"Remember, Tom - no magic outside of Hogwarts," Harper repeats Dumbledore's words with a wink. "Did he believe you to let our luggage float to the train track without that order?"

"So it seems," I sigh, following her through the cramped train with one suitcase on each hand. "You're getting praised for your singing voice, though - it's only me he's accusing of bad intentions through the flowers."

"You sound slightly offended," she laughs. "So let me distract you with questions. Did you like the choir's choice of song as much as Dumbledore?"

"Carol of the Bells?" I shrug as I also take the train steps onto the platform after her, heaving our luggage along. "It's at least as much of a task to not find that poignant as carrying your suitcase feels right now."

"Are you implying I took too much with me?"

"Apparently I was too polite in my wording - I certainly didn't intend to only imply it."

She gives me a mischievously smile, not at all willing to respond, then she looks around the train station in excitement, rubbing her hands together.

"Welcome to Derby! Even if we're just passing through ..."

By day, our journey has taken us through the snow-covered highlands of Scotland to the East Midlands, which are no less white, though also considerably foggier.
By now, however, it's gloomy and dark, and the yellow lights of the nearly deserted central station don't illuminate its walls half as festively as one might think.

"I can see it in your face," Harper chuckles, "you think it's dreary. But at least someone took pains with the fir branches above the big clock up there ..."

"It still looks like a place where Dementors in particular would feel at home."

"You find it that bad?" She shakes her head, playfully concerned. "Well, could you at least defend us by now? Theoretically, I mean, if you were allowed to do magic?"

"I really hate to deprive you of the satisfaction of being ahead of me, but the answer is Yes. Last week I was able to conjure up a Patronus."

Her look is quite dumbfounded. "Oh, really?" Grinning, she follows up, "You've used a memory of us, didn't you?"

"Pure speculation," I retort, making no bones about it, even if she hit the mark.

"And what's your Patronus, Riddle?"

"You've already used up all your questions for the day," I tease her, yawning involuntarily. "Now it's my turn. How much longer will it take us to get to Brimington?"

"About an hour," Harper says. "Depending on how fast my dad will drive today."

"Your mother's driving - Merry Christmas, dear," we suddenly hear a voice with a distinctive American accent not far from us. We turn around, and Harper immediately drops everything to run and embrace her parents.

I smile wanly as I watch that scene unfold. Train stations are most peculiar. Farewells and Hellos, in exuberantly displayed feelings or coldness, in each and every person's glance a story of its own – unless you disappear undetected in the midst of the hustle and bustle. I have always chosen to do exactly that. Because there has never been anyone to greet. No one to say goodbye to ...

"And you must be our guest! Merry Christmas!"

Harper's father strides toward me, a tall, burly man - with an even burlier handshake.

"Thank you," I say, "for you too, sir."

"The infamous Tom Riddle, right?"

"I've already made a name for myself?"

He laughs, nodding. "In our family for sure! Nice to meet you, that's my wife –" In surprise, he realizes that she's not even standing next to him. "Polly? Polly! Let your daughter breathe, you're almost smothering her!"

"I've just missed her, that's all!" Her accent, too, is unmistakably overseas. With plenty of euphoria, she takes Harper's hand and then rushes toward me. "Excuse me, Tom, I'm Polly – and so happy you finally accompanied Harper to celebrate Christmas with us!"

I want to shake her hand, too, but she pulls me into her arms, squeezing me at once. So tightly, that I think I understand …

Harper is the way she is because she was made to be it.

But what does that mean for me in reverse?

"Are you tired from the train ride?" Polly asks as soon as she lets go of me again. Cheerfully, and before I can even answer, she adds with a wave, "Train rides always make me a little nervous, even if the view is nice."

"Nervous, ma'am?"

"Yes," she confirms, "I prefer to drive myself, you know." She winks and says to her husband, "William, come take your daughter's suitcase from the poor lad - knowing her, she's carrying all kinds of stuff along."

She grins at Harper and me. "Off to Brimington!"

"What are you up to?"

Caught off guard, William looks at his Polly. "I was going to get in here?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she says, shooing him away. "Get in the back, I want Tom next to me!"

I look up from the trunk in surprise.

"You've heard her," Harper says, nodding. "Go on, get in the front!"

Before I can even comply with this request, she climbs into the back seat herself – and sounds a little startled at once.

"Great-uncle Edwin?" she calls out. "Am I seeing ghosts, or did you really travel all the way from the States to England?"

"Hello, little witch," we hear his sonorous voice and a giggle. He's stowing his walking stick elsewhere as William also takes a seat next to him in the back. "Surprised?"

"Yes, certainly!" she says and quickly hugs him. "But why did you remain seated here all by yourself?"

"My apologies," he replies, once again leisurely pointing to the walking stick, "I got a little lazy. You kids don't understand that yet, fortunately."

Polly nods at me over the car's roof, so we both get in the front as well, then I extend my hand to Harper's great-uncle in the back seat.

"Tom, sir."

"Pleased to meet you, Tom, I'm Edwin," he says, returning my handshake as he leans forward.

When Polly starts the rattling engine and we're already leaving the station's parking lot behind, Edwin asks, "Do you also wear green ties at Hogwarts, young man?"

I see his wry smile in the rearview mirror, and William follows right up with interest, "Edwin, Tom, help me – green was the house color of ... Slytherin?"

