Author's Notes: Some interesting conversations going on here...

The first night of the holiday Harry didn't sleep until daybreak. He'd wanted to search the Marauder's Map for any clues as to Sirius Black's whereabouts. Before he knew it it'd been time for him to talk to Draco. Harry cast a Silencing Ward before he opened the compact, since Theodore was still asleep.

After the beginning pleasantries, he asked how often Wizengamot justice had been miscarried and what was done for the wrongly accused. Draco explained that sometimes judgments were reversed when new evidence presented itself and that there was hardly anything done to compensate the wrongly accused, since a wealthy family could easily pay to keep the judgment process a lengthy affair and pay for witnesses to add conflicting evidence that would generally rule in favor of the accused.

"Are there holding cells for the accused? You do have those for the appeals process at least?"

"Appeals process?" Draco echoed strangely. "I suppose if you have the Galleons for it, an appeal might change the mind of a few judges, just enough to get a reversal.

Harry frowned at him. "No, not when you pay for a reversal..." He let out a sigh. "Is there an appeals process where the accused can take their case to a higher court for free and impartial re-judgment?"

Draco looked at him inquisitively. "Nothing in the court room is free or impartial."

That was pathetic. Harry was thirteen and even he knew that corruption wasn't a good thing. "So you're saying that those who can afford it never end up in Azkaban even if they're guilty."

"As long as you can prove there's enough doubt about whether you committed the crime or not, then yes."

Thinking this was about the stupidest thing he'd ever heard of, Harry had to close his eyes for a moment. "Are you aware that Muggles have a more just legal system?"

"How? Those savages don't require any proof whatsoever before they burn a person at the stake."

"Criminals aren't burnt alive in the United Kingdom. You're about three centuries out of date."

"So, a Muggle court room is free and impartial?" Draco sounded as if he had a hard time believing this.

"You have to pay your lawyer, but the judges are provided by the government. The judges are supposed to be fair and impartial about applying the law without being bribed. There are laws against that."

Draco's lips had pursed thoughtfully.

"I know you won't believe me, but Muggles are like us without the magic, without the sense of it."

"Theo has told me that Muggles use a skill called eleck-trickity…"

"Electricity," Harry corrected, trying not to be irritated when Draco was actually listening to him instead of dismissing his knowledge of Muggles. "And it's not really a skill. It's energy to run machines."

Draco looked at Harry with an unreadable expression. "…Professor Burbage's expertise at Muggle Studies is world-renowned. You don't mean to tell me she's wrong."

Oh yes, Harry had read plenty of what the Muggle 'experts' had to say when he was trying to find a book on Basic Mechanisms for Tracey last year. A lot of it was inaccurate rubbish. "If the experts don't even know the basic principles of electricity, if they think that 'charge' is just a Muggle term for a spark of synthesized magic, if they don't teach you the difference between voltage and current, then there's no point."

"If it's not synthesized magic, what else would it be?"

"I think you're missing the point…" Harry frowned.

"Which was?"

"A year ago Arthur Weasley asked me what the plug on the end of an electrical appliance was, and he's the Department Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts at the Ministry! And he called the device a dee-vice, which by the way is a useless hunk of metal, glass, and plastic, unless there's electricity going through it."

Draco's platinum blond eyebrows lifted maintaining a blank expression which meant that he hadn't any idea of what Harry was ranting about. "…Plastic?"

"Erm. Man-made material used to make containers and things. You can make so many different types of it cheaply, and there's flexible plastics that don't break as easily as glass…"

Draco frowned in thought. "So the Muggles have synthesized a substance for containment since they couldn't charm glass to be Unbreakable…?"

"I don't know why or how plastic was invented." Harry was a little disappointed at himself.

"Have you ever thought about writing a book explaining basic, rudimentary Muggle Artifacts to others?" Draco's eyes had taken on a calculating gleam.

"I'm hardly a Muggle expert. I only had Muggle schooling for five years before I came to Hogwarts." Harry gestured at nothing in particular. "I suppose I could. Then I wouldn't have to ever again explain that a rubber duck is a brightly colored children's toy that floats in bath water and that variations of the toy can squeak or squirt water when squeezed."

"A toy for infants and toddlers, then?"

