A/N: Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original.
I was asked in a review of my other ongoing story, Iris Potter and the Exile from Asgard (you are reading that one, too, right?) if I enjoy and read your reviews. The answer is yes! Absolutely! I love to see what people think of the story as it progresses, including guesses about what's coming. I can also say that Bonnie loves seeing your reviews at least as much as I do — she spends about as much time editing each chapter as I did originally writing it, so she arguably has as much invested in people enjoying this as I do.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.
Recommendation: This chapter's recommended fic is "The Lion's Pride" by SilentlyWatches. Rufus Scrimgeour tends to be regarded poorly, especially in the context of how he treated Harry Potter. But we only have Harry's perspective on their interactions — what was Scrimgeour's? Maybe teenaged Harry didn't know everything.
Chapter 31 - I'll Be Home for Christmas
Thursday, December 23, 1995, Noon.
"Hey, have either of you seen Ginny?" Neville asked as he sat across from Jasmine and Hermione.
"No," Jasmine answered, "but we only got here a few minutes ago. Why?"
"We usually meet outside the Great Hall before coming in for lunch," Neville said. "I thought maybe she forgot and simply came right in, but... I'm not sure what happened."
"Hey, there's Luna, let's ask her," Hermione said, waving at the blonde Ravenclaw who had just walked into the Great Hall.
"Have you had any classes with Ginny today?" Hermione asked as Luna sat down.
"No, why?" Luna responded.
"We were going to have lunch together, like we usually do," Neville said, "but I haven't seen her."
"Maybe she had to stay after to talk to a professor?" Jasmine suggested.
"But where are the other Weasleys, then?" Luna asked. The others looked around and realized that she was right: none of Ginny's brothers were at the table either.
"Ron was in Potions," Neville pointed out, "and we had that last before lunch. Snape didn't keep him."
"Ron never misses a meal," Jasmine said, "and he's never gotten lost on his way to the Great Hall."
The rest of lunch was eaten mostly in silence as the four students kept looking around, hoping that one of the Weasleys would show up and solve the mystery.
Thursday, December 23, 1995, Evening.
When the four met again for dinner, they were joined by Parvati and Lavender, and still no one had seen any sign of the Weasleys. "Ron wasn't at History of Magic class," Hermione said.
"And he never misses nap time," Jasmine added, earning her a snort from Neville and an elbow from Hermione.
"All kidding aside, I'm a bit worried now," Neville admitted. "Something has to be wrong for all four of them to be missing like this."
"I saw Ginny in the common room this morning," Parvati said, "and she seemed fine."
"The twins looked like their usual selves, too," Lavender said.
"You know who else is missing?" Luna asked. "Most of the senior staff — Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick weren't here for lunch and now aren't here for dinner, either. The first isn't unusual, but all three missing dinner is."
"I suppose it could be a coincidence, but..." Neville let his statement trail off, and no one contradicted his unstated conclusion.
Just then, Professor McGonagall entered the Great Hall. Upon spotting her two favorite students, she quickly headed straight for them. "I'd like the two of you to come see me in my office when you're finished with your dinner," she said.
"Professor McGonagall," Hermione began, "do you know where—"
"Not now," McGonagall interrupted. "Just finish your dinner and we'll talk later." She then exited the Great Hall again without stopping to eat herself.
Now everyone exchanged worried looks. "What do you think it is?" Parvati asked.
"It definitely can't be good," Neville said.
"We won't know until we go see her," Jasmine said as she started wolfing her food.
"Do you think it's about the missing Weasleys?" Parvati asked.
"Maybe, but that seems unlikely," Luna responded. "She was upset about something, and there were a lot of wrackspurts around her head."
"Wrackspurts?" Lavender said in confusion.
Don't ask, Hermione mouthed as she started rushing through her own meal as well.
"Good, I'm glad you didn't take too long," McGonagall said as they entered her office. "Though I'm sorry to have interrupted your meal."
"What's going on? What's the problem?" Jasmine asked as they sat in the chairs in front of her desk.
"I expect you noticed the absence of the Weasleys?" McGonagall responded. "Late this morning they were all given permission to leave Hogwarts early for a family emergency. Arthur was severely injured late last night. He was doing something important for the Order — and no, I can't tell you what."
"How badly is he hurt?" Hermione asked in a near whisper.
"It's... it's serious," McGonagall answered, her voice coming close to cracking. "Part of the problem is that he wasn't found until this morning. He was supposed to be relieved by someone else around midnight, but they never showed up. There was an altercation in Knockturn Alley, and his replacement was sent to St. Mungo's. Had he been reached in time, perhaps his prognosis would be better, but as it is..."
"So... you don't think he'll make it?" Jasmine said as tears welled in her eyes.
