tell anyone who can put a stop to it and Crighton's top of the list. I might have another word with your dad, too."

"Pity you didn't hear what Malty's actually doing, though."

"I couldn't have done, could I? That was the whole point, she was refusing to tell Triphorm."

There was silence for a moment or two, then Chrissie said, "Course, you know what they'll all say? Ma and Dad and all of them? They'll say Triphorm isn't really trying to help Malty; she was just trying to find out what Malty's up to."

"They didn't hear her," I said flatly. "No one's that good an actor, not even Triphorm."

"Yeah ... I'm just saying, though," said Chrissie.

I turned to face her, frowning.

"You think I'm right, though?"

"Yeah, I do!" said Chrissie hastily. "Seriously, I do! But they're all convinced Triphorm's in the Order, aren't they?"

I said nothing. It had already occurred to me that this would be the most likely objection to my new evidence; I could hear Sian now:

"Obviously, Kiara, she was pretending to offer help so she could trick Malty into telling her what she's doing ..."

And I could tell that Chris would say something along those lines, too. This was pure imagination, however, as I had had no opportunity to tell either Sian or Chris what I had heard. She was enveloped in Kopa's arms when I returned to Beadu's party, and when we left for the common room she was too tired and too happy to listen to what I had to say to her. Early the next morning, however, I cornered both her and Chris, telling them I had some important news for them when we got back from the holidays - for even though we were living in the same house, I highly doubted that we would get the chance to talk to each other much. I was not entirely sure that they had heard me, though; Chrissie and Larry had been saying a thoroughly non-verbal goodbye just behind me at the time.

Still, even Sian and Chris would not be able to deny one thing: Malty was definitely up to something, and Triphorm knew it, so I felt justified in saying "I told you so", which I had done several times to Chrissie already.

I did not get the chance to speak to Mr Dawson, who was working very long hours at the Ministry, until Christmas Eve night. The Dawsons, my parents, my grandmothers and their guests were sitting in the drawing room, which Sian, Beth, Kestrel and Merida had decorated so lavishly that it was rather like sitting in a paper-chain explosion. Tanya, Geri, Chrissie and I were the only ones who knew that the angel on top of the tree was actually a wild gnome that had bitten Tanya on the ankle as she and Geri had been wondering around the woods. Stupefied, painted gold, stuffed into a miniature tutu and with small wings glued to its back, it glowered down at us all; the ugliest angel I had ever seen, with a large bald head like a potato and rather hairy feet.

We were listening to a combination of Christmas Carols over the wireless, many of which Sian, with her angelic voice, chose to sing along to whenever she wasn't focusing on her artwork - much to the annoyance of Ferdinand who, every time he tried to interrupt, was shushed by Mr Dawson, who encouraged his daughter on. Tanya and Geri started a game of Exploding Snap with Ben and Dave. Chrissie kept shooting Sam and Ferdinand covert looks, as though hoping to pick up tips. Chris was teaching Merida how to carve wood. Beth and Kestrel were playing chess and Joe and Jack were in their room, working on their inventory. My grandmothers were sat on a sofa together, chatting merrily, and my parents were sitting on another sofa, content with each other, my father rubbing my mother's growing belly. Meanwhile Timon Meers, who was thinner and more ragged-looking than ever, was sitting beside the fire, staring into its depths as though he could not hear the choral voices.

I was distracted by Mr Dawson, who I was sat next to, sat up straighter in his chair, and looked at me.

"Sorry about this," he said, jerking his head towards the Christmas broadcast. "Be over soon."

"No problem," I said, grinning. "Has it been busy at the Ministry?"

"Very," said Mr Dawson. "I wouldn't mind if we were getting anywhere, but of the three arrests we've made in the last couple of months, I doubt that one of them is a genuine Love Destroyer - only don't repeat that, Kiara," he added quickly, looking much more awake all of a sudden.

"So, basically, they're arresting anyone who's been saying things about the Love Destroyers' plans, so that they can increase public morale?" I said.