"That's right," Edwin confirms. He proceeds to directly ask me, "Are you one?"

"I am, sir."

"Very interesting," he says. "And yet here you are with our little raven. An inter-house friendship, so to speak?"

"So to speak," Harper repeats mischievously.

"Well, Tom," Edwin begins no less blithely, "Harper's told you that Polly and Bill are No-Majs, hasn't she? Just to avoid that you can't show your face in your pureblood common room after the holidays ..."

"Oh, the blood-purity thing?" Polly asks, genuine concern lacing her words. "Is that why you didn't want to visit us until today?"

"Not at all, ma'am," I say, "I'd simply never believed Harper that you actually invited me. That shows great hospitality – so thank you."

"You're welcome! Are you sure it's not because we're … what do they say here in England? Muggles? That we're Muggles?"

"Not at all," I assure her, "Harper is the best example of how talent doesn't depend on blood."

"How beautifully put, thank you," Harper chuckles. "So, great-uncle Edwin, do you want to interrogate Tom any longer now, or may I inquire about dear Yorick?"

"You wish to talk about your good-for-nothing cousin?" Edwin laughs. "Tom, I warn you, unlike Harper's charming parents, he is an altogether narrow-minded fellow. A wizard, but quite a stupid one. You'll hardly get along."

Harper's jaw drops. "He's in England, too?"

"Yes, yes, like your great-grandmother Tilda," Polly replies, not particularly happy so. "They're both already waiting for us in Brimington, and Yorick – as soon as we left – announced that he wishes us to hurry up since he wants to eat soon." Polly laughs in resignation. "His presence is not that pleasant, but Edwin brought him along anyway."

"That almost sounds like it's my fault," he whines. "Polly, rest assured that the family practically forced me to bring him along. After all, he takes care of Tilda ... Harper, how good are you at memory charms?"

"Mine's are not particularly good, but you can count on Tom," Harper says. "Yet Tilda won't need a memory charm, will she?"

"I don't know," Edwin sighs, "she has good and bad moments, but now and then she'd certainly slip up."

"No wonder she's so confused," Polly groans. "If you keep taking the poor thing's memory away ..."

Edwin snorts, then laughs. "You know - trust is good, control is better. Tom, will you do me the favor after the holidays?"

"Sir, the Lady of the house doesn't seem to think much of it …"

Polly laughs and shakes her head. "Do what you have to do, Tom. It's all on Edwin's account."

"But have you forgotten Dumbledore's words again?" Harper asks with a grin.

"Albus Dumbledore," Edwin says, "well, a great asset to Hogwarts indeed …"

"Yes, and he strictly forbade us to do any magic outside the school right before we arrived here," Harper explains.

"He did," I confirm, "but as long as your great-uncle is present, the Ministry can't prove to whom practiced magic is attributable."

"All respect, Harper," Edwin cackles, "I like your Slytherin! Cunning and attentive with every beat of his wings - he would certainly also make an excellent Thunderbird."

"One of the four houses of Ilvermorny?" Harper asks.

"Yes," Edwin confirms.

"That's my Patronus, by the way." I turn to Harper. "A thunderbird …"

She beams. "I'd love to see it some day."

Edwin, for his part, begins to reminisce. "I really enjoyed my youth there. What's Hogwarts like these days?"

"Strict," she replies. "I'm still not allowed to wear pants, can you imagine, great-uncle?"

"Sure," he hastily says, "women in pants are very scary! No telling what they might do with a wand and pants!"

I hear Harper chuckle and Edwin cannot help but laugh either.

The roads - we follow them at a considerable pace due to Polly's driving style - are only sparsely lit, but this part of England impresses effortlessly even with little light. Now and then, however, our path takes us past burned-out ruins, orphaned piles of stone, and other silent witnesses to time.

"The Blitz?" I ask Polly.

She gulps and nods. "Barely two years ago, yes. It was terrible. That December is still felt in people's bones, and right now, around Christmas, the memories are especially vivid."

"Some families we know lost everything," William also says, sighing. "Mankind is man's greatest curse, I've never understood wars."

"You can't comprehend them, Bill," Edwin says. "Only lament them. We are capable of corrupting everything. Einstein wanted to explore infinite energy for the positive, but he never intended that the result might be infinite destruction."

"What are you talking about?" Harper asks.

"Nothing at all, dear, I've said too much already," he replies. "All we can do is hope things work out for the best."

"Why don't we just make them good with magic?" she asks, even when her tone already suggests she is aware of the hopeless idealism of those words.

"Magic requires a sense of responsibility," Edwin says, "I've regrettably never had enough of it."

"Knowing that seems to point to the opposite," she retorts.

I cannot help but watch her warm smile in the rearview mirror. At least until the Christmas lights of Chesterfield, just before our actual destination, Brimington, nearly blind us.

"We'll be home in a minute," Polly triumphs. "Are you as hungry as cousin Yorick?"

"I think so," Edwin confirms, Harper and I also nod.

"We still have plenty of venison – William's a hunter. Otherwise, my dears, grab your wands. With two special kids in the house, I'm sure even peeling potatoes will be fun."

"I don't know a spell for that, though," Harper confesses. "Do you, Tom?"

"I'll have to pass, too."

"So much for Hogwarts," Edwin laughs. "Don't worry, I'll teach you some life lessons, young folks."