Chapter 38: A Hogwarts Christmas

The double attack on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick had left the entire school in a state of panic. What haunted me most was Nearly Headless Nick—what could possibly harm a ghost? The very idea was terrifying. If something could petrify the already dead, what hope was there for the rest of us? I noticed how students were increasingly anxious. By the end of the week, the halls buzzed with news of more people trying to go home for the holidays. I couldn't blame them. The thought of staying at a school where this kind of dark magic was at play made my stomach churn.

"At this rate, we'll be the only ones left," Ron grumbled as we passed the Gryffindor sign-up sheet, filled to the brim with names of those leaving for the break. "Us, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. What a jolly holiday it's going to be."

I nodded absentmindedly, trying not to let my anxiety show. Everywhere we went, Harry's name seemed to come up in whispers. News had spread that he was the one who had found Justin and Nick, and it only made the ridiculous rumors about him being the Heir of Slytherin worse. The pointing, the whispers, the suspicious looks—it was all so unfair. My heart ached for Harry.

Fred and George, however, didn't seem to take it seriously at all. They seemed to find the whole situation hilarious and often went out of their way to tease Harry about it. I watched them march ahead of us in the corridor one day, loudly shouting, "Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through!"

I glanced at Harry, worried the teasing might bother him, but he only gave a small smile. If anything, it seemed to make him feel better.

Percy, of course, didn't find it funny in the slightest. "It is not a laughing matter," he said, cold and stiff as usual.

"Oh, get out of the way, Percy," Fred shot back. "Harry's in a hurry."

"Yeah," George chimed in. "He's off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with his fanged servant."

I couldn't help but smile despite myself. At least Fred and George's antics made Harry feel like someone in the school wasn't judging him. I noticed, however, that Malfoy didn't share the same humor. Every time Fred and George put on their little show, Malfoy's scowl deepened, his pale face flushed with irritation.

"It's because he's bursting to say it's really him," Ron muttered as Malfoy passed us, his sharp features set in a sour expression. "You know how he hates anyone beating him at anything, and you're getting all the credit for his dirty work."

"Not for long," I said, my tone firmer than I felt inside. "The Polyjuice Potion's nearly ready. We'll be getting the truth out of him any day now." Saying it out loud gave me a sense of control, a feeling that maybe, just maybe, we could solve this.

At last, the term ended. Gryffindor Tower felt oddly quiet with so many people gone. Only the Weasleys had stayed, along with Harry, of course. Fred, George, and Ginny had opted to remain at Hogwarts rather than visit Bill in Egypt with their parents. Percy claimed he stayed behind because it was his "duty as a prefect to support the teachers during this troubled time," though I suspected he just wanted an excuse to act superior. None of the other prefects stayed, which made his reasoning seem even more ridiculous.

I sighed as I glanced around the common room, the silence broken only by the crackle of the fireplace. For the first time, the tower felt emptier than I ever thought it could.

I woke up to the soft glow of the enchanted snowflakes drifting lazily across the dormitory ceiling, casting a silvery light over the empty room. For a moment, I lay still, blinking away the remnants of sleep. The castle was utterly silent, save for the faint whistle of the wind outside. It was Christmas morning, and for the first time, I was spending it here, alone in the Gryffindor dormitory.

I sat up slowly, pulling the covers tightly around me. The other girls had gone home for the holidays, leaving the room eerily quiet. Their beds were neatly made, trunks closed, and the absence of their chatter was strangely unsettling. I glanced at the small stack of gifts at the foot of my bed and felt a flicker of excitement, though it was tinged with an ache in my chest. Back home, Mum and Dad would be waking up too, probably exchanging small presents over tea. I wondered if they missed me as much as I missed them.

But I had made my choice. This mission, this potion, it was too important. Still, the loneliness crept in, and I couldn't shake it completely.

Swinging my legs out of bed, I slipped on my slippers and wrapped my dressing gown tightly around me. The chill in the air nipped at my skin as I made my way down the spiral staircase to the common room. The fire had burned low, casting long shadows over the walls, but the decorations were breathtaking. Garlands of holly and ivy hung along the banisters, enchanted baubles sparkled on the tree, and stockings swayed gently by the hearth. For a moment, the beauty of it all lifted my spirits. Hogwarts truly was magical during Christmas.