"I'm afraid so," said Mr Dawson. "I know Susan's tried appealing directly Scrimwazz about a few of them ... I mean, for all we know, they could be as much a Love Destroyer as a satsuma ... but the top levels want to look as though they're making some progress, and "three arrests" sounds better than "three mistaken arrests and releases" ... but again, this is all top secret ..."

"I won't say anything," I said. I hesitated for a moment, wondering how best to remark on what I wanted to say; as I marshalled my thoughts, another Carol began on the wireless.

"Mr Dawson," I began after a while, "you know what I told you at the Sub House before we set off for school?"

"I checked, Kiara," said Mr Dawson at once. "I went and searched the Maltys' house. There was nothing, either broken or whole, that shouldn't have been there."

"Yeah, I know, I saw in the Squabbler that you'd looked ... but this is something different ... well, something more ..."

And I told Mr Dawson everything I had overheard between Malty and Triphorm. As I spoke, I saw Meers' head turn a little towards me, taking in every word. My parents, who were also sitting close by, leaned forward (my mother with some difficulty) to listen better. When I had finished, there was silence, except for the carollers' singing.

"Has it occurred to you, Kiara," said Mr Dawson, "that Triphorm was simply pretending - "

"Pretending to offer help, so that she could find out what Malty's up to?" I said quickly. "Yeah, I thought you'd say that. But how do we know?"

"It isn't our business to know," said Meers unexpectedly. He had turned his back on the fire now, and faced me across Mr Dawson. "It's Crighton's business. Crighton trusts Tiana, and that ought to be good enough for all of us."

"But since when has Triphorm ever proved herself as truly trustworthy, Timon?" said Mum.

"Nala," said Meers, "we don't have to trust Tiana, we just have to trust - "

"But," I said, "just say - just say Crighton's wrong about Triphorm - "

"People have said it, many times. It comes down to whether or not you trust Crighton's judgement. I do; therefore, I trust Tiana."

"But Crighton can make mistakes," I argued. "She says it herself. And you - "

I looked Meers straight in the eye.

" - do you honestly like Triphorm?"

"I neither like nor dislike Tiana," said Meers. "No, Kiara, Nala, I am speaking the truth," he added, as Mum and I both pulled sceptical expressions. "We shall never be bosom friends, perhaps, after all that happened between Nala and Pumbaa and Tiana, there is too much bitterness there. But I do not forget that during the year I taught at Dragon Mort, Tiana made the Wolfsbane Potion for me every month, made it perfectly, so that I did not have to suffer as I usually do at the full moon."

"But she "accidentally" let it slip that you're a werewolf, so you had to leave!" I said angrily.

"Ha!" said Mum triumphantly. "See, Timon! How can you stick up for her, knowing that she had unleashed your secret to the school?"

Meers didn't answer. He just shrugged.

"The news would have leaked out anyway. We all know she wanted my job, but she could have wreaked much worse damage on me by tampering with the Potion. She kept me healthy. I must be grateful."

"Maybe she didn't dare mess with the Potion with Crighton watching her!" I said.

"You are determined to hate her, Kiara," said Meers with a faint smile. "And I understand; with Nala as your mother, you have inherited an old prejudice. By all means, tell Crighton what you have told Matt, Simba, Nala and me, but do not expect her to share you view of the matter; do not expect her to be surprised by what you tell her. It might have been on Crighton's orders that Tiana questioned Dani."

The choir finished together on a very long, high-pitched note and loud applause issued out of the wireless, which Sian joined in with enthusiastically.

"Eez it over?" said Ferdinand loudly. "Thank goodness, what an 'orrible - "

"Shall we have a nightcap, then?" asked Mr Dawson loudly, leaping to his feet. "Who wants egg-nog?"

As Mr Dawson bustled off to fetch the egg-nog and everybody else stretched and broke into conversation, Chris stood up and said, "Simba, could I have a word?"