"We should never give up hope," McGonagall insisted, "but from what little I heard... well, I think you should prepare yourselves for the worst."
"Can we tell the others?" Hermione asked. "Neville is dating Ginny, and I think he'd want to know."
McGonagall considered that. "You can tell the others that Mr. Weasley was injured and that his children left school early because of it. But if Mr. Longbottom really is that close to Miss Weasley, she might benefit from his support. So you can tell him the seriousness of Mr. Weasley's condition, but leave out anything about the Order."
The two younger witches just nodded, too overcome with emotion to say anything.
"Well?" Voldemort demanded.
"My Lord," Rookwood responded, bowing low, "Our distractions in Knockturn Alley proved most effective. Your servants were able to tie up a large number of Aurors and Hit Wizards for most of the night. Some of our enemies were even injured quite severely."
Voldemort nodded, pleased that that much had gone well, at least. He gestured for the man to continue.
"I have spent all day going over the information I collected, and I'm afraid that if anything, the security on the prophecy spheres in the Department of Mysteries is even stronger than when I worked there."
Voldemort's good mood immediately evaporated, but he refrained from cursing Rookwood yet. "So there's no way around the protections? Only those mentioned in the prophecy can remove a sphere without going insane?"
"No easy way around the protections, my Lord," Rookwood answered. "It is probably possible to unravel the spells on a single sphere, even though they are tied to the protections on all other spheres on the same shelf. However, such an approach will take quite a bit of time as well as skill."
"And the more time it takes, the greater the chances of being caught," Voldemort concluded in annoyance. "When can you start?"
"I already have, My Lord," Rookwood replied. "I anticipated that I would not be able to bring you good news, and it occurred to me that regardless of what decision you made, starting to unravel the protective spells would not interfere. And if for some reason you objected, I could always go back to fix things."
Voldemort smiled, now glad that he hadn't cursed this servant after all. "Very good, Rookwood. Very good indeed. You have done well and shown good initiative."
"Thank you, my Lord," Rookwood said, unable to hide the relief in his voice.
"Unfortunately, there remains one significant error in your mission last night," Voldemort continued.
"My Lord?" Rookwood responded, his relief now edging into fear.
"The blood traitor you encountered guarding the door," Voldemort explained. "My spies tell me that he lives, though he hasn't woken up yet. If he does wake, he might be able to report on you."
"My Lord," Rookwood said in a pleading tone, "He never saw my face — I can guarantee that. I didn't use the killing curse because that would have set off alarms. Instead, I used a combination of lower-level hexes and curses that would cause significant pain and eventually kill — all spells that are minor enough to be ignored by the Ministry protections. I knew it was a risk, but I deemed it more important to have as much time as possible to analyze the prophecy sphere."
Voldemort nodded slowly. "Very well — perhaps you did make the right decision. But so long as the blood traitor survives, he is a potential threat to Our efforts in the prophecy room. You should consider doing something about him to ensure that the threat he poses is not actualized."
Rookwood bowed even lower as he backed out of the throne room, and Voldemort frowned, now wishing that he'd had an excuse to curse the man. We miss Wormtail, he thought, and Narcissa was on her way to becoming such a delicious replacement. We need to decide on who to use next.
Friday, December 24, 1995, Afternoon.
"You're excited about spending Christmas with Sirius, aren't you?" Hermione said about halfway into the trip back to London.
"You could tell?" Jasmine asked curiously.
"Sure," Hermione answered. "In the past, you've never looked happy when we've taken the train home, and the unhappy expression would only grow worse the closer to London we got. Now, though, it's the opposite."
Jasmine smiled. "It is different, isn't it? Though, I'm going to miss you something awful."
"Yeah, I'll miss you, too," Hermione replied, leaving so many more things unsaid because of who else was in the compartment with them. "But I'll be back before the hols are over."
"Where are you going to spend the holiday?" Daphne asked as she turned to Gabrielle. "I'd have thought you would stay in the castle with your sister."
"I will stay here in London," she answered. "I zink Fleur is going home to France."
"Not with family?" Tracey asked.
"Non, I will be with friends," Gabrielle said as she looked at Jasmine and smiled, earning curious looks from the three Slytherins.
"Gabrielle wanted to experience a British Christmas," Jasmine tried to explain. "I encouraged her to spend it with her family, but since she doesn't know if she'll be at Hogwarts next year or not, she wants to experience what she can while she's here."
"Oh, well, that makes sense," Tracey said. "But I think I'd miss my family terribly if I couldn't spend Christmas with them."
"How is everyone's Patronus coming along?" Jasmine asked, trying to change the subject.