But there was no time to linger. The Polyjuice Potion still needed tending, and with the castle so empty, it was the perfect opportunity to work uninterrupted. I slipped quietly out of the common room, the Fat Lady murmuring a sleepy "Merry Christmas" as I passed.

The corridors were quiet, save for the occasional crackle of enchanted candles or the distant hum of Peeves singing a very off-key carol. I hugged my dressing gown closer as I made my way toward Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. The weight of our mission pressed heavily on me. The thought of drinking the potion and impersonating a Slytherin still sent a nervous flutter through my stomach. What if something went wrong? What if we didn't find the answers we were looking for?

I shook the thoughts from my head as I pushed open the bathroom door. The cold air hit me instantly, the damp chill settling into my bones. Myrtle was thankfully absent, probably off sulking somewhere else, which I was immensely grateful for. I made my way to the cauldron in the corner, its soft bubbling the only sound in the room.

Kneeling beside it, I carefully added another handful of lacewings, stirring slowly as the potion hissed and swirled. It was thick and murky, but it was coming along perfectly. I couldn't help but feel a small swell of pride. This potion was complicated, but we were making it work. Every step brought us closer to answers, closer to the truth.

As I watched the potion simmer, the quiet of the moment settled over me. It was Christmas, and though I missed my parents terribly, I reminded myself of why I was here. Harry and Ron were counting on me, and so were all the Muggle-borns who were too afraid to walk the halls alone. This was bigger than me, bigger than my homesickness. I just hoped it would be worth it in the end.

With one last stir, I sat back and let out a deep breath. "Merry Christmas, Hermione," I whispered to myself, forcing a small smile. I didn't feel entirely cheerful, but for now, it would have to be enough.

As I made my way back to Gryffindor Tower, the quiet of the castle felt even more pronounced. The common room was still completely empty, save for the faint crackle of the fire and the soft twinkle of the Christmas tree ornaments. The boys weren't there, which meant they were still sound asleep upstairs. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Of course, they were still in bed—it was Christmas morning, after all. But we had things to do, and I wasn't about to let them waste the entire morning.

Climbing the spiral staircase to their dormitory, I prepared myself for whatever state their room might be in. Boys weren't exactly known for their tidiness. Sure enough, when I pushed open the door, the smell of socks and leftover food scraps hit me instantly. I wrinkled my nose but stepped inside, my eyes adjusting to the dim light.

The sight before me was so ridiculous I had to stifle a laugh.

Harry was sprawled out on his back, one arm flung over his face as if blocking out some imaginary light. His glasses were perched precariously on the nightstand, and his hair looked even messier than usual—if that were even possible. Ron, on the other hand, was curled up on his side, snoring lightly with his mouth wide open. His red hair stuck out in all directions, and one of his long legs was dangling off the side of the bed, as if he'd been too tall for it in his sleep.

I put a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. They looked utterly ridiculous, but in an endearing sort of way.

I walked over to the window, pulling back the heavy curtains to let in the morning light. The sun streamed in, illuminating the messy dormitory. "Wake up!" I practically shouted, turning to face them.

"Hermione! You're not supposed to be in here!" he hissed, looking both alarmed and groggy as he tried to shield his eyes.

"Merry Christmas to you, too," I replied with a roll of my eyes. I picked up one of his wrapped presents and tossed it at him playfully. "I've been up for nearly an hour, adding more lacewings to the potion. It's ready."

That woke Harry up. He sat bolt upright, his hair sticking out in every direction. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice tinged with nervous anticipation.

"Positive," I said firmly, brushing a stray hair out of my face as I moved Scabbers out of the way and perched on the edge of Ron's bed. "If we're going to do it, I say it should be tonight."

At that moment, Hedwig swooped gracefully into the room, a small package clutched in her beak. Harry's face lit up.

"Hello," he said, his tone soft and warm. "Are you speaking to me again?"