I looked up at him at the same time as my father. He looked very nervous and was looking straight at me father, who stared at him shrewdly for a moment, then nodded. He rubbed my mother's stomach fondly one more time, kissed her on the cheek then got up, with Chris following him into the hallway.

I then turned to Meers and asked him, "What have you been up to lately?"

"Oh, I've been underground," said Meers. "Almost literally. That's why I haven't been able to write, Kiara; sending letters to you would have been something of a give-away."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been living along my fellows, my equals," said Meers. "Werewolves," he added, at my look of incomprehension. "Nearly all of them are on Zira's side. Crighton wanted a spy and here I was ... ready-made."

He sounded a little bitter, and perhaps me realised it, for he smiled more warmly as he went on, "I am not complaining; it is necessary work and who can do it better than I? However, it has been difficult gaining their trust. I bear the unmistakable signs of having tried to live among wizards, you see, whereas they have shunned normal society and live on the margins, stealing - and sometimes killing - to eat."

"How come they like Zira?"

"They think that, under her rule, they will have a better life," said Meers. "And it is hard to argue with Silverfur out there ..."

"Who's Silverfur?"

"You haven't heard of him?" Meers' hands closed convulsively in his lap. "Rasputin Silverfur is - "

"Disgusting, that's what he is!" said Mum darkly.

"Yes, thank you, Nala," said Meers. Turning back to me, he said, "Rasputin Silverfur, Kiara, is, perhaps, the most savage werewolf alive today. He regards it as his mission in life to bite and contaminate as many people as possible; he wants to create enough werewolves to overcome the wizards. Zira has promised him prey in return for his services. Silverfur specialises in children ... bite them young, he says, and raise them away from their parents, raise them to hate normal wizards. Zira has threatened to unleash him upon people's sons and daughters; it is a threat that usually produces good results."

Meers paused and then said, "It was Silverfur who bit me."

"What?" I said, astonished. "When - when you were a kid, you mean?"

"Yes. My Uncle Max had offended him. I did not know, for a very long time, the identity of the werewolf who had attacked me; I even felt pity for him, thinking that he had no control, knowing by then how it felt to transform. But Silverfur is not like that. At the full moon he positions himself close to victims, ensuring that he is near enough to strike. He plans it all. And this is the man Zira is using to marshal the werewolves. I cannot pretend that my particular brand of reasoned argument is making much headway against Silverfur's insistence that we werewolves deserve blood, that we ought to revenge ourselves on normal people."

"But you are normal!" I said fiercely. "You've just got a - a problem - "

Both Mum and Meers burst out laughing, Mum's cheeks turning pinker as she laughed.

"Oh ... my dear girl!" Mum said, when she had calmed down slightly. "You do remind me of myself sometimes, you really do!"

"How come?" I said. I had heard many people say that I was a lot like my mother, but that was the first time I had heard it directly from her - and I'm not going to lie, it felt good.

"Because I used to tell Timon that he had a "furry little problem" in company. Many people were under the impression he owned a badly behaved rabbit - remember, Moonshine?"

"Oh, boy, do I," said Meers, a reminiscent look on his face. "The amount of rabbit food I got before I went home for the holidays, I can tell you ..."

He accepted a glass of egg-nog from Mr Dawson with a word of thanks, looking slightly more cheerful. Meanwhile, I felt a rush of excitement: this last mention of my mother from the woman herself had reminded me that there was something I had been looking forward to asking both her and Meers.

"Have either of you ever heard of someone called the Half-Blood Princess?"

"The Half-Blood what?" said Meers, looking at Mum, who shook her head.

"Princess," I said, watching them both closely for a sign of recognition.

"There is no wizarding royalty, Kiara," said Mum, she and Meers determinedly not looking at each other. "Don't tell us this is a title you're thinking of adopting? I should have thought being the "Chosen One" would be enough."

"It's nothing to do with me!" I said indignantly. "The Half-Blood Princess is someone who used to go to Dragon Mort, I've got her old Potions book. She wrote spells all over it, spells she invented. One of them was Levicorpus - "

"Oh, that one had a great vogue during our time at Dragon Mort," said Meers reminiscently. "There were a few months in our fifth-year when you couldn't move for being hoisted into the air by your ankle."