"Well enough," Daphne answered. "The three of us are all getting stronger with it, and several of the younger Slytherins are getting a strong mist."
"You three still feel safe in the dungeon, right?" Hermione asked.
Daphne nodded. "I think we'd be in danger if we let our guard down, but they can tell that we're cautious, and they know that we are stronger than the rest of them. Since they don't trust each other enough to all band together to go after us — which would give us trouble — I don't think we have to worry much."
"Good. Remember to say something if it gets worse," Jasmine insisted. "I know it's important for you to handle such things on your own in order to not appear weak, but you don't have to handle it on your own if you think you can't."
"Why do you think we're riding with you?" Tracey asked with a smirk. "Didn't you notice how many Slytherins have walked by this compartment so far?" When the three Gryffindors simply looked confused, Tracey went on, "Sitting with you like this is a step beyond simply studying with you. The latter can be justified by a desire to get better grades and is more readily accepted than purely social interaction like what we're doing now. Even helping to organize support for you last year fits in with impersonal politics. But not choosing to sit with you over and above sitting with our own housemates."
"There is some risk involved, because we're announcing a more personal association with you," Daphne added, "but at the same time, everyone will see that the association goes both ways. People know how you defend your friends, so they'll know that anyone who makes trouble for us will end up dealing with you."
"So in their eyes, you're more isolated if you're merely our study partners," Hermione said, "but by announcing that our relationship is more than that, you implicitly get our protection."
"And without having to fight," Jasmine concluded. She shook her head. "I'm so glad that I argued the Sorting Hat into not putting me in Slytherin. Such convoluted schemes would give me a headache."
"Wait, what?" Daphne asked, her smug smile shifting immediately into an expression of surprise. "The hat wanted you for our house?"
"Oh, yeah, didn't I ever mention that?" Jasmine replied. "It said that I could be great in Slytherin. I guess I'm not sure how serious it was about putting me there, but it sounded serious enough. After having had two encounters with Malfoy, though, I wanted to stay as far away from him as possible, so I kept chanting 'Not Slytherin' in my head." Jasmine's expression turned apologetic as she said, "Also, I have to admit that both Hagrid and Ron got me to think that Slytherin was full of dark wizards and witches. I know now that it's not true, but I guess I wouldn't have been too keen on Slytherin even without Malfoy."
The three Slytherin students were more than a bit shocked at that revelation. "If Malfoy weren't already gone, I'd hex him so bad he'd be begging to withdraw from Hogwarts," Tracey growled. "If you had been sorted into our house and started asserting yourself early, it might have made a big difference — both for those of us inside and for how we're perceived by outsiders."
Jasmine shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Back then I had a lot less self-confidence. From what you've said about how things work in Slytherin, I suspect that I might have tried to hide in a dark corner. I guess it's possible that such a place might have pushed me to assert myself sooner, but it's hard for me to see how."
Daphne, Tracey, and Blaise reluctantly conceded the point, but they still looked upset.
"Don't tell me — you're going to find a way to use that information, aren't you?" Hermione asked.
"You don't mind, do you?" Daphne asked, and Jasmine shook her head. "Then if the right opportunity presents itself, that revelation might prove useful. Lots of people in Slytherin were predisposed to disliking Jasmine not only because of her role in the defeat of You-Know-Who, but also her parents' roles in fighting him. However, many in the house respect power, regardless of ideology, and it was always assumed that you were a powerful witch. So you'd have been given a chance to prove yourself, if nothing else."
"And now you have," Tracey added. "So a lot of the old animosity is starting to make way for some respect. They won't start liking you any time soon (if ever), but they'll respect you, which means they'll work with you if you can show that it's in their interests. Knowing not only that the hat wanted to put you in Slytherin, but also that you had a strong enough mind and personality to convince it otherwise, will earn you a bit more respect."
"Like I said," Jasmine responded with a sigh, "that sort of thinking would give me a headache."
"Understandable," Daphne said with a teasing smile. "You're much better off as a rash, simple-minded Gryffindor."
"Mio Cucciolo! There you are!"
The three Gryffindors noticed that all three Slytherins reacted to that shouted greeting — Daphne and Tracey with smirks and Blaise with a grimace. The reason became quickly evident when a familiar and beautiful woman emerged from the crowd, a hint of expensive perfume preceding her. She immediately embraced Blaise, kissing him several times and fussing over him in a manner that clearly made him uncomfortable. "I'm so glad you're finally home," she gushed. "We all missed you at Yule, but at least we'll have Christmas together!"
"Daphne, Tracey, it's good to see you again," the woman said once she seemed to be done with her son. "And who are your three friends here?" Trying not to look too embarrassed (and not entirely succeeding), Blaise introduced his mother to Jasmine, Hermione, and Gabrielle.