"Yes. Dudley had several." Harry grimaced. "I've always preferred showers. I don't see why I would want to soak long enough to get wrinkled fingers."

"The Boy-Who-Lived doesn't like long baths," Draco said as if he were writing it down, and perhaps he was. Draco had warned Harry that his father was hungry for information about him.

"I'll shut this on you if you don't stop," Harry warned, shaking the compact mirror.

Draco smiled easily. "I've never heard you speak of your childhood. You can't fault me for getting a little excited."

"Is that really interesting?"

"Yes, the court records are severely lacking. Nobody wants to read how the Boy-Who-Lived was raised like a house-elf."

Appalled, Harry stared at Draco.

"In circumspect, I should have kept that to myself," his friend said.

"Good day, Draco." Harry went to close the lid.

"Wait, wait! I…" Draco hesitated and then forced the next word to leave his lips, "Apologize. I didn't do it out of curiosity; my father made me do it in exchange for looking at the records on Black's trials."

"I'm sure he wanted you to look for weaknesses," Harry said brutally.

Draco looked revolted. "I would never use anything I found against you."

"Of course, you'd say that. I know that you don't really like me. I overheard you once at Diagon Alley complaining to your father about me."

Draco's face pinked and then twisted.

"It's all right. We're about as contradictory as you get. Me, raised as a Muggle, and you raised as you were meant to be." Harry looked at him sadly, laying on the pity. "I'll even feed you information to keep your father happy if you want."

"I can't believe you!" Draco exploded viciously. That was certainly easier than Harry thought it would be. "You think I bullied Finnigan just to stay on your good side?!"

"Probably."

"You think I've given you a present every Christmas and birthday because my father expected me to?!"

"Likely."

"You think that I deliberately received special permission to stay by your side after that—that chicken tore you up—?!"

"You did? I didn't know that." Baiting Draco wasn't all that bad if it revealed things about the other teen that caught Harry by surprise. It made him a little happy.

Draco gaped at him and then clicked teeth together. A ruthless glare was directed at him. His face was entirely red now.

Wholly happy to recognize humanity in Draco, Harry tried to suppress his expression of it. His lips curled into a flattened grin. So, Draco was fonder of Harry than he acted.

"Just so you know, my father is supposed to think I hate you. If he thought I was going soft, he'd break our friendship off in a heartbeat," Draco said quietly.

Harry's smile disappeared. "Why?"

"I think he expects that preventing a true friendship with you will make certain events easier on me after the Dark Lord rises." Draco looked away from Harry.

Harry's laughter was hollow. "I see. Your father… he doesn't think I have much longer to live, does he? I guess I ought to get a Living Will done, or whatever the magical equivalent is. Wouldn't want all my fancy gifts going back to him."

Draco had a stricken look on his face.

"Thank you for answering my questions. I'll talk to you tomorrow." When there was only silence, Harry closed the compact and cancelled the ward. He fell asleep holding the compact tightly in his palm.

He dreamed fitfully. People were screaming, there were green flashes. His father, James, dead. His mother pleading. A warm hand grabbed his shoulder and a sweat-soaked Harry came awake with a gasp. Theodore was staring down at him worriedly, his hand pulled away from Harry's clammy shoulder. "Harry… you look terrible."

"I'm fine," he said, sitting up. "What time is it?"

"Nearly time for lunch." Theodore hesitated. "Professor Snape told us what happened with the Weasley twins when we'd gone to Hogsmeade. Heard they gave you quite a fright."

"Oh yes. It was terrible," Harry lied with a straight face.

Something began to whistle distantly.

Theodore looked around curiously. "It's not the first time I heard that. It almost sounds like…"

Harry pushed himself up, tapping his wand several times against the side of his trunk. A shrill, tinny whistle exuded from inside. He lifted the object in his palm. His Pocket Sneakoscope was whirling and gleaming. "The Weasleys hand-delivered a Christmas present in the Alchemy Classroom." The Sneakoscope fell silent. "I'd nearly forgotten Ginny sent this to me."

"This is marketed as a child's trinket, liable to sell more that way…" Theodore said, "I guess you wouldn't know that only someone who was a trained Occlumens can keep it silent when they lie?" Theodore had such a serious expression that Harry knew he wasn't putting him on.