"Mum, you used it," I told her. "I saw you use it on Triphorm in the Pensieve."

I tried to sound casual, as though this was a throwaway comment of no real importance, but I was not sure I had achieved the right effect; my mother's smile was a little too understanding.

"Yes," she said, "but just because I used it, Kiara, doesn't mean to say that I am the only one who did. As Timon said, it was very popular ... you know how these spells come and go ..."

"But it sounds like it was invented while you were at school," I persisted.

"Not necessarily," said Meers. "Jinxes go in and out of fashion like everything else." He looked at Mum, who nodded and leant towards me.

"Listen, Kiara," she said quietly, "I'm a Muggle-born and, pig-headed as I may have been, I did not once ask my friends to call me "Princess"."

Abandoning pretence, I turned to Meers and said, "And it wasn't Pumbaa? Or you?"

"Do we look like girls, Kiara?" Meers joked. He, Mum and I shared a laugh at that, before I turned serious again.

"I just thought - well, she's helped me out a lot in Potions classes, the Princess has."

"How old is this book, Kiara?"

"I dunno, I've never looked."

"Well, perhaps that will give you some clue as to when the Princess was at Dragon Mort."

As Meers finished this sentence, my father and Chris came back into the room, Chris looking very happy about something, and my father looking just as happy; when Mum asked him what had happened to make them both so happy, he just gave her a secretive smile and said, "I'll tell you later," but every now and again I would catch him looking at me, still smiling that secretive smile. And shortly after this, Ferdinand decided to imitate the Carollers, but before he got to the end of the first line, Mr Dawson stood up and said loudly that it was time for all of us to go to bed, as Sian looked incredibly offended. The Dawson siblings and I bid goodnight to Mr Dawson and our guests on the floor below the guest bedrooms, before we all separated for our own rooms.

As soon as I had shut the door and turned on the lamp, I quickly changed into my nightgown, before I delved into my trunk and pulled out my copy of Advanced Potion-Making before getting into bed. There I turned its pages, searching, until I finally found at the front of the book, the date that it had been published. It was nearly sixty years old. Neither my mother, nor my mother's friends, had (obviously) been at Dragon Mort sixty years ago. Feeling disappointed, I threw the book back into my trunk, turned off the lamp and rolled over, thinking of werewolves and Triphorm, innocent people who had been captured by the Ministry and the Half-Blood Princess, and finally falling into an uneasy sleep full of creeping shadows and the cries of bitten children ...

"He's got to be joking ... "

I woke with a start to find a bulging stocking lying over the end of my bed. I sat up, rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and looked around; the window was almost completely obscured with snow and by the door stood Chrissie, who examined what appeared to be a thick gold chain.

"What's that?" I asked.

"It's from Larry," said Chrissie, sounding revolted. He can't honestly think I'd wear ..."

I looked more closely and let out a snort of laughter. Dangling from the chain inside a golden heart were the words "My Sweetheart".

"Nice," I said. "Classy. You should definitely wear it in front of Tanya and Geri."

"If you tell them," said Chrissie, shoving the necklace into a pocket of her dressing-gown, "I-I-I'll - "

"Stutter at me," I said, grinning. "Come on, would I?"

"How could he think I'd wear something like that, though?" Chrissie demanded of thin air, looking rather shocked.

"Well, think back," I said. "Have you ever let it slip that you'd like to go out in public with the words "My Sweetheart" round your neck?"

"Well ... we don't really talk much," said Chrissie. "It's mainly ..."

"Snogging," I said.

"Well, yeah," said Chrissie. She hesitated a moment, then said, "Can you believe Sian and Kopa have been together this long?"

"I know, I can't believe it either," I said. "They were having a great time together at Beadu's Christmas party, so their relationship looks like it's still going strong."