"It is so good to finally meet you, mia cara," she said as she took Jasmine's hands in her own and gave her a frankly appraising look. Jasmine was a little surprised that the woman's eyes didn't shoot up to her infamous scar, though.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Zabini," Jasmine replied formally. "I've been happy to have found a friend in Blaise over the past few months."
Before the older witch could say anything else, Sirius walked up with Tonks and Lupin close behind. "Hey, kitten!" he said, laying a hand protectively on her shoulder before turning to Alessandra. "And you are?" he said peremptorily, clearly suspicious of any stranger getting so close to his goddaughter.
The Italian witch didn't take offense, however, smiling as she replied, "I'm Alessandra Zabini, Blaise's mother. He's told me so much about her, and I've been looking forward to meeting his new friends."
"Ah. Well, I'm Sirius Black, Jasmine's godfather," he said in a more congenial tone as he took her hand and bowed over it, giving it a light kiss. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"The infamous Sirius Black! The pictures in the Daily Prophet do not do you justice — you are far more handsome in person. No, the pleasure is all mine, Signor Black," Alessandra said as she delicately placed a hand on Jasmine's shoulder. "I cannot thank Miss Potter enough for helping il passerotto mio. Blaise is so important to me, and I know he has learned much during his short friendship with your goddaughter."
"Well, Jasmine has always been good to her friends," Sirius responded. "I can't take credit for that, though. Her parents were the same way."
Alessandra beamed as she turned back to Jasmine and gently touched her cheek. "Thank you for all you have done, mia cara. I hope to see you again." She then turned back to Sirius and said, "And it was especially nice to meet you, Signor Black. I hope to see you again as well." She gave Sirius a seductive smile and wink before taking Blaise's hand and leading him away, her hips swaying provocatively under her close-fitting skirt.
The two Slytherin witches also said goodbye before leaving with their families, and the remaining Gryffindors began walking out towards the barrier that led to muggle King's Cross.
"How are we getting home?" Jasmine asked, feeling pleased to be able to refer to Sirius' house as "home." Judging by the look on his face, he felt the same way.
"We're going to walk," he answered. "It isn't that far."
"Ms. Zabini seemed quite taken with you," Tonks observed, giving her cousin a nudge. "I'm surprised you didn't take the time to set up a date."
"He used to be more on the ball," Remus chimed in. "Getting slow in your old age, Padfoot?"
Sirius snorted. "She is a beautiful witch, I'll grant you that; but I like living, thank you very much. I'm not going to get involved with someone who's likely to off me in a couple of years."
Jasmine and Hermione exchanged a significant look before Hermione said, "You shouldn't believe all the rumors so easily."
"Oh?" Sirius asked. "Do you know something I don't?"
"Quite a lot, I'm sure," Jasmine shot back with a grin, earning her a chuckle from Tonks and Remus. "But on this specifically? Definitely."
"We can't say more because we were told things in confidence," Hermione added. "But if, for the sake of argument, if you aren't at risk for getting poisoned, cursed, or otherwise assassinated in your sleep like the rumors say, would you be amenable? We wouldn't want to make inquiries if you're not interested in the first place."
Sirius didn't respond with the expected quip; instead, he kept walking with a thoughtful expression on his face.
"I think you should give it a shot," Remus said encouragingly as the silence lengthened. "You don't get many chances to meet other women, after all. And you especially don't encounter many women who wouldn't hold a grudge against you for some of the things you did in school."
"And she's not even a cousin!" Tonks pointed out. "That's an awfully big advantage among British purebloods."
Finally, Sirius nodded. "Yes, I think I might. At least, I'd try a few casual dates to see whether there's any chemistry there. She's beautiful, cultured, friendly, beautiful, she seems to like you, kitten... yeah, there's enough there to make a casual date or two worthwhile."
"Then we'll look into it," Jasmine said, "but it won't be until after next term starts."
"No problem," Sirius responded. "That gives me time to learn a little Italian and brush up on my table manners."
"Surprise!"
Sirius had been right: the walk from King's Cross to Grimmauld Place wasn't long; yet none of the young witches would remember a second of it because as soon as they walked in the door, they were surprised by the presence of a large group of relatives from France: the Grangers, Fleur, Apolline, Sybine, and Adrienne.
"Mum, Dad, I didn't know you were coming!" Hermione cried as she leapt into a three-way hug with her parents. "I missed you so much!"
"Maman!" Gabrielle cried out herself, pulling Apolline into an embrace that was quickly joined by Fleur and Adrienne.
"Please tell me that they aren't all visiting for the evening, then heading back to France?" Jasmine said to Sirius.