An Occlumens must be a person who could perform Occlumency then, which countered a Legilimen's skill.

"Really?" Harry looked at the Sneakoscope with an appraising eye. "Would you happen to know if any of the professors can teach that ability?"

"Well, they say the headmaster can teach any type of magic other than the really Dark ones… and there's always been a rumor that Professor Snape is a skilled Legilimens. Why do you ask?"

"Neville's grandmother is a Legilimens." Harry scowled hating the idea of asking Snape for help with anything.

"Ah, yes. Yes, she definitely is. Everyone says that Augusta Longbottom was a wicked good Obliviator in her heyday. It's why everyone knows better than to mess with her."

"Obliviator?"

"Ah… they're the people who… change memories. They erase or modify memories with Oblivating Spells or Confundus Charms. Most of them work for the Ministry of Magic to keep our world a secret from Muggles when our wars and fights spill out into theirs. Some of them work at St. Mungo's to alleviate traumatic experiences. Of course Psych-Healers only remove the memories that are the root of the problem." Theodore gave Harry a long look.

"I am not having the only memories of my parents erased," Harry snapped. Sally-Anne must have told him. He wondered if she'd told everyone else too.

"Forget I suggested it then."

Harry put the magical device down and went to his wardrobe pulling out clothes to change into.

Theodore took a deep breath. "I thought that maybe not having to hear them scream for mercy might help you sleep better. My mum…" Theodore nearly choked on the word. "My mum died in a right nasty way in front of me. If I still remembered it, the dementors would have affected me like you and the Weasley girl."

Harry looked at his friend, feeling bad for him. "I'm sorry about your mum, Theo."

He gave Harry quite a weak smile. "It was a long time ago. And, most importantly, I don't remember seeing her die. I only remember my other memories of her."

"But I don't have any other memories of my mum," Harry reminded him.

Theodore reached into Harry's still-open trunk and pulled out the two photo albums. "You have these, don't you? And there are friends of hers you can talk to."

"Maybe later," Harry said with a tone of finality, adjusting his Freshened robes.

Placing the photo albums on Harry's bed with a gentle hand, Theodore wistfully nodded.

Harry spent most of the day doing homework and reading the book by Quinn the Sly. He rather liked it as it explained in detail different snake species' preferences, which the Ultimate Compendium had left out. Opalescent Lionsnakes in particular were extremely thirsty creatures like their Spiny-Beak Cockerel sire and enjoyed dark nesting grounds where pests and water could be found plentiful. Harry then read that it took nearly thirteen months for a breeding pair to become established before they sought their Master witch or wizard out. It certainly explained why he hadn't seen a scale or fang of them since he'd handed them over to the headmaster.

The next day, he had a short conversation via mirror with Draco about the Transfiguration essay they had to get done, and then did his usual workout with Theodore. They went to breakfast with Sally-Anne and saw that the Great Hall was filled with its usual twelve Christmas trees, glittering with golden stars, silver streamers and ornaments hanging from the enchanted ceiling. Afterwards, Harry and Theodore parted ways from Sally-Anne to go to the Slytherin common room to work on their essays. After a few hours of that, he and Theodore went to see Sally-Anne in the library.

On their way, they noticed that the rest of the Christmas decorations had been put up, despite the fact that hardly any of the students remained to enjoy them. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe were strung along the corridors and mysterious lights shone from inside every suit of armor. A powerful and delicious smell of cooking pervaded the corridors.

In the library, they were very surprised to find Sally-Anne next to Hermione, feverishly looking through thick, dusty tomes. The Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology, Fowl or Foul? A Study of Hippogriff Brutality, and True Stories and Judgments of Dangerous Winged Creatures were sitting at the front while Sally-Anne and Hermione paged through volumes of something else. Harry peered at the spine: Magical Case Law: 1015-1130 vol xiii.

Before either Theodore or Harry could ask them what they were looking for, Ron came around the corner with another stack of books. He set them down. "Oh good, you can help me. Keeping these two fed is a nightmare."

"And what am I being volunteered for?" Theodore asked.

"Forget it." Ron shook his head. "Bloody Slytherins," he muttered under his breath as he headed back to the shelves of books.

"We haven't found anything to help Buckbeak win his case against the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures yet," Hermione said breezily.

