Three Animagi and a Werewolf

Chapter 15: The Christmas Spirit

Old Ties

Albus Dumbledore stepped into the magnificent library of Gryffindor Hall. It was a large and gloomy room lit by the flickering yellow light of the candles that floated under the ceiling. Tall shelves filled to the brim with many faded and dusty books lined the walls, and a bright fire crackled in the huge fireplace at one end. In one of the two chairs on the bearskin rug in front of the fire sat a wizard.

He was tall, and his wavy grey hair fell down to his broad shoulders. The smoke from a long pipe encircled his head. His eyes were iron-grey and his face, though now old and wrinkled, had clearly once been very handsome. He looked up when the headmaster of Hogwarts entered.

"Albus," he said in a slow, slightly rasping voice. "Sit down, my old friend."

Dumbledore sat in the chair opposite.

"How is dear Arabella?"

"She's looking well," Dumbledore replied.

"Good. And old Nicolas?"

"He couldn't come, I'm afraid. But in his letter he assured me that he is one hundred percent behind us."

"Good."

For a while silence fell between them. At last, Gordon Gryffindor's pipe went out and he took it from his mouth.

"So - did your council go well?"

"It went as I had expected."

Gryffindor cocked his head to one side.

"Someone did not share your opinions?"

"Bartemius Crouch seemed to think that we ought to authorise the use of the Unforgivable Curses against Voldemort's supporters. So far all the others seem to agree that such means are not justifiable, but I worry what will happen once there are more victims."

"You think there will be?"

"Oh, definitely. Voldemort is not some harmless upstart, Gordon. He is seriously dangerous. Already he has claimed more victims than most people outside the Ministry guess. Several ministers who opposed his views have simply - vanished. I fear that Damocles Dorset's death was not the first. Just because no body has been found before, it doesn't mean to say there has been no murder."

Gordon Gryffindor nodded thoughtfully.

"I agree. So - what do you want me to do?"

"Take a stand. Come out into the open and support us."

"I have gone to great lengths, Albus, to hide myself away from the world. This mansion is better protected than even you can imagine. No one can enter it unless I choose to let them, or unless they know the password to the hidden gate. And now you want me to reveal myself again? Why?"

"I told you about Professor Trelawney's prediction ..."

"And you think she was referring to me? No, Albus. I am an old man. Though I feel I can safely say that my powers are greater than those of Lord Voldemort, what you have told me of him leads me to suspect it will not be long until he becomes stronger than I am. I cannot stop him."

"Perhaps you are right. But you are not the only living heir of Gryffindor."

The old wizard's expression closed. His eyes turned cold.

"I am the only one who still bears that name," he said guardedly.

"But not the only one of that bloodline. There is your child."

Gryffindor rose abruptly and turned his back to the fire.

"I have no child!"

"Yes you do, Gordon. And I think it is time you two were reconciled, before it's too late. As yet we do not know in what way Gryffindor's heir - whichever one of you that may refer to - can defeat the Dark Lord, and until we do, anyone of that heritage is in great danger. Voldemort will be looking for you, and your daughter does not have the benefit of the protection you have placed on this house. If Voldemort discovers where she is ..."

"How would he even find out she exists?"

"He already knows."

"What?"

"Voldemort was at her wedding, Gordon. But of course you wouldn't know that. You weren't there."

Gordon Gryffindor, his face pale, looked back at Dumbledore.

"I know you have disagreed violently with your daughter in the past," the professor continued gently, "but she is still your child, and I believe you still care about her."

"Have you found her?"

Dumbledore smiled.

"Don't you already know where she is?"

"You think I do?"

"Oh yes. As I said, I don't believe for a moment that you have stopped caring about your daughter. You may not have spoken to her for years, but you would have no peace if you didn't know where she was. I have my own suspicions regarding her whereabouts. A visit to a certain address in London could confirm them."

"If you're so sure of where she is, why don't you go and see her yourself, get her to join this Order of yours and take her somewhere safe?"

"I don't think it would be wise. It would not be safe for her. I am, after all, a prominent person. If Voldemort's spies saw me going there ... "

"Then what can you do?"

"I have a plan. I dare say you are aware that your daughter has a son?"

"Yes," Gryffindor admitted.