"No worries," Sirius replied with a broad smile. "They're all staying for the full holiday. Given how close you all are, I thought it would be nice for you to all spend it together instead of pining away for each other, making yourselves miserable."
"Thanks, Sirius!" Jasmine exclaimed as she squeezed her godfather tightly. It wasn't long before she was being hugged and greeted by everyone else as well — something that Jasmine still had a little trouble with, though she was getting used to it — and found that she enjoyed it.
Friday, December 24, 1995, Evening.
Christmas Eve was spent with everyone packed in the sitting room, drinking hot cocoa and catching up as they shared stories that hadn't made it into letters. Gabrielle and Fleur sat on either side of Apolline and Sybine, leaning in close while Adrienne sat in a chair next to them.
Instead of sitting between her parents as she once would have done, Hermione sat on a couch with her parents on one side and Jasmine on the other — thus conveniently forcing her and Jasmine to squish close together in order to make enough room. Sirius and Remus sat on separate chairs, with one wondering why the two witches had arranged themselves like that and the other knowing full well why, but not saying anything.
It was a mostly happy evening, though no one was able to completely ignore the fact that someone dear to them was currently in St. Mungo's, fighting for his life, and that his family was spending this Christmas holiday agonizing over what had happened rather than celebrating.
"I assume you haven't learned anything new about Mr. Weasley?" Hermione asked Sirius early in the evening.
"Only that he hasn't woken up yet," Sirius answered. "I still haven't even heard what exactly was done to him — only that it was serious and life-threatening."
"I feel so sorry for him," Emma said. "He seemed like such a nice man, if a bit eccentric."
"He's not the most eccentric witch or wizard I've met," Remus said, "not by a long shot; but he's easily one of the nicest. It's little wonder that he has such a nice family."
"Do you think we'll be able to go visit at any point?" Jasmine asked. "Even if he hasn't woken up, I'd like to show my support somehow."
"Tonks said she'd stop by tomorrow before coming over here," Sirius said. "As an auror and a member of the Order, she can get away with doing that. I'll ask her what she thinks. Maybe we can arrange something on Boxing Day."
"That would be great," Jasmine replied. "I don't want to intrude or anything, but I also don't want to stay completely away."
"I think they'd like that," Sirius said. "You have a long holiday this year, so I'm sure we'll be able to find the time at some point."
"While your mother gets changed for our traditional dinner out, why don't you tell me about what you've been learning this term?" Karl Greengrass said as he sat in a chair by the fireplace in his lounge.
"You mean what I've learned in my classes, or in my... extracurricular activities?" Daphne asked.
Karl snorted. "I already know what Hogwarts classes teach. I'm more interested in whether your other activities are worth all of the time you say you're investing in them. There are other things you could be doing while still maintaining a connection to Miss Potter and her group."
Daphne smirked slightly, knowing that her father continued to be more than a bit skeptical of her decision to so closely align herself with Jasmine. Unfortunately, I can't tell the whole truth of how important what I'm doing is, or the full extent of the benefits I'm getting, she lamented. I can, however, put to rest any concerns he might have about whether I'm learning anything useful.
She pulled out her wand and looked inquiringly at him. "I assume that with the full defenses active on the house now, underage magic will be masked?" When her father nodded, she cried, "Expecto Patronum!" A well-defined, silvery-white fox burst forth and started bounding around the room, looking for threats.
Her father quite predictably jumped out of his chair in surprise, then gazed in wonder at the patronus his daughter had created. "My word," he whispered. "Even I can't produce a fully corporeal patronus. No one your age should be able to. I don't think there's anything else you could have done that would have impressed me more."
With a sly grin, Daphne knelt down and whispered to the fox, which immediately sped through the closed door and out of the room. "Wha...?" her father tried to ask.
A minute later, her mother came running into the lounge, wearing her bathrobe and with only half her makeup done. "Karl, Daphne, what's going on? Some sort of fox that looked... well, looked like a patronus jumped up on my makeup table and insisted that I come down to the lounge immediately! What's more, it spoke with Daphne's voice!"
Daphne's father dropped heavily into his chair and took a long pull from his whiskey.
Saturday, December 25, 1995, Christmas Morning.
Christmas was a delight for Jasmine, whose only good memories of the holiday came from the past four years — and even then, they had all occurred in the confines of Hogwarts with a couple of friends. This was her first experience of celebrating Christmas at a place she truly felt was home — and with what felt like a large, extended family, too.
It was new, it was exhilarating, and Jasmine came close to tears several times over the course of the day because she was so overcome with unfamiliar emotions. Fortunately the others understood and didn't insist on asking her what was wrong every time she turned away to wipe at her eyes, something for which she was incredibly grateful.