Hedwig nibbled his ear affectionately, a small truce after their recent spat. Harry gently took the package from her beak and opened it. His smile quickly disappeared.

"The Dursleys," he groaned, holding up a toothpick and a note. The note simply asked whether he could stay at Hogwarts for the summer.

"Charming," I muttered, disgusted. A toothpick? Honestly.

"Aren't my relatives simply peachy?" Harry said sarcastically, tossing the toothpick into the bin.

Thankfully, his other presents more than made up for the Dursleys' pathetic excuse for a gift. Hagrid had sent a large tin of treacle fudge, and Ron had given him Flying with the Cannons, a book that had clearly taken thought. I watched as Harry flipped through it with genuine interest. It was sweet of Ron to pick something Harry would love.

I handed over my own gift, an elaborate eagle-feather quill. "Merry Christmas, Harry," I said with a small smile.

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said, looking delighted as he turned the quill over in his hands. "This is brilliant."

Mrs. Weasley's gifts, as always, brought warmth to the room. Harry got a hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large plum cake. Ron unwrapped his usual maroon sweater, which he grimaced at despite the fondness I could see in his eyes. Along with the sweater, Mrs. Weasley had sent him a box of mini cherry pies.

"Ugh, maroon again," Ron groaned, holding up the sweater. "What does she have against sending me blue or green?"

"I think it suits you," I teased.

Ron snorted playfully, unwrapping the rest of his gifts. Harry had given him a book on Muggle sports, which earned an intrigued eyebrow raise. Bill had sent him a miniature pyramid, and Charlie had sent an interesting book about dragons, which I knew Ron would be completely absorbed in by the end of the day.

I handed Ron my own gift—a huge box of chocolate frogs. "Merry Christmas," I said softly, feeling a bit nervous.

Ron blinked in surprise as he took the box. "For me?"

"Of course," I said, trying to sound nonchalant but feeling a bit shy. "You've always liked them, so I thought…"

Ron's ears turned pink as he gave me a lopsided smile. "Thanks, Hermione. This is..well..really nice of you."

"You're welcome," I said, grinning despite myself.

As Harry disappeared to get dressed, I turned my attention the sparkling Christmas wrapping paper on the floor. Ron got up, got something out of his trunk, and stood in front of me, shifting awkwardly on his feet. He was holding something wrapped in plain paper, his ears already starting to turn red.

"Er—here," he said, thrusting the package toward me with a sort of determined nervousness, like he was afraid I might refuse it. "Got you something."

I blinked, completely taken aback. Ron had gotten me something? I wasn't sure what surprised me more—the fact that he'd gone to the trouble or the fact that he looked so genuinely shy about it.

"For me?" I said, my voice soft with disbelief. I took the package gingerly, glancing up at him. He was avoiding my eyes, scratching the back of his neck like he wasn't quite sure why he'd done it.

"Yeah, well... don't make a big deal about it," he muttered, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. "Just thought you'd like it. No need to get all, you know... mushy."

I laughed lightly, the sound breaking through my initial shock. "Mushy? Ron, I'm not about to burst into tears," I teased, carefully unwrapping the paper. My heart gave a little flutter when I saw what was inside. It was a beautiful pink journal, the cover smooth and soft to the touch.

"It's enchanted," Ron said quickly, still not meeting my eyes. "Never-ending paper, or something like that. So, you know, you can write as much as you want."

I traced my fingers over the cover, a warm feeling blooming in my chest. "Ron, this is... this is wonderful," I said honestly, looking up at him. "I love it."

His ears went even redder. "Yeah, well. Figured you could use it. You're always scribbling something down, aren't you?"

I grinned. "That's true. And I'll probably fill this up by the end of the year."

"Not possible," Ron said, smirking a little now. "It's never-ending paper, remember? You'd have to live a hundred lifetimes to fill it."

"Challenge accepted," I said, laughing. I clutched the journal to my chest, unable to keep the grin off my face. "Thank you, Ron. Really."

He shrugged, but I could tell he was pleased. "Yeah, well. Merry Christmas, Hermione."

"Merry Christmas," I said softly, feeling a little lighter, a little warmer than I had before.