"He is a student at Hogwarts now. He is fifteen, and a fine lad. And I happen to know the parents of one of his best friends very well. I am sure I could arrange for them to have both the boy and his mother to stay with them next summer. Would you be willing to visit them there one day? Since Voldemort's spies don't know where you are, they won't be waiting to follow your every move, so you would all be quite safe."

Gordon Gryffindor stood in silence for a long moment.

"In fact, you want me to swallow my pride and beg my daughter to come back to me? Why should I? Our division was not my fault. By rights, she should come to me and ask my forgiveness."

"We don't have time for a struggle between her pride and yours, Gordon. All that matters now is that you put aside your differences for the greater good - the destruction of Lord Voldemort."

Gordon Gryffindor hesitated, but at last he sighed.

"Very well, Albus. She may have made a foolish mistake and gone against my express disapproval, but that was a long time ago. As you say, it is for the destruction of evil. I will do as you suggest."

Christmas Eve

James rubbed his hands together and blew on them. He shook the snow off his cloak and shivered. Even in the entrance hall of Hogwarts, it was still bitter cold. Outside a snowstorm was brewing and thick flakes were fluttering in all directions, now this way, now that way, as thought he wind itself could not decide in which direction to blow them.

A group of chattering girls passed him as he climbed the great staircase, and James was struck again by the sheer amount of people at Hogwarts this Christmas. Usually, as far as he could tell, the school was empty at this time of year. He himself had so far always spent Christmas at home. But the events of the past months had made many parents feel insecure in the outside world, and many of them seemed to feel that their offspring were safer at Hogwarts this winter.

As he made his way back towards Gryffindor Tower, James thought back over what he had experienced this year. Ever since the death of that minister in Diagon Alley, things had taken a definite turn for the worse in the wizarding world. The Daily Prophet had mentioned several mysterious disappearances of high-ranking officials both before and after that event, reports of Muggle torturing had increased and at Hogwarts, Professor Darkhardt had been working overtime.

Not only had he founded what the relatively small group of students involved jocularly called 'Darkhardt's Defenders' and begun secretly teaching them more about the Dark Arts and how to fight them every Saturday night, but he had started an official duelling club on Sunday mornings, hoping to prepare those who had not already joined the Defenders for any dangers they might have to face. Consequently, the Defence Against the Dark Arts master was very busy and often looked rather tired these days, but James had rarely seen anyone show so much enthusiasm or put so much effort into helping the students.

Another person who looked more tired than usual nowadays was Remus Lupin. Spurred on, no doubt, by the involvement of both his father and his uncle in Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix - already a legend among members of the Defenders - as well as by the fact that Professor Darkhardt had done his utmost to improve the young lad's self-confidence, Remus was now putting every ounce of his energy into everything to do with Defence Against the Dark Arts. He still gave Heather Woodcock lessons every Saturday morning, he was enthusiastically involved in their Dark Arts course on Saturday nights, and he was always first up on Sunday mornings for duelling classes.

But James himself had not been idle. He, too, was determined to do his bit. Together with Sirius and Frank, he had made it his job to discover potential new members for their defence group and find out whether they were really suitable candidates. He and Sirius were always the first to volunteer when it came to learning knew spells and duelling techniques, and they had persuaded some of the other Gryffindors, a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, to join.

Lost in thought, James reached the portrait of the Fat Lady before he knew it, and actually stood there for quite a long time before she somewhat impatiently asked him for the password. James looked up, torn out of his reverie, and barely noticed that the Fat Lady had put on her best paper hat and had tinsel draped about her neck.

"Eggnog," he mumbled, and the portrait swung back on its hinges.

He climbed through the hole and began pulling off his snow-dampened cloak. The common room, like the rest of the school, was uncommonly busy. James absent-mindedly strolled across to the table in the corner and sat down. Remus looked up from yet another book he'd been reading and Sirius and Peter came over from where they had been playing exploding snap on the rug in front of the common room fire.

"What's the matter with you?" Remus asked.

"He's been thinking again," Sirius guessed. "James, Dumbledore and the greatest witches and wizards of the century are already putting their grey heads together to think of some way to stop the Dark Lord. I somehow don't think you're going to make any difference by brooding and spoiling your holidays and ours."

