Dear Head Auror,

You can't keep ignoring me, Mister Potter. I simply insist that you join us for dinner tonight. I don't care if you "aren't looking for a change of career at this point" or not, you simply must come to Hogwarts. I promise to not demand you join the staff too harshly. Also, this is James' last Christmas at school and our Head Boy would love to spend time with his father.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

The headmistress' office was briefly illuminated with a flash of green light and Harry stumbled out of the fireplace.

"Good evening, Harry."

"Good evening, Professor McGonagall," Harry said, brushing down his robes. "Sorry I'm late. There was a last minute call at the Auror Office and I had to go to a scene urgently."

"You couldn't have foisted it off on one of your underlings?" McGongall asked.

"Well, normally I could have, but it was a report of an illegal acromantula breeding ring and I couldn't ask Ron to deal with that."

"Ah, quite," McGonagall agreed. She stood up. The years since the war had been peaceful, but Hogwarts was never calm and by this point there wasn't a hair on her head that wasn't grey. "In any case, let us head down to dinner. I made sure to ask the House Elves to prepare treacle tart for dessert."

They descended the spiral staircase, but Harry paused as they went down the corridor.

"Actually, do you mind going on ahead while I wash up first? I think I still have some spider ichor under my fingernails."

Harry walked slowly on his solitary descent through the castle towards the Great Hall. He had visited many times in the years since, but memories of his time at school still lingered.

As he was about to reach the Entrance Hall, he heard the main doors open and some intuition, a well-honed survival instinct, made him stop and listen.

A dozen pairs of footsteps hurried across the Entrance Hall and towards the Great Hall and then there was a deafening explosion.

Harry had his wand out and was rushing forward even as the ringing in his ears was replaced by screams of terror. Peeking through the doors, his heart fell as he saw McGonagall slumped over the staff table and the rest of the students and staff who had remained over Christmas pressed up against the wall at wandpoint.

A quick headcount showed that there were fifteen attackers. Too many for Harry to take by himself. He fumbled in his pocket for his communication mirror.

"Close the main door," one of the attackers ordered. "And get the castle defences activated."

Abandoning his search in his pockets, Harry rushed away and dashed towards the main staircase.

McGonagall stared down the wizards pointing wands at her without a hint of fear.

"The Ministry will never give in to your demands."

"Even if I have Harry Potter's son hostage?" the leader of the gang asked rhetorically. "Anyway, I'm not interested in politics. No, what I'm interested in is the Hogwarts Vault. Priceless artefacts, legendary compendiums of knowledge, enough gold to rival Gringotts."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "You mean, after all that posturing, you're just a common thief?"

"I am an exceptional thief," the man snarled. "Now, you are going to open the vault—"

"But as you well know, with the deputy headmaster on holiday in Australia, I can't open it by myself. Even if I could, I wouldn't."

"I will give you to the count of three."

"I do not require one. I'm afraid you'll just have to kill me."

"Reducto."

"We'll have to do it the hard way."

"You are most troublesome… for a school teacher."

"Eeeh!" Harry said into the stolen communication mirror. "Wrong answer. Would you like to phone a friend or ask the audience."

"Now I have a Hand of Glory. Ho ho ho."