Sirius had splurged shamelessly, even in his gifts for the Grangers and the veela guests. He told people not to complain because he'd been in prison for thirteen years and on the run for nearly two more, so he was making up for not having been able to celebrate any kind of holiday in a long time. Fortunately the Black Family fortune was still such that he could enjoy himself spending on nice gifts and not feel the pinch.
While Jasmine appreciated the nice clothes Sirius got for her, she was far more enthralled by a photo album he included. With "Jasmine Dorea Potter" written in gold lettering on the cover, it contained a wealth of pictures of her parents and her first year with them. She already had one photo album of her parents which Hagrid had given her after her first year, but this new one had even more photos, none of which she'd ever seen before.
Jasmine and Hermione received a set of magical hairpins and matching magical jewelry boxes from the Grangers. The hairpins were spelled to hold hair in a variety of styles while the jewlery boxes were expanded on the inside to hold far more than they could otherwise. Fleur and Gabrielle gave them matching bronze daggers, heavily enchanted by the veela for balance, sharpness, and strength. They were also spelled so their owners could more easily catch them by the handle when summoned back.
The most spectacular gifts were probably the sleeveless basilisk-hide tunics which Apolline, Sybine, and Adrienne had brought from France. "These are the first," Apolline explained, "but others will be completed soon. Just tell us who gets them and they will be provided."
"I know we need three for the muggle who trained Dobby and Winky," Hermione said as she ran her hands along the scaled exterior of her new tunic. "I suppose one for each of the members of our study group. That's nine more."
"One each for Sirius, Remus, and Tonks," Jasmine added. "And of course you four."
"Us?" Sirius asked. "You don't have to—"
"I want you protected," Jasmine interrupted. "No arguments."
"This looks incredible," Remus marveled as he ran his fingers over Jasmine's. "What sorts of enchantments are on it?"
Apolline and Adrienne shared a look before the latter answered, "You must keep this information to those who receive one — the types of enchantments we can apply is a closely guarded secret. No one outside the veela is normally allowed to own anything of this level of quality."
"Why are you giving some of them out, then?" Emma asked.
"The material is only available because of Jasmine," Apolline explained. "She slew the basilisk and thus had the right to its corpse. Since it was so large, its hide will produce a large number of tunics, many of which will be purchased for elite veela warriors. Providing a few for Jasmine and her friends is our way of saying thank you — especially since we know that they will probably be needed."
"There are quite a few enchantments on this," Adrienne said, returning to Remus' question. "There are spells to make it snug even as the owner grows, to keep the wearer cool or warm depending on the outside temperature, to provide comfort inside, and to self-repair minor damage like scrapes, scorch marks, and the like. Then, of course, there are several different spells to make it more resistant to both magical and physical damage, all reinforcing the natural strength of the hide."
"All of those enchantments for comfort are intended to make it easier for you to wear them all the time," Sybine added. "These tunics won't do any of you much good if you leave them in your trunks."
"How is all of that possible?" Remus asked. "I didn't think that an object that was already so magical could get anything beyond the most rudimentary enchantments. Even dragonhide clothing enchanted with a few basic comfort charms is prohibitively expensive due to how hard it is to do, and dragonhide isn't infused with nearly as much magic as the skin of a millennium-old basilisk."
"Well, that's another secret — one that is even more important that you keep within the family," Sybine answered. "Veela are superior enchanters because of the manner in which we do it. The goblins, for example, do their enchanting as individuals — a single apprentice learns from a single master, then goes on to apply enchantments alone, as an individual. This is how most human wizards and witches do their spell work, in fact."
"For veela," Apolline continued, "family and loved ones are everything. Spread through our various enclaves are groups of women who live together and do enchantments together. The love and harmony of their home and relationships is the foundation for the magic they wield. Instead of a single individual trying to force an enchantment onto an object, a group of mothers and daughters, sisters, friends, and lovers work in concert to gently weave enchantments into an object, allowing the new magic to work in harmony with whatever magic was already there. We blend our own magic together, and that allows us to seamlessly meld our power with that of the object, regardless of how much power was there to begin with. This allows for more complex enchantments with stronger effects."
"That's amazing," Sirius commented as he examined one of the tunics. "I guess I can see where that would make at least certain types of spells work better. I'm used to doing magic by myself, so I didn't even realize such a thing was possible."
"Few do anymore," Apolline replied sadly. "It used to be more common, but as far as I know, the veela are the only ones today who still practice magic in that manner."
Saturday, December 25, 1995, Evening.
"So, what have you been doing since you stopped teaching at Hogwarts, Mr. Lupin?" Emma asked during dinner.
No one missed his grimace as he answered, "Please, call me Remus. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to do much. It's hard to get work as a werewolf."