"Exactly," Remus agreed. "You shouldn't worry so much, or you'll start going grey."

"Look who's talking," Sirius laughed.

James smiled. "You may be right, but I don't see that not brooding will help either."

"Yes it will," Sirius disagreed. "We can't figure out a way to defeat Voldemort right now, so I suggest we do what we're best at. It's Christmas Eve, but there's a pretty gloomy mood at Hogwarts this Xmas, and I think we can do something to improve that. It's our duty."

James looked doubtful, but Remus nodded.

"You know, Sirius has a point there. People need a bit of Christmas cheer to get back on their feet. So let's give it to them. I'm sure Sirius already has an ingenious plan, and I wouldn't mind betting it involves our old friend Severus - am I right?"

"Your deductions are getting more and more perfect, Mr. Moony," Sirius replied. "You've been spending too much time around the Ravenclaws again."

Remus irritably cleared his throat.

"Well, what did you have in mind?" Peter asked impatiently.

Sirius took a small phial out of his pocket and held it up. It contained a very dark blue liquid.

"What's that?"

"A tickling potion," Sirius explained. "You sprinkle it on the biscuits, and anyone who eats them will feel like they're being tickled all over and start laughing."

"Hm - but how do we make sure Snape eats the biscuits before anyone else does?" James asked. "If he sees someone eat one and start laughing, he won't take one, will he?"

Sirius looked crestfallen.

"You are in a lousy mood today," he moaned.

"Never mind, it's still a good idea," said Peter. "We could warn all the other Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, anyway. Then we'd still get a good laugh when the Slytherins start tucking in, even if it's not Snape who takes the first one."

"Ye-es," James agreed, warming up a little. "We could think of something else for Severus. I know - how about a Christmas hat that spurts out fireworks?"

"You really think Severus Snape would even wear a Christmas hat?" Remus said doubtfully. "Still, maybe one of the teachers will. That would be funny too."

Sirius chuckled. "Yes, and I've just thought of something else for Snape."

"What?"

"Wait and see," he said mysteriously. "It'll be fun, I promise you."

James slept badly again that night, as he always did when he had something on his mind. Maybe the others were right. Perhaps he did worry too much. But the fact was he couldn't help it. He tossed and turned for over two hours before falling asleep.

James looked around him. He was outdoors in the middle of the night, and he vaguely thought that he would be in a lot of trouble if one of the teachers found him here. But where was here? He started walking, and realised that the ground beneath him was crunchy, a long drive covered with gravel. He looked down, but found that he must have been mistaken after all. There was no gravel here. He was standing on a bearskin rug in a warm room full of dusty books. A fire was crackling behind him and James turned to look at it.

The flames were bright orange and looked very merry, as though they were dancing happily. He heard a high clear sound like the song of a bird and gazed deeper into the fire, for some reason expecting to see the creature in there.

Deeper and deeper he looked, and he almost thought that he could make out a shape, something large and winged, red as the flames around it. There was a sudden gust of wind and the creature vanished, the flames flowed softly from side to side, glowing red and bronze and thinning out, fluttering now like long red hair caught in a stiff breeze.

But in the middle of this red veil, James caught a glimpse of something else. Something had moved in there and he lifted his hand to brush the red curtain aside so he could see what it was.

Eyes. A pair of bright green eyes were drawing him in, pulling him closer, closer ... He heard a light, cheerful laugh and turned to see where it had come from, but suddenly everything went black and he was groping in the dark. He heard a crash and saw a window fly open, the curtains ruffled wildly by a strong cold wind. An inexplicable fear seized him and he wanted to run, but found that he couldn't. He stood as though transfixed.

And then he saw it. It began as a small speck at first, but it quickly started glowing: a light, a green light so bright it hurt to look at it, and yet he couldn't turn away. It was blotting out everything else, filling the room, creeping towards him ... He heard a woman's voice scream his name, and then the light reached him and there was nothing. James felt like he was tumbling forward, and he put out a hand to stop himself.

He opened his eyes and saw the blurry shape of his bedside cabinet in front of him. His hand was clutching the corner of it and his body was soaked in sweat. James rolled onto his back, gasping.

"It was a dream," he muttered to himself. "Just a dream, that's all."

He closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep, but no sleep came.