"Hagrid must be really torn up about it," Harry said unhelpfully. He felt like an utter prat. He'd completely forgotten about that. Why hadn't Hermione sent him a letter asking for help?

She shot a look at Harry. "So, we're speaking now?" That explained it.

"You're the one who stopped writing to me," Harry accused, before he'd thought about what he was saying. He looked away feeling ashamed of himself. He was the one who'd stopped talking to her after all.

"Oh, I did? I must've lost track. Sorry. All the electives I'm taking have eaten up my free time."

Leaning back in his chair, Theodore waved a dismissive hand. "Well, I wish you all a hearty 'good luck' at your futile endeavor."

"You owe me a favor," Sally-Anne informed him with a stiff back.

"It'd be a favor wasted then."

Both of the girls snorted.

"We don't need your help if you're normally this callous," Hermione said icily.

Harry knew that once Theodore set his mind there was no changing it. "Why do you say it's impossible?"

"Look, the impartiality of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures is nonexistent. It was established to eliminate Magical creatures that have attacked magical folk, not to provide a fair trial for the accused creature. It's a hearing that always ends in execution, excepting in cases where they can't get near enough to the creature to kill it."

That didn't sound good for Buckbeak's continued existence.

"Worse of all, everyone knows that Committee is in the pocket of Lucius Malfoy. And from what Draco's told me, his father wants that hippogriff dead as soon as possible."

"It doesn't mean we have to give up!" Hermione snapped at him.

"Fine, don't listen to me." Theodore looked at Harry. "What do you want to do?"

"I'm going to help them look."

As if he expected Harry's answer, Theodore nodded and took an empty table across from them. He opened a book to read.

Meanwhile, Harry cracked open Fowl or Foul? and began to read.

On Christmas morning, Harry was woken by the noise of Draco's irritated voice by his ear. He popped open the compact and rubbed his eyes. "Sorry. I stayed up too late."

"You look dreadful."

"And a Happy Christmas to you." Harry put on his glasses.

Draco snorted. "Merry Christmas."

"Draco, I need to owe you a favor."

"Another favor within three months of the last? What do you want?" Draco's eyes were suddenly very alert.

"Maybe it's worth two."

"Don't wind me up. What is it?"

"I need you to stop Buckbeak's execution."

The other teen snorted. "That would be worth more than two, I think."

"Three, then," Harry said.

Draco gave him a look. "I would have to deal with my father for this one and he doesn't owe me any favors at the moment."

"Oh, alright. Four, and that's my final offer."

"Limitless favors?"

"Of course not, and you already know what I won't do."

"Right, can't ask you to kill or bully anyone for me or tell you who you can be friendly with. By the way, how's Hermione?"

Harry was irritated. "I said I wouldn't talk to her until the end of first term. I kept my end of the bargain."

"That you did. An admirable job as well as I hardly saw any letters to or from her either."

"Do we have a deal?" Harry wanted this done as soon as possible so he didn't have to read about all the hippogriffs that were summarily executed in gruesome ways just because an idiot couldn't follow the proper protocols when dealing with them.

"Harry! Quit chatting with your boyfriend. I want to open up presents," Theodore teased through Harry's bed curtains.

"Boyfriend? Boys don't have boyfriends," Harry said with a look of disgust on his face.

"Ah!" Draco sounded disappointed, "And here I thought we were destined to be together!"

Harry wasn't sure how to take that. "Goodbye, Draco." He shut the compact without waiting for a response and set it on the small table by his bed. Pushing the bed curtains back, he shot a look at Theodore. "That wasn't funny."

Theodore laughed. "On the contrary my sweet Muggle-raised friend, it was hilarious!" He laughed more, plopping down on the ground to ravage the paper from his presents.

Without bothering to continue that line of conversation, Harry sat at the foot of his bed. There was a rather large, lumpy present in the heap. Harry picked it up and squinted at the tag. "Strange…"

"What?" Theodore said already tearing open his presents with reckless abandon.

"This is from the Weasley family." His fingers tore through the paper. They had sent him an emerald green jumper with the Slytherin snake knitted on the front, a dozen home-baked mince pies, some Christmas plum cake, and a box of nut brittle. Harry looked at all of it bemused. "What do you think it means?"

