Chapter Seventeen: A Quiet Christmas

Harry didn't quite remember the journey back towards Hogwarts, or how exactly they came to be in Dumbledore's office with all of them talking over each other quickly, scrambling to explain what had happened. He remembered only that he wanted desperately to go into the Forbidden Forest, intent on finding the creature—this new Xenomorph—that had burst out from the chest of Madam Puddifoot only perhaps half an hour ago. He remembered Ron gripping his arm, desperately pulling him away as Hermione took off down the path towards the castle, screaming out to the both of them to hurry up. Harry had fought hard against him, convinced that if he could just get deep enough within the trees to where it was quiet—and if the others could just shut up for a minute —then he would be able to hear it with his Parselmouth. The whole thing was a blur of adrenaline, dread, and the need for immediate action. So it was pure agony to be waiting here now in Dumbledore's office across from the headmaster himself, sitting comfortably when they should all be out searching the depths of the forest at this very moment. Who knew how long they had until the thing grew?

"All of you," said Dumbledore, infuriatingly calm, "slow down. One at a time."

"It's back," said Harry, exasperated. Dumbledore looked at him, his piercing blue eyes seeming to see the scene inside his mind. Once again Harry wondered if he could read minds. "I mean… there's another one. Another creature like the last one."

"Are you certain of this?"

"It killed her!" shouted Ron suddenly. "It bit through her from the inside and—" He stopped, breathing hard, pale and in shock. Hermione watched him, scared, as though she though he was about to faint or be sick.

"Harry?" prompted Dumbledore, apparently not noticing Ron's outburst.

"It's true," said Harry, speaking slowly. "I was inside her the whole time—the tea shop owner, I mean. She was making our order behind the counter and then she screamed. Then she just… fell to the ground. She screamed again and then she stopped moving. And that's when I could hear it. When everything went quiet."

"I believe you. How did it sound? Could you understand it?"

"No," said Harry, trying to hear the garbled voice in his head again. How similar it had been. "It sounded just like the other one, just quieter. Smaller. It was almost Parseltongue, enough for me to hear it but not understand it."

"What happened then?" asked Dumbledore, his eyes never leaving Harry's face.

"It escaped through the front door the moment it was opened and I chased after it. We think it went into the Forbidden Forest."

"What did it look like? Are you certain that it was the same species?"

"It looked like a snake, but its head was just like the other one… all smooth and no eyes. It will probably have arms and legs in no time."

Dumbledore was silent for a while, only turning his head to stare out the large window at the grey glare of the snowy sky outside. Little flurries of snow drifted slowly downwards, gradually mixing with the beginnings of raindrops. In the silence of the headmaster's office, they could faintly hear the tapping of them against the glass like gentle fingertips. Eventually Dumbledore turned back to address Harry.

"I would very much like to retrieve this memory from you, Harry, and place it in a vial for the Pensieve—with your permission, of course. I suspect that it may come to be that the only way to convince those that may need convincing of the legitimacy of these events is for them to view your personal account. I hope that it does not come to that, but nevertheless it is best to retrieve these memories while they are clearest."

Harry did not object. It would be a welcome relief to have the severity of the horror dulled down like the others. Dumbledore's reasons for retrieving Harry's memories from their time in the Chamber of Secrets had been twofold: to create a record of these historical events for future reference, and for a quick and effective way to preserve Harry's sanity. Harry would still need to face those memories himself in the long term, but for the moment it was enough to have them not plague his mind and his nightmares.

Dumbledore stood and walked to the cabinet where the Pensieve was kept and opened it. He picked up a single glass vial and brought it back to the desk, setting it down between them. He then drew his wand from his robes and leaned in towards Harry. Ron and Hermione watched on in silence, having never been witness to one of these memory retrievals. "Try to relax, Harry, and focus on what happened in Hogsmeade today," said Dumbledore.

Harry closed his eyes and replayed the events. He then felt the slight tug on his mind as the memory was pulled from his temple onto Dumbledore's wand tip, the vivid colours and sounds of the scene seeming to fade to a dull grey. Once it was done, Harry's memory hung from the wand tip like a lofty strand of a spider's web, and Dumbledore carefully lowered it into the narrow opening of the glass vial. Harry slouched slightly in his chair, the tension in his body easing somewhat. Now, the event in the tea shop was to him not so much something he had directly experienced, but more like something that he knew of for a fact.

As Dumbledore strode across the room to put away the vial in the Pensieve cabinet, a loud tapping came from the large office window. With no more than a mildly surprised "Ah!" that signified that he had been expecting it, Dumbledore walked towards the window to let in the owl that was waiting with a letter held in its beak. He took the letter and the owl turned and fluttered off from the ledge, disappearing into the snowy sky. He then opened the letter and read it silently before refolding it and putting it aside.