Looking slightly less cheerful, Chrissie slunk out of my room, closing the door behind her. I felt sad for her, but I pushed my sadness out of my mind as I turned to my presents, which included some makeup from my mother, a selection of The Sugarshacks' best sweets from my father and Grandmother Sarabi; Grandmother Sarafina had given me some Muggle money, that Grandmother Sarabi had exchanged for Galleons. Sian had hand-knitted me a sweater with a large Golden Snitch worked on to the front, and a cushion with Dragon Mort Castle on it, with the same embroidery that she put on all the others, a large box of Fangs' Friendly Funnies products from the twins, a bottle of rose-scented perfume from Chrissie, a Firecracker charm carving from Chris and a slightly damp, mouldy-smelling package which came with a label reading: "To Young Mistress, from Kleaner".

"What's that you've got there, Kiara?" said Chrissie, who had come back in, looking happier than she had before.

"Something from Kleaner," I said, staring at it. "D'you reckon this is safe to open?" I asked.

"Can't be anything dangerous, all of our mail's still being searched at the Ministry," Chrissie replied, though she was eyeing the parcel suspiciously.

"I didn't think of giving Kleaner anything. Do people usually give their house-elves Christmas presents?" I asked, prodding the parcel cautiously.

"Sian would," said Chrissie. "But let's wait and see what it is before you start feeling guilty."

A moment later, I let out a loud shriek and leapt out of my bed; the package contained a large number of maggots.

I heard footsteps running towards my door. A second later, Chris had come barging in, closely followed by Sian. They both had their wands out.

"Are you OK, Kiara?" said Chris, coming straight over to me, as Sian peered cautiously around my room.

"I'm fine," I reassured him, touched that he was concerned for me. "I just received a rather unpleasant gift from Kleaner, that's all." I pointed to the maggots; Chris nodded and sighed with relief.

"It's all right, Sian," said Chris, turning to face her. "Kleaner just decided to send Kiara a package of maggots."

"Eww!" Sian said, shuddering, as she lowered her wand. "Well, at least you're all right, Kiara." She then smiled at me and, without acknowledging Chrissie's presence, she left. Chris turned back to me, staring at me intently with those forest-green eyes of his, and he touched my shoulder gently, sending pleasant tingles up and down my arm, before he, too, turned and left. Once the door had closed behind him, Chrissie burst out laughing.

"Nice," she said. "Very thoughtful."

"I'd rather have them than that necklace," I said, which sobered Chrissie up at once.

Everybody was wearing their new sweaters when we all sat down for Christmas lunch, everyone except Ferdinand (on whom, it appeared, Sian had not wanted to waste one). As there were so many of us, we had to eat in the dining room on the second floor, as the kitchen table did not have enough room to seat us all.

"I know I said it yesterday morning, but it's so good to have you both here," I said to my grandmothers, once we were all seated.

"Well, you can thank Sian for that, seeing as she was the one who invited us," said Grandmother Sarabi, "and it gives Sarafina and I to spend time with our favourite granddaughter over Christmas. Besides, this is the first Christmas that both Sarafina and I have spent with you since you attended Dragon Mort."

"Well, I've always said, Sarabi, that Christmas is a time for family," said Sian, sitting next to her father. "Parsnips, Timon?"

"Kiara, you've got a maggot in your hair," said Chris cheerfully, leaning across the table to pick it out; I felt goosebumps erupt up my neck that had nothing to do with the maggot.

"'Ow 'orrible," said Ferdinand, with an affected little shudder.

"Yes, isn't it?" said Chrissie. "Gravy, Ferdinand?"

In her eagerness to help him, she knocked the gravy boat flying; Sam waved her wand and the gravy soared up in the air and returned meekly to the boat.

"You are as bad as zat Todd," said Ferdinand to Chrissie, when he had finished kissing Sam in thanks. "She is always knocking - "

"I invited dear Todd to come along today," said Sian, shoving the carrots into Kopa's arms with unnecessary force and glaring at Ferdinand. "But she wouldn't come. Have you spoken to her lately, Timon?"