"My dear friend, I believe Mrs. Weasley has read your book."

"My book? I haven't written anything."

Theodore gave him a particularly pitying look. "The Sad and Peculiar Muggle Upbringing of the Boy-Who-Lived by Rita Skeeter."

"You're joking," Harry said flatly.

"No, sadly. It's based off the confiscated memories of your Muggle relatives and a few of your schoolmarms. The court records are all there for perusal if someone takes the time to. Quite shocking details of child mistreatment."

"You've read it?"

"No, but my father has. Said it would ruin my friendship with you if I had." Theodore chuckled. "I wouldn't treat you any differently after you've been so nice to me."

Deciding that was all he needed to hear about that, Harry reached for his next package and unwrapped it. "What'd you get from me?" He set the Vindictus Viridian book on hexes and anti-hexes from Sally-Anne to the side, and reached for his next gift

"Goblin-made silver bangles. They're my favorite. Thank you so much, Harry!" After tying his Dark creature-sensing amulet to one of the bangles, Theodore slipped them both on and proudly showed them off.

"You don't intend to get close to Professor Lupin during the boggart-dementor lessons he has for us?" Harry unwrapped another book, this time The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts from Hermione Granger. There was a card with it, but Harry set it aside.

"You misunderstand, Harry. I trust Professor Lupin; I don't trust his werewolf."

Harry opened yet another book this time from Neville Longbottom, The Whomping Willow and Other Violent Plants: A guide to protecting yourself and your possessions by Pomona Sprout. This might prove to be the most useful of all the books he'd gotten for Christmas... though others might have been offended by Neville's lack of tact. "But he takes Wolfsbane Potion."

"Accidents happen and I'm never one to be caught flatfooted."

"Doesn't silver repel them?" Harry said as he opened another lumpy package. It was his Spellfast cloak! He lifted the cloak and could not see where they had repaired the giant gash in it. A piece of parchment fluttered down and had five spells written onto it in Snape's handwriting: Absorption, Alerting, Notice-Me-Not, Repellant, and Durable Charms. The Death Eater hadn't simply repaired it then. He'd bought a new set and reapplied new charms! Harry guessed why Snape had chosen the Durable Charm over the Quietening Charm. So that the cloak would resist physical damage to itself.

"Actually, no…"

"No? Why not?" Harry prompted, but when Theodore didn't say anything he asked, "Then why would you buy silver bangles?"

"Silver and dittany ensures that I survive a werewolf attack." Theodore peered at the bottom of Harry's pile of presents.

Harry visibly shuddered. "Professor Lupin, wouldn't—"

"What's that?" His friend interrupted, pointing.

He had just opened a package of green and silver socks, which were the softest he'd ever touched, from Professor Dumbledore. He looked at what Theodore was talking about at the bottom of the pile of Christmas presents. Whatever it was had a long, thin wrapped part sticking out… Suddenly excited, Harry quickly moved the other presents to the side and ripped the parcel open. He gasped as a magnificent gleaming broomstick rolled out onto the floor.

Theodore leaned over heavily. "Bloody hell, it's a…"

"A Firebolt," Harry breathed out reverentially.

It was beautiful, even better than the poster Harry still had rolled up in his trunk. Its handle glittered a reddish gold as he picked it up. He could feel it vibrating and let it go gently; it hung in midair, unsupported, at exactly the right height for him to mount it. His eyes moved from the golden registration number at the top of the handle, right down to the perfectly smooth, streamlined birch twigs that made up the tail.

"Who sent it?" Theodore asked. "Draco?"

"See if there's a card," Harry told him, running his hand up and down the super-smooth handle.

Theodore picked through the Firebolt's ripped gift wrapping. "There's nothing, Harry. And Draco would have given you a card."

"Well," Harry said completely stunned, "I'm betting it wasn't Professor Lupin."

"What about the headmaster or Professor Snape?"

"Professor Dumbledore gave me those." Harry pointed at the socks he'd abandoned on the floor in his haste to open the broomstick-shaped package. "And Snape gave me a new Spellfast cloak."

Theodore inspected the broomstick suspiciously. "That's odd. To receive a gift like this anonymously, I'd worry about it being jinxed."