"Minister Cornelius Fudge will be here shortly to discuss today's incident. I would like for you three to stay and answer any questions he may have, and to give your accounts as accurately as you can."

"Professor?" asked Hermione quietly, "does that mean the Ministry is already in Hogsmeade?"

"I believe they are, and they will be investigating everything quite thoroughly. The minister is probably overseeing it himself due to the similarities between the late Madam Puddifoot's injuries and those sustained by the Basilisk a year ago. If this is the same kind of creature as before, as I believe it is, then it is quite likely that the entire Department of Magical Creatures is down there right now, searching everywhere they Xenomorph could feasibly hide."

"It'll be in the Forest," said Harry with certainty.

"It could just as easily be hiding in someone's home. Nevertheless, the best thing you three can do to help right now is wait here for the minister and tell him your accounts. Every detail will help."

And so they waited in agonising silence. Harry kept realising that he was gripping the arms of his chair and sitting stiffly, and repeatedly forced himself to relax, only to tense up a few minutes later and do it all again, his brief calm already gone. They should have been doing something! The Xenomorph last year had grown to the point of laying its own legs in only two weeks. If this one had indeed escaped into the Forbidden Forest, it would be impossible to find it before it had grown into a dangerous foe capable of hiding in plain sight and rapidly ambushing those that hunted it.

Their wait, fortunately, was brief.

An angry, ranting voice came quickly up the spiral staircase outside the closed office door, which Harry quickly recognised as that of the minister. The words became clearer the closer they got before falling silent as the door burst open, revealing two men. The man in front was Cornelius Fudge in his trademark lime green bowler hat and pinstripe suit under a black cloak. The man behind him Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was tall, dark, and handsome, his bald head complementing the single gold hoop earring that he wore. He was an Auror, and often worked as the minister's bodyguard.

Dumbledore rose to greet him. "Cornelius, what a pleasure to see you."

Fudge looked quickly at Harry, Ron, and Hermione as they sat in their chairs, watching him, before looking again at Dumbledore. "You know all about it, then? One got out, and you've already gotten Mr. Potter involved? Hmm?"

"Harry was present at the scene, Minister, and he and his friends came straight here to inform me."

Fudge closed his eyes for a moment, his eyebrows raised, then sighed. "Of course he was. And you're aware of what it did to the tea shop owner? How the injury she suffered is remarkably similar to the one that killed your Basilisk last year?"

There was a pause, underscoring the subtle words of blame that weren't spoken. "Minister," said Dumbledore, "I just want you to know that the school's services are at your disposal in aiding the extermination of this new Xenomorph, and that I will work closely with the Ministry to—"

"You have done enough already, Dumbledore. You let one of them escape!" said Fudge loudly, the pretence dropped. "How did your little tale go? The one that only you and Mr. Potter can corroborate? Yes, that's right… you found the queen in the Chamber of Secrets where it had already laid its eggs. Then you killed the beast and set the entire place alight—with some very powerful dark magic, I might add—destroying the offspring. Obviously, you failed in doing that as one made its way into a Hogsmeade cellar. I already have the entire Department of Magical Creatures searching the village for the thing. It will be found and destroyed by the end of the day, I can promise you that, and it won't even be a major story in the Prophet—as much as I would love for them to run story after story on your failure… The best thing you can do, Dumbledore, is to let the Ministry take care of it the way you should have last time, and not risk the life of an eleven-year-old boy—"

"Twelve," said Harry. "Well, I'm thirteen, now."

"—to help you locate a deadly creature that had already killed a student and one of your staff!"

A tense silence fell over the office. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat unmoving, and stared at various parts of the room to avoid looking at the adults with their grave faces. Fudge had not come up here to talk strategy or to ask for any assistance. He had come up here only to have his moment with Dumbledore, to talk down to him while he had the high ground, able to gloat at the headmaster's failures. Now, it remained to be seen if he and the Ministry could actually follow through on what he promised and destroy the new creature quickly.

Fudge turned and left, Kingsley following him wordlessly. Throughout the whole exchange the man had remained unreadable and it was impossible to tell if he agreed with the Minister or not. Once the sound of their footsteps had disappeared, the trio became very aware of their continued presence in Dumbledore's office, as though their welcome had suddenly worn out. Dumbledore sat back down slowly into his chair and rested his hands under his chin.

"Professor?" asked Harry. "What should we do?"

"Nothing," said Dumbledore, simply. "As Minister Fudge said, they have their best people working on it. All you three need to do for the time being, is to enjoy your Christmas holidays."

-x-H-x-

On Christmas morning, Harry and Ron awoke to piles of presents at the ends of their beds. "Happy Christmas, Ron," said Harry, hurriedly putting on his glasses to inspect his loot.