A Secret Gift

Remus turned over in his bed and blinked. A ray of bright winter sunlight had found the gap in the hangings around his bed and shone on his face. A moment later, there was a loud creaking noise across the room, followed by quick and heavy footsteps and a loud joyful call of

"Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas to you too, Sirius," Remus answered, laughing as he pushed back the curtains.

James, Frank and Peter were also blinking out from behind the hangings of their beds, all smiling and wishing each other "A merry Christmas to you" and "An even merrier Christmas to you" and "Oh no, a much merrier Christmas to you".

"Presents!" Sirius exclaimed, picking up the stocking at the foot of his bed and pulling it open eagerly.

"Look at this!" he shouted excitedly a moment later, holding up a shining hardback.

"What is it?" Peter asked, emerging from the foot of his own bed with the brown chocolate of this Christmas's first chocolate frog smeared around his mouth.

"It's a book about motorbikes, of course," Sirius answered impatiently. "From your mother, James!"

"What's a motorbike?" asked Frank, who didn't know much about Muggle vehicles.

"It's a Muggle form of transport. A bit like a broom, but much bigger, much shinier and much more exciting," Sirius explained.

"And they don't fly, but roll noisily along the road on whacking great big rubber tires that smell terribly if you brake to hard," James added.

"Yes - fantastic," Sirius breathed. "Woah - look at this one here!"

He sat gaping open-mouthed at the picture of a particularly huge and shiny vehicle.

"I'll never be able to afford a thing like that," he sighed longingly.

James laughed.

"Don't worry, Sirius. One day, I'll rob Gringotts and buy you one."

Remus, laughing with the others, pulled the stocking at the foot of his own bed up onto his lap and began opening it. There was a wonderful new black winter cloak with a soft fur collar and bronze fastenings, immaculately hand-sewn by his mother; a new book on magical tricks and pranks from his friends; at least a year's supply of Pepper Imps and Every Flavour Beans from his Uncle Malcolm; and an old, thick, leather-bound book with gold lettering on the front, entitled 'The Expert's Guide to the Dark Arts'.

"What's that?" Peter asked, coming over for a closer look.

Remus opened the book cautiously and began flicking through the pages.

"Look at those illustrations," Frank whispered in awe, looking over Remus's shoulder.

"Fantastic!" James exclaimed. "This book looks ancient, but it's in really good condition. It must contain practically every curse and counter-curse in the world, things from the times of Salazar Slytherin, maybe. Wait ..."

He put out a hand and Remus stopped turning the pages.

"The Cruciatus curse," he read.

"Isn't that what Lothian - I mean, what your father was arrested for?" Sirius asked.

"Yes," James answered coldly.

"The Cruciatus curse was outlawed over a century ago, but many wizards and witches who practise the Dark Arts today still know how to use it," Frank read out.

"To perform it, the caster points his or her wand at the receiver and casts the 'Crucio' spell, which immediately causes the victim to feel unbearable pain. If contact is maintained for too long, the victim can become unconscious. It has been known for victims repeatedly subjected to the Cruciatus curse to suffer permanent numbing of the nerves in their bodies, thus rendering them immune to its effects, but also leaving them incapable of ever physically feeling anything again. Some victims subjected to this curse for a longer space of time without interruption, or repeatedly within a relatively short space of time, have been known to become insane for the rest of their lives."

Frank broke off and shuddered.

"That's horrible," he said.

"Merry Christmas," Sirius muttered gloomily. "Who sent you that cheerful book, Moony?"

Frank helped Remus hunt for the gift tag and came up, holding it.

"Just thought this might come in useful. Hope you like it," he read. "It's not signed."

"I wonder who can have sent it?" Peter said. "Do you have any ideas, Moony?"

"Maybe," Remus murmured, continuing to flick through the pages. "It is a marvellous book."

"If you like that sort of thing." Sirius shrugged. "So, let's get dressed, shall we, and get Project Xmas ready."

That evening, the suits of armour, thanks to Professor Flitwick's instruction, had taken to singing 'The Twelve Days of Christmas' in loud, rusty voices. Countless fireflies zoomed around the Great Hall and real fairies twirled and danced on the tops of the twelve Christmas trees, waving little silver wands and rustling their frilly little dresses.