"No, I haven't been in contact with anybody very much," said Meers. "But Todd has got her own family to go to, hasn't she?"

"Hmm," said Sian. "Maybe. I got the impression she was planning to spend Christmas alone, actually."

She gave Meers an annoyed look, as though it was all his fault she was getting Ferdinand for a cousin-in-law, but as I glanced at Ferdinand, who was now feeding Sam bits of Turkey off his own fork, I thought that Sian was fighting a long-lost battle. I was, however, reminded of a question I had with regard to Todd, and who better to ask than Meers, the man who knew all about Patronuses?

"Todd's Patronus has changed its form," I told him. "Triphorm said so, anyway. I didn't know that could happen. Why would your Patronus change?"

Meers took his time chewing his turkey and swallowing before saying slowly, "Sometimes ... a great shock ... an emotional upheaval ..."

"It looked big, and it had four legs," I said, struck by a sudden thought and lowering my voice. "Hey ... it couldn't be - ?"

"Dad!" said Sian suddenly. She had risen from her chair and was looking out of the window that faced the front of the house. "Dad - it's Perdy!"

"What?"

Mr Dawson stood up and went to the window, as did the rest of us. There, sure enough, was Perdy Fang, striding across the snowy driveway, her horn-rimmed glasses glinting in the sunlight. She was not, however, alone.

"Merlin's beard!" said Mr Dawson. "She's with the Minister!"

And sure enough, the woman I had seen in the Daily Squabbler was following along in Perdy's wake, limping slightly, her glossy mane of greying hair and her black cloak flecked with snow. As they disappeared from sight, Mr Dawson said to Joey, who was eating with us and his family, to show Perdy and Rowena Scrimwazz inside and to bring them to the dining room. Joey obeyed at once. When he was gone, the rest of us stood still, waiting, none of us saying a word, and yet I was sure they were all thinking the same thing as I was: what was the cause for this unexpected visit?

A few minutes later, we heard approaching footsteps. There were a couple of knocks on the door, which opened and Joey came in, standing back and keeping the door open to allow Perdy and Scrimwazz to enter.

None of us spoke. No one knew what to say. Perdy didn't know where to look. She tried looking at Sian, but she just glared at her, as did Mr Dawson, who put a supporting hand on his firstborn's shoulder.

Seeing as no one was going to speak, Rowena Scrimwazz coughed nervously and said, "I must apologise for this intrusion. Perdy and I were in the vicinity - working, you know - and she couldn't resist dropping in and seeing you all."

But Perdy showed no sign of wanting to greet any of the family, and judging from the looks on the Dawsons, Tanya and Geri's faces, none of them wanted her there, either. Deciding to break the silence, Sian looked at Scrimwazz and, doing her best to put on a polite smile and welcoming air, said, "Minister, why don't you come in and have something? Perhaps a little turkey or some pudding? Or maybe - "

"No, no, my dear Sian," said Scrimwazz. I guess that she had checked on her name with Perdy before they entered the house. "I don't want to intrude, wouldn't be here at all if Perdy hadn't wanted to see you all so badly ..."

"Indeed?" Sian muttered, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Perdy, who kept her eyes focused on the floor. Scrimwazz went on as though Sian had not spoken.

" ... we've only looked in for five minutes, so I'll have a stroll around the garden while you catch up with Perdy. No, no, I assure you, I don't want to butt in! Well, if anybody cared to show me your charming garden ... ah, that young lady's finished, why doesn't she take a stroll with me?"

The atmosphere around the table changed perceptibly. Everybody looked from myself to Scrimwazz. Nobody seemed to find Scrimwazz's pretence that she didn't know my name convincing, or find it natural that I should be chosen to accompany the Minister around the garden when Chris, Geri and my father also had clean plates.

"Er, Minister - " my father began, but I cut him off.

"No, it's fine, Daddy," I said. "I'd be glad to show the Minister the garden."

I was not fooled; for all Scrimwazz's talk that they had just been in the area, that Perdy wanted to look up her family, I knew that this was the real reason as to why they had come, so that Scrimwazz could speak to me alone.