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

Among his usual wizarding gifts was an item that was so obviously of Muggle origin that it made them both pause and stare at it. It was a small toy car.

"Who's that from?" asked Ron, looking at it closely, gently bending the long, thin antenna that protruded up from it. The car resembled a dune buggy with knobbly tyres.

Harry looked at the card. "Sirius. Hang on…" He read through the letter carefully. "It's a remote-control car, usually runs on electricity, but he's put a charm on it so that it will run with magic. Probably had help from your dad, I bet."

Inside the packaging was a small controller. Harry switched on the car and placed it on the ground, then switched on the control. Ron stared at it nervously, as though expecting it to leap up at him. Harry pushed the controller buttons and the car lurched forwards quickly across the room. With a few moments of practice, Harry had it racing around the room under the beds and over piles of dirty clothes.

Ron was sitting up on his bed, feet high off the floor, watching it with a mix of awe and fear. Before long, however, he was up and running next to Harry, chasing the little car as it tumbled down the spiral staircase and thudded on the common room floor where Harry made it whiz around (and sometimes scuff) the other students' ankles. He misjudged and nearly crashed it into Crookshanks, who quickly jumped up onto Hermione's arms, nearly knocking her over.

"Be careful, Harry!" she scolded.

"Yeah," added Ron. "You almost hit Jonesy!"

Hermione frowned at Ron and called out something, but the boys had already continued on out through the portrait hole into the corridor outside. On they went, racing the little buggy round the corners and down the long passageways, taking turns as they did. The few students that had remained at Hogwarts for Christmas stopped to watch as they heard the approaching sound of the small electric motor and the laughing boys.

They launched it off the tops of steps and watched it tumble down to the landings below, often righting it again and giving it a quick once-over with a pointing of a wand and a muttering of Reparo before racing it along again. They only settled down when they reached the Great Hall, where they made their way down the long Gryffindor table and sat at their usual spots, placing the remote-controlled buggy in front of them on the table.

Being Christmas morning, the Great Hall was nearly empty. News of the teashop incident had spread through the school quickly, even if the story in the Daily Prophet had been brief and speculative. Despite the Ministry's presence in the village for the past week, many of the students felt quite uneasy about staying at Hogwarts, remembering all too well the tragedies that befell the school a year prior, and many plans were quickly changed leaving the four long tables quite empty on this cold, but cheery morning.

Hermione entered through the open doorway and walked quickly towards them, her footsteps echoing with every hurried slap on the stone floor, and sat down next to them for breakfast. The owl post came shortly after in a drizzle of letters, packages, feathers and droppings, and, most anticipated, the morning's copy of the Daily Prophet, which Harry snatched and quickly began scanning through.

"Nothing," said Hermione, holding up her own copy of the newspaper just as Harry was halfway through his. "No mention of Hogsmeade since the story about the teashop."

"Damn," said Ron. "They haven't found it then, have they? Fudge would love a chance to publicly gloat over Dumbledore."

"They're looking in the wrong place," said Harry, bluntly. "It's smart enough to know not to be around people, yet. The first one didn't really go after anyone for more than a week after we found the Basilisk… and it's already been a week since Hogsmeade. In another week it'll be laying eggs."

"If it did go into the forest," mused Hermione thoughtfully, "there's a good chance something else got it already. There's all sorts of dangerous magical creatures in there."

Ron gave a quick laugh, a thought suddenly popping into his head. "The Ministry's probably avoiding going into the forest on purpose! Scared of everything that's in there."

Heavy footsteps sounded in the Great Hall and they all looked up to see Hagrid walking towards them, powdery white snow falling off his broad shoulders and his shaggy head with every step.

"Mornin' you three," said Hagrid as he reached them, his black, beetlelike eyes crinkling cheerily above his bearded smile. "Merry Chris'mas!"

"Merry Christmas, Hagrid," they returned. "Heard anything?" asked Ron.

"Nothin' ter worry abou', don' you worry," he replied dismissively before continuing on to the staff table.

After leaving Dumbledore's office a week ago, the trio had gone straight to Hagrid at his hut to tell him about the new Xenomorph that had escaped, and to keep an eye out for any unusual activity in the forest. Hagrid was on good terms with many of the creatures that roamed there, and none of them had mentioned or warned him of anything strange, although he never ventured too far into the forest without good reason. Still, Harry couldn't help but wonder if there would be a time where he would have to vacate the hut.