Harry's hand pulled back from the broomstick as if burned. It would just be his luck too.

"You should have Professor Snape—"

"Not him!" Harry hissed.

Theodore gave him a very perplexed expression. "… whoever looks at it, you shouldn't let anyone ride it until it's been properly looked over."

Harry sat down again, and the broomstick drifted to the floor to lie next to him. "Let's finish unwrapping our presents and get to lunch."

It wasn't long before they were done. Theodore vanished the gift wrapping and Harry took stock of all that he had received. Even Ginny had sent him a book. It was on stress management fundamentals. Harry felt a little embarrassed that he hadn't thought to get her anything. "Seven books. I think that's a bit much, isn't it?"

"If only they knew you'd be happy with a pair of socks," Theodore quipped.

After dressing in trousers and a shirt, Harry put on his new socks and the green knitted jumper—much to Theodore's mock-horror and laughter. Picking up the broom and toeing on his Dragon-hide boots, Harry headed downstairs to the common room and then upstairs for Christmas lunch. Harry had deliberately left the Spellfast Cloak in his room.

They found that the House tables had been moved against the walls again, and that a single table was set for thirteen. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick were there along with Filch, who had taken off his usual brown coat. Beneath it was a very old and rather moldy-looking tailcoat. There was an extremely nervous-looking first year Gryffindor, the sullen-faced Slytherin Prefect Ivan Renshaw, Ron, Hermione, and Sally-Anne.

"Merry Christmas!" Dumbledore said as Harry and Theodore approached the table. "As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the House tables… Oh and thank you for the wonderful pair of socks, Harry!"

"You're welcome, sir." Harry's eyes flicked to Snape's, who hadn't missed the broomstick in his hand. Harry looked to the Charms professor seated between Snape and Professor McGonagall. "Professor Flitwick, I received this Firebolt anonymously. Theodore suggested I get it checked out by someone."

"Oh dear me!" the professor said, hopping off his chair to inspect the broom. "I'll take that, Mr. Potter. It is very responsible of you to turn it over to us so quickly. I will return this as soon as I verify that it is free of any malicious magic since I know you must really want to fly it."

"Of course, sir," Harry said, offering the broom to the short professor who seemed breathless with anticipation.

Professor Flitwick took it with the utmost care, excused himself, and left the Great Hall in a hurry.

"Have a seat," the headmaster said lightly, which Harry really understood as an order.

Harry and Theodore both took seats near Sally-Anne, who thanked Harry for the book on magical creatures that spent their time primarily in the water. Harry and Theodore thanked her for the gifts she'd sent them. Ron was wearing a maroon knitted jumper which somewhat matched Harry's, and on Hermione's shirt was a Dictum Pin. Harry had thought something of the like would suit her perfectly.

In the background, Harry could hear the professors speak amiably to one another about how excited Filius appeared to be.

"Thank you for the book, Hermione."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you for the Dictum Pin. I'll make good use of it, especially when I'm too tired to concentrate. I'll be able to re-listen to the lectures with the recordings!"

"Like you need something else to help you study, Hermione," Ron complained and then did a double-take at Harry's attire. "You're… My mum… sent you a jumper?"

"Yes, and I like it. It matches the socks the headmaster gave me." Harry lifted his trousers to him. Poor Ron was speechless.

"Crackers!" Professor Dumbledore enthusiastically offered the end of a large silver noisemaker to Snape, who took it reluctantly and tugged. With a bang like a gunshot, the cracker flew apart to reveal a large, pointed witch's hat topped with a stuffed vulture.

When Snape's mouth thinned in displeasure, Harry was the only student who laughed—some of the others exchanged knowing grins—but Theodore cut Harry short with a well-placed elbow to his ribs. Scowling at him, Harry rubbed his side. Theodore gave him a stern look, eyes flicking to Snape. Harry wasn't really that frightened of the Potions Master.

Having ignored Harry, the greasy-haired git pushed the hat toward Dumbledore, who swapped it for his wizard's hat at once, much to Snape's disgust.

"Dig in!" The headmaster advised the table at-large, beaming around.

As Harry was helping himself to roast potatoes, the doors of the Great Hall opened again. It was the bushy-haired professor with exceedingly thick glasses. She glided towards them as if on wheels. She had a green-sequined dress on in honor of the occasion, making her look like an over-sized shiny dragonfly.