"And it's much harder today than it used to be," Sirius added with a scowl.
"Really? Why is that?" Lindsey asked.
"The laws in wizarding Britain have never been kind to werewolves," Remus explained, "but about a year and a half ago the Wizengamot started passing legislation that's made it all but impossible for a werewolf to find work in the wizarding world."
"Why did they do that?" Emma asked. "What was wrong with the old rules?"
"Umbridge," Sirius spat out like a curse. "She's vehemently anti-everything that she doesn't consider a fully human pureblood wizard or witch, and she seems to have a special hate for werewolves."
"What made her start—" Jasmine began to ask, but she was interrupted by Hermione exclaiming, "Snape!"
"Huh?" Jasmine said quizzically, looking at her girlfriend.
"It was Professor Snape, don't you see?" Hermione replied. "What happened a year and a half ago that would have made it easier to change how werewolves are treated?"
"Snape revealing Remus' condition!" Jasmine said as her eyes grew wide.
"That sonuva..." Sirius started to say before catching himself. "Just because he didn't succeed in getting me kissed by a Dementor, he ratted you out, Remus, and as a consequence made it impossible for you to get any sort of decent job."
"And did the same to every other werewolf in Britain," Remus growled. "Not that all of them care about such things, but I know that I'm not the only one who'd prefer to live a quiet, peaceful life."
"What a horrid man," Emma said. "I must say, everything I hear about him makes him seem worse and worse."
"Why does Dumbledore keep him on staff, again?" Lindsey asked. "I can't imagine any muggle company, much less a muggle school, allowing such a person to hold any sort of job with them, never mind one with so much power and authority."
"Dumbledore insists that he trusts Snape," Sirius answered. "He won't say why, though. Just that he trusts the git."
"Well, he's the only one," Jasmine muttered.
"Let's not waste time thinking about grinches like Snape," Lindsey said into the morose silence that followed. "Christmas is a time to be happy."
"Grinches?" Sirius asked in confusion.
"Oh, we have so got to get you a TV," Hermione said with a smile.
Sunday, December 26, 1995, Morning.
Hermione and Jasmine were at a complete loss for words as they looked at Arthur Weasley in his hospital bed. The once vibrant, healthy man was now gaunt and broken as he struggled to breathe. Jasmine reached out and put a hand on Mrs. Weasley's shoulder while Hermione did the same for Ron. In the back of the room, Sirius and Remus spoke in hushed tones with Bill and the twins while Neville stood next to Ginny near the door, one arm wrapped around her shoulders.
"Thank you for coming," Mrs. Weasley finally said, her voice hoarse from the strain of the past two days. "If he were awake I know he'd appreciate seeing you. Of course I'll tell him you came by as soon... as soon as..." She simply couldn't get any more words out; instead, she grabbed her husband's greying hand and sobbed quietly.
Jasmine turned and went to the back of the room, hoping she might learn something. Sirius didn't even wait for her to ask, though, and simply shook his head. "No, they haven't figured out how to heal him."
"I thought the healers here were good," Jasmine said, anguished. "Why can't they do anything?"
"They suspect he was hit with a lot of different low-level curses and hexes," Sirius explained. They aren't sure, but that's their working theory right now. If that's what happened, then they aren't the sort of thing that anyone here is used to seeing and treating. At the same time, though, the spells seem to have been combined in a way that makes them extremely dangerous. Everyone is stumped."
"It's like giving someone a bunch of different potions that, on their own, would each make the person slightly ill," Bill said, "but all together, they make the person violently sick. By the time the potions have combined in his system, it's impossible to figure out exactly what was given and what the countermeasures should be."
"Right now, the healers are limited to treating the symptoms," Sirius continued. "That won't cure him, though. It will only keep him from getting worse too quickly. Either he beats all of the hexes and curses on his own, or they figure out what he was hit with so they can start countering them."
"And neither seems likely right now," Bill said tiredly. "But that's why there's family in here at all times, to encourage him to fight this. And the healers are monitoring him constantly as well."
"I'm surprised to see you here," Hermione said to Neville after talking to Ron for a bit.
"Just a lucky coincidence," Neville explained. "I was here visiting my parents with my gran when I saw some red hair down the corridor. Since I knew Mr. Weasley had been injured, I decided to investigate."
"I'm glad you did," Ginny said as she pressed against him more closely. "Thank you."
"It helps to have someone who's not immediately affected," Hermione commented. "Neville can stand a bit stronger in the face of this than your brothers can, so you can lean on him and draw more strength from him."
Ginny gave a wan smile, relieved to have the words to explain why it felt better and easier to lean on Neville — literally and figuratively — than on Bill, despite the fact that Bill was her favorite brother.
Sunday, December 26, 1995, Afternoon.