After breakfast, the trio left the Great Hall, Harry with his remote-controlled car under his arm. Suddenly struck with an urge to use the toilet, Harry handed the car to Ron who continued on to the common room with Hermione. He entered the first bathroom he could find and headed for a cubicle, his footsteps echoing brightly against the silence as he entered, turned, and locked the door. He dropped his trousers and sat down. A moment later, as if waiting for their cue, Harry heard the bathroom door burst open followed by two sets of footsteps marching in, their owners wordlessly moving in sync to the cubicles on either side of him. The doors opened and closed simultaneously and then came the sounds of rustling robes. Harry sat feeling very vulnerable with his trousers down by his ankles as he listened to the movements on either side of him, and he was reminded forcefully of the time Dobby the house-elf apparated suddenly inside his cubicle a year prior. This time Harry felt as though he was about to be attacked.

Suddenly, two faces appeared simultaneously on either side of him above the walls, red hair blazing above pale, grinning faces.

"Oi, Potter, you dickhead!"

"What are you doing in there?"

"Looks like he's taking a shit, hey Fred?"

"Sure looks like it, George."

"GUYS!" said Harry, exasperated, trying to cover himself but without drawing attention to it. The twins both looked down at him.

"We're trying to have a conversation here, Harry," said Fred on Harry's left.

"Yes, you're being quite rude," added George on his right.

"I don't think we should give him his Christmas present anymore."

"No, not if he's going to be rude like that."

Harry looked at them. "What Christmas present? Why right now? How did you know I was in this exact cubicle?"

Fred grinned at him and answered, counting off with his fingers. "Your surprise present from us; because you're alone and this is a secret; we knew you were exactly here because of this…" He then held up a folded up piece of parchment.

"What is it?" asked Harry.

Fred looked up at George. "Thick, this one, isn't he?"

"It's your present, Harry!" said George.

"Yes," said Harry, "but what is it?"

"It's your present!" said Fred happily.

"Fucking—" said Harry, getting angry.

"Calm down, we'll give it to you."

As simultaneously as they had arrived, the twins' faces both vanished from sight behind the cubicle walls and Harry could hear them opening the doors on either side of him. For a second he thought they were going to barge into his own cubicle but soon heard them over at the sinks. When he met them there, George drew his wand and cast Muffliato, to hide their conversation from any passers-by.

"Here you go!" he said, beaming. "Happy Christmas!" He produced from his robes a tattered, folded up piece of parchment. Harry looked down at it.

"Thanks, but I already wiped."

The twins' faces grew serious, and Fred glared at him. "Harry," he said, speaking low and threateningly, "I should hit you for that, but that one was pretty good."

"It's a map!" said George, opening it. "Look…" He drew his wand and tapped the parchment. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." All at once, ink seemed to bleed from the wand's tip following invisible, angled lines outwards towards the edges, slowly revealing the entirety of Hogwarts Castle. Words formed at the top, reading: Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present the MARAUDER'S MAP. Every corridor and classroom, greenhouse, common room, and bathroom appeared on it. Harry, studying it, saw tiny moving dots clustered in certain parts of the castle, many in the Great Hall and others grouped in the common rooms. A closer look revealed names written just above each dot.

"Son of a bitch…" said Harry, quietly enough that he doubted that the Muffliato Charm was even necessary. "Is that us?" he asked, pointing at the first-floor bathroom where the three of them now stood. On the map were three small dots quite close to each other, the names overlapping slightly. Harry stared at it, amazed at the implications that dawned slowly over him.

"I think he likes it," said Fred, grinning.

"Oh, yeah," said Harry, not looking up. "This is brilliant!" He then frowned. Protruding away from the castle from various parts were seven thin pairs of lines, each making their way to the same location. "What are these?"

"Those," said George, "are the seven secret passages into Hogsmeade."

"And here," said Fred, pointing from point to point, "are all secret passages within the castle itself. This thing's helped us escape Filch so many times. It even shows that cat of his, Mrs. Norris!"

"It's also the reason that you now live with your godfather," said George. Harry looked up at him, confused. "The map showed us that Scabbers wasn't really a rat but a man named Peter. We'd never really noticed before because we had no reason to look closely at our own common room where he mostly was kept, and those spots are usually full of names overlapping each other. But last year there was hardly anyone here while everything was going on, that's when we spotted him, sitting right there with Ron. So we waited until McGonagall was nearby and we used a Revelio Charm on him once he was in a corner."

"We owe a lot to this map," said Fred.

"And now it's yours!" said George. "When you're done looking at it, you do this." He tapped the map with his wand again and said, "Mischief managed." As quickly as the ink filled in the invisible blanks, so did the ink retrieve back up into the wand tip, leaving the map as a blank scrap of parchment once more.

Harry grinned, as he took it carefully. "Wicked! Thanks, guys!" he said, looking back up at them. "Happy Christmas!"

The twins grinned and turned to leave. "You enjoy it, Potter. Do us proud!"