"It's fine," I said quietly to my parents, Grandmother Sarabi and Meers, who all looked like they wanted to say something. "Fine," I added, as Mr Dawson held out his free arm to stop me.

"Wonderful!" said Scrimwazz, standing back to let me pass through the door ahead of her. "We'll just take a turn around the garden and then Perdy and I'll be off. Carry on, everyone!"

I walked ahead of the Minister, down the stairs, along the corridor and out the front door into the Dawsons' large, neatly-trimmed, snow-covered garden, Scrimwazz limping slightly at my side. She had, I knew, been Junior Head of the Auror Office; she looked tough and battle-scarred, very different to portly Sweets.

"Charming," said Scimwazz, stopping just at the edge of the trees that led to the forest, and looking all around us at the beauty and peace of the garden - well, a part of it, anyway. "Charming."

I said nothing. I could tell that Scrimwazz was watching me.

"I've wanted to meet you for a very long time," said Scrimwazz, after a few moments. "Did you know that?"

"No," I said truthfully.

"Oh yes, for a very long time. But Crighton has been very protective of you," said Scrimwazz. "Natural, of course, natural, after what you've been through ... especially what happened at the Ministry ..."

She waited for me to say something, but I did not oblige, so she went on, "I have been hoping for an occasion to talk to you ever since I gained office, but Crighton has - most understandably, as I say - prevented this."

Still I said nothing, waiting.

"The rumours that have flown around!" said Scrimwazz. "Well, of course, we both know how these stories get distorted ... all these whispers of a prophecy ... of you being the "Chosen One" ..."

We were getting near it now, I thought, the reason Scrimwazz was here.

" ... I assume that Crighton has discussed these matters with you?"

I deliberated, wondering whether I ought to lie or not. I looked deep into the trees, imagining the place where Tanya and Geri had caught the wild gnome that was wearing the tutu on top of the Christmas tree. Finally, I decided on the truth ... or a bit of it.

"Yeah, we've discussed it."

"Have you, have you ..." said Scrimwazz. I could see, out of the corner of my eye, Scrimwazz squinting at me, so I pretended to be very interested in a gnome that had just poked its head out from underneath an old oak. "And what has Crighton told you, Kiara?"

"Sorry, but that's between us," I said.

I kept my voice as pleasant as I could, and Scrimwazz's tone, too, was light and friendly as she said, "Oh, of course, if it's a question of confidences, I wouldn't want you to divulge ... no, no ... and in any case, does it really matter whether you are the Chosen One or not?"

I had to mull that one over for a few seconds before responding.

"I don't really know what you mean, Minister."

"Well, of course, to you it will matter enormously," said Scrimwazz with a laugh. "But to the wizarding community at large ... it's all perception, isn't it? It's what people believe that's important."

I said nothing. I thought I saw, dimly, where we were heading, but I was not going to help Scrimwazz get there. The gnome under the oak was now digging for worms at its roots and I kept my eyes fixed upon it.

"People believe you are the Chosen One, you see," said Scrimwazz. "They think you quite the hero - which, of course, you are, Kiara, chosen or not! How many times have you faced She Who Must Not Be Named now? Well, anyway," she pressed on, without waiting for a reply, "the point is, you are a symbol of hope for many, Kiara. The idea that there is somebody out there who might be able, who might even be destined, to destroy She Who Must Not Be Named - well, naturally, it gives people a lift. And I can't help but feel that, once you realise this, you might consider it, well, almost a duty, to stand alongside the Ministry, and give everyone a boost."

The gnome had just managed to get hold of a worm. It was now tugging very hard on it, trying to get it out of the frozen ground. I was silent for so long that Scrimwazz said, looking from myself to the gnome, "Funny little chaps, aren't they? But what say you, Kiara?"

"I don't exactly understand what you want," I said slowly. " "Stand alongside the Ministry" ... what does that mean?"