Adrienne was surprised to receive an owl not long after the others had returned from St. Mungo's, and was even more intrigued when she read the letter it was carrying. She showed it first to Apolline and Sybine, then later to the younger witches when they had some privacy. It was a note from Lufestre, reporting that the two gifts from the Yule ritual were small brooches made of the same silvery metal with a rainbow sheen, shaped into symbols of the goddess whom the goblins worshipped.
She wouldn't divulge what exactly they looked like because it was a long-standing taboo to reveal the image to outsiders, but she assured them that there was no obvious connection between the shape of the brooches and the other gifts, so she didn't think it was relevant to the mystery of who made them all — except, of course, for the fact that no non-goblins should have been even vaguely aware of what the symbol should look like.
No one was surprised that the news from the goblins only deepened the mystery rather than solved it. Disappointed, perhaps, but not surprised.
"Are you going to tell your families about those bracelets?" Fleur asked.
Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other for a moment, then Hermione said, "We've been talking about telling our families the truth. All of the truth. I think it would be best to do it before New Year's Eve. It will let us start off the new year in a more open and honest way."
Jasmine nodded. "And it makes sense to include the bracelets as well."
"Well, I'm glad we'll be here, just in case you need any help explaining things," Apolline said.
"That occurred to us as well, once we realized that we'd all be together for the holidays," Jasmine said.
"Say, Sirius, where's Kreacher?" Hermione asked. "I don't think I've seen him at all since we arrived. Usually he'd have skulked by at least a couple of times by now, muttering about half-breeds and the House of Black being shamed by us all."
"He, uh, spends a bunch of time working elsewhere these days," Sirius answered evasively. "I'm afraid I can't say more than that."
"Elsewhere, huh?" Jasmine said.
"Nope, not saying a thing," Sirius insisted, shaking his head.
"Got a girl stashed in a love nest somewhere, Padfoot?" Remus asked.
Had Sirius been drinking, he'd have spit it out when he heard that question. Instead he visibly shivered and said, "No, nothing like that. Nothing like that at all."
Sunday, December 26, 1995, Evening.
"Jasmine Dorea?" Gabrielle asked as she looked through Jasmine's new photo album. "Your middle name is Dorea?"
"Yes, I'm named after my grandmother," Jasmine answered. "She was Dorea Black, and was... Sirius, how was Grandma Dorea related to you?"
"She was my mother's aunt," Sirius said, "though she was only five years older than my mother. She was unusual in that she wasn't named after a star or constellation, as has been traditional in my family."
"The name is Greek," Apolline said. "It means 'gift,' and is an old variation on the name Dora."
"Huh, I didn't know that," Sirius responded. "There are a couple of women in the Black family with Dora as part of their names. Elladora and Callidora, for example."
"Those are Greek, too," Sybine said. "They can both mean 'gift of beauty,' though Elladora might also mean 'gift of the whirlwind,' depending on the origin of Ella."
"Well, you learn something new everyday," Sirius said.
No one noticed Hermione gazing off into the distance, deep in thought.
Monday, December 27, 1995, Afternoon.
He wasn't sure when exactly he regained consciousness, he just suddenly realized that he was awake. He wasn't sure where he was, either, but it was quiet, which unnerved him a bit. He tried to think back to the last thing he could remember, but all he could come up with was pain. Lots and lots of pain.
Gradually he started to hear sounds, but they seemed distant, and he couldn't quite make out what they were.
"Artie?" came a voice that sounded close, but it was hard for him to focus.
"Artie?" it asked again.
He found himself able to look around, and when he did he recognized the figure standing in the doorway. "Mum?" he exclaimed. "What are you... but you're..."
She nodded and stepped inside the room — which he now realized was a hospital room.
"Come along, Artie, it's time to go."
"But... but... me?" he asked. "Why?"
"Because it's time."
"But... what about..." he looked around the room and saw several people who appeared to be asleep.
"They'll be fine," she said gently.
He looked at her in disbelief, so she added, "Not right away, to be sure, but they'll manage. They're all strong."
"Are you certain?" he asked. "I mean, isn't there any chance? Any at all?"
She shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid not. You've already been kept too long, and that's been making things worse for everyone."
He sighed and slowly got up out of the hospital bed. He had expected that it would be harder to walk towards the door, but he found that with every step it became easier.
"Why you, Mum?" he asked. "I mean, why not Dad? Or both?"
"It's always the person you miss the most," she answered. "For me, it was my sister, Callidora. I expect you'll come for Molly."
Arthur nodded slowly, then took his mother's outstretched hand and exited through the bright doorway.
Magical alarms sounded, but they were soon drowned out by the cries of a family that still needed its husband and father.