"Sibyll, this is a pleasant surprise!" The headmaster stood up to greet her.

"I have been crystal gazing, headmaster," the professor said in a misty, faraway voice, "and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you."

"What's her name again?" Harry asked Theodore, having noticed the look of contempt on Hermione's face. She must not like the Divination professor.

"Professor Trelawney."

"Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate?" The adult continued at her plodding rate, "I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness."

"Certainly, certainly, since Filius is currently indisposed, I doubt he'll mind if you take his place," Professor Dumbledore said congenially, gesturing to the chair between Professors Snape and McGonagall.

Professor Trelawney, however, did not sit down; her enormous eyes had been roving around the table, and she suddenly uttered a kind of soft scream. "Filius dined among you thirteen and now he will be the first to die!"

Harry nearly choked on his food. Theodore thumped him on the back, and Harry had to drink some pumpkin juice so he might stop coughing.

"Now, Sibyll," Professor McGonagall said evenly, "He left before we began to eat."

"I dare not join the table, headmaster, for then we shall be thirteen again! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first die!"

"We'll risk it, Sibyll," Professor McGonagall said impatiently. "Do sit down; the turkey's getting stone cold."

Professor Trelawney hesitated, then lowered herself into the empty chair, eyes shut, mouth clenched tight, as though expecting a thunderbolt to hit the table. Professor McGonagall poked a large spoon into the nearest tureen. "Tripe, Sibyll?"

Harry was very glad he had decided not to take Divination, and now hearing her name he was interested in reading the book of death omens; he might actually get a good laugh out of it.

Professor Trelawney did not respond to the Deputy Headmistress. Instead, she looked around once more. "But where is dear Professor Lupin?"

"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," the headmaster answered, indicating that everybody should start serving themselves. "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day."

It wasn't every Christmas that there was a full moon.

"But surely you already knew that?" Professor Snape asked her, a single dark eyebrow raised. It looked like neither Professor Sprout nor Filch had any desire to join in on the conversation.

Professor Trelawney gave Snape a very cold look.

"Certainly I knew, Severus," she said quietly. "But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous."

He scowled and took another bite of his tripe.

"That explains a great deal," Professor McGonagall said dryly.

Professor Trelawney's voice suddenly became a good deal less misty. "If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him—"

"Imagine that," the Deputy Headmistress said scathingly.

"I doubt," the headmaster said in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, which put an end to the two professors' combined efforts to insult Professor Trelawney's Divination skills, "that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?"

"Yes, headmaster," Snape answered without a hint of resentment.

"Good. Then he should be up and about in no time… Derek, have you had any of these chipolatas? They're excellent."

The first-year boy went furiously red on being addressed directly by Professor Dumbledore and took the platter of sausages with trembling hands.

Harry and his friends chatted about inane things like normal people. He thought it was going to be completely uneventful, since Professor Trelawney behaved almost normally until the very end of Christmas lunch, two hours later.

Full to bursting with food and wearing a party hat that Theodore had stuck to his head, Harry stood up from the table. The Divination Professor shrieked loud enough to wake the dead, "My dear! You'll be the first to die!"

"Probably," Harry said with the grimmest tone he could muster. His classmates all winced instead of laughing like he expected, and everyone had stilled. "I'm kidding, of course," Harry told them. Still, nobody laughed.

Professor Trelawney's eyes opened dramatically, but before she could say anything else, Professor McGonagall said coldly, "Unless a mad axe-man is waiting outside the doors to the entrance hall, I highly doubt Mr. Potter is about to die."

"Wait a moment, I'll check." Harry trotted over to the doors and stuck his head into the next room. "The entrance hall is devoid of any axe-men as far as I can tell, Professor McGonagall," he announced for everyone to hear.

That got laughter from Ron and Theodore and a smattering of chuckles from everyone else, except Snape.

"Potter, mind your attitude," came the sharp rebuke.

"Yes, sir," Harry said grudgingly. At least, Theodore and Sally-Anne had arrived by his side, so they could leave.

Harry had many thank-you cards to write. He hoped that his gifts had been well received by everyone else gone on holiday.