"Oh, nothing at all onerous, I assure you," said Scrimwazz. "If you were to be seen popping in and out of the Ministry from time to time, for instance, that would give the right impression. And of course, while you were there, you would have ample opportunity to speak to Harry Potter who, as you know very well, is Head of the Auror Office. Democritus Umber has told me that you cherish an ambition to become an Auror. Well, that could be arranged very easily ..."

I felt anger bubbling in the pit of my stomach: so Democritus Umber was still at the Ministry, was he?

"So basically," I said, as though I just wanted to clarify a few points, "you'd like to give the impression that I'm working for the Ministry?"

"It would give everyone a lift to think that you were more involved, Kiara," said Scrimwazz, sounding relieved that I had cottoned on so quickly. "The "Chosen One", you know ... it's all about giving people hope, the feeling that exciting things are happening ..."

"But if I keep running in and out of the Ministry," I said, still endeavouring to keep my voice friendly, "won't that seem as though I approve of what the Ministry's up to?"

"Well," said Scrimwazz, frowning slightly, "well, yes, that's partly why we'd like - "

"No, I don't think that'll work," I said pleasantly. "You see, I don't like some of the things the Ministry's doing. Locking up innocent people, for instance."

Scrimwazz did not speak for a moment, but her expression hardened instantly.

"I would not expect you to understand," she said, and she was not as successful at keeping the anger out of her voice as I had been. "These are dangerous times, and certain measures must be taken. You are sixteen years old - "

"Crighton's a lot older than sixteen, and she doesn't think that innocent people should be in Azkaban, either," I said. "You're making innocent lives scapegoats, just like you want to make me a mascot."

We looked at each other, long and hard. Finally Scrimwazz said, with no pretence at warmth, "I see. You prefer - like your hero Crighton - to disassociate yourself from the Ministry?"

"I don't want to be used," I said.

"Some would say it's your duty to be used by the Ministry!"

"Yeah, and others might say it's your duty to check people really are Love Destroyers before you chuck them in prison," I said, my temper rising now. "You're doing what Bea Clutch did. You never get it right, you people, do you? Either we've got Sweets, pretending everything's lovely while people get murdered right under her nose, or we've got you, chucking the wrong people into jail and trying to pretend you've got the Chosen One working for you!"

"So you're not the Chosen One?" said Scrimwazz.

"I thought you said it didn't matter either way?" I said, with a bitter laugh. "Not to you anyway."

"I shouldn't have said that," said Scrimwazz quickly. "It was tactless - "

"No, it was honest," I said. "One of the only honest things you've said to me. You don't care whether I live or die, but you do care that I help you convince everyone you're winning the war against Zira. I haven't forgotten, Minister ..."

I raised my right fist. There, shining white on the back of my cold hands, were the scars which Democritus Umber had forced me to carve into my own flesh: I must not tell lies.

"I don't remember you rushing to my defence when I was trying to tell everyone Zira was back. The Ministry wasn't so keen to be pals last year."

We stood in silence as icy as the ground beneath our feet. The gnome had finally managed to extract its worm and was now sucking on it happily, leaning against the trunk of the old oak.

"What is Crighton up to?" said Scrimwazz brusquely. "Where does she go, when she is absent from Dragon Mort?"

"No idea," I said.

"And you wouldn't tell me if you knew," said Scrimwazz, "would you?"

"No, I wouldn't," I said.

"Well, then, I shall have to see whether I can't find out by other means."

"You can try," I said indifferently. "But you seem cleverer than Sweets, so I'd have thought you'd have learned from her mistakes. She tried interfering at Dragon Mort. You might have noticed she's not Minister any more, but Crighton's still Headmistress. I'd leave Crighton alone, if I were you."

There was a long pause.

"Well, it's clear to me that she has done a very good job with you," said Scrimwazz, her eyes cold and hard behind her wire-rimmed glasses. "Crighton's girl through and through, aren't you, Pride-Lander?"

"Yeah, I am," I said. "Glad we straightened that out."

And turning my back on the Minister for Magic, I strode back towards the house.