The five boys walked to the middle of the Great Hall, where the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables had been pushed together to form one big table, and were immediately greeted noisily by Damian Diggle, who had saved them seats. They sat down and James looked around at all the familiar faces. At the head of the table sat Professor Dumbledore, flanked by Professor McGonagall and Hagrid, who smiled at them. Professor Darkhardt sat on McGonagall's other side, while tiny Professor Flitwick was perched on a pile of cushions next to Hagrid. The other teachers had apparently gone home for the holidays.

Then came a mixed group of students: seventh-year Gryffindor Oliver McKinnon, Florence Fortescue and Bertha Jorkins from Hufflepuff, Daniel Moore and Mary Crimple from Ravenclaw, Gemma, Crystal and Serenity from Gryffindor, Eugene Berry from Hufflepuff, Alice Spriggs from Ravenclaw, Lily and Aurora, Heather Woodcock, Oliver's younger sister and a few more of the younger Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor girls and boys - James noticed that, while these three houses had obviously decided that Christmas was a time to be jolly together, the Slytherins had chosen, as usual, to sit on the opposite side of the table, as far away from the rest of the school as possible.

"Ah, I see we are all assembled," Dumbledore's soft voice interrupted the chatter. "Excellent. In that case it falls to me, as usual, to wish you all a very merry Christmas, and may the feasting commence."

He clapped his hands amid loud cheers, and platters of turkey and potatoes appeared along with gravy to spare and more than enough Christmas crackers for everyone. Remus and Peter took the opportunity to get handfuls of self-made crackers out of their pockets and sneak them onto the table in the general confusion. Sirius, meanwhile, was fiddling with something under the table, and soon a twig of mistletoe was seen floating out at the Slytherin end.

It flew along the bench and upwards, then stopped just over Severus Snape's head. Several of the girls on the side opposite the Slytherins began to giggle, and even Professor McGonagall's eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement. Severus Snape, however, noticed nothing, until Florence finally gave a mischievous grin and got up. She walked around the table, tapped him on the shoulder and boldly kissed him on the lips, which caused an explosion of laughter from around the table and made Severus shoot up from his seat.

"What do you think you're doing?" he shouted.

But some of the other girls were emboldened by Florence's example and followed suit, until at last Lucius Malfoy rose and drew his wand.

"Back off, you idiots!" he cried, looking ready to hex anyone who did not obey.

"Malfoy! Sit down!" Professor Darkhardt commanded at once.

Lucius Malfoy scowled at him, but did as he was told.

Darkhardt turned to Sirius and nodded towards the boy with the mistletoe over his head. Sirius shrugged and, with a flick of his wand, summoned the twig back to him. Severus sat back down, glaring across the table.

After they had all eaten their fill of turkey, Yorkshire pudding and potatoes, these dishes miraculously vanished and mounds of Christmas pudding and cakes appeared, along with more custard and cream than they could possibly eat. James sneaked the biscuits laced with tickling potion in amongst the desserts and helped himself to a piece of cake.

They all tucked in, but their dessert was interrupted suddenly by a loud bang from the head of the table, and James spun around to see something small shoot up towards the enchanted ceiling. To everyone's astonishment, tiny Professor Flitwick was zooming around the Great Hall like a rocket, and it was a full two minutes before he came floating down again to land - rather unelegantly - right on top of Professor McGonagall's pudding.

Everyone was on their feet in a moment, surveying the damage and Professor Flitwick with some concern.

"Filius, are you all right?" McGonagall asked.

"I'm fine," Flitwick chuckled, standing up gingerly. "That was - exciting."

Professors Darkhardt and Dumbledore, meanwhile, were looking down at Professor Flitwick's Christmas hat where it had landed after toppling off his head when he had descended and studying it closely.

"It appears someone has attached one of Dr. Filibuster's best to this hat," Dumbledore remarked, turning to the students.

His eyes searched the rows of faces and came to rest on James, Remus, Sirius and Peter, who looked back at him guiltily.

"Err ... yes, well," Sirius began, "actually, something must have gone wrong there, Professor. You see, the hat was meant to spurt fireworks, not turn its wearer into one," he explained seriously, though he was hardly able to keep a straight face.

"That was a very dangerous thing to do," Professor McGonagall began to scold. "Professor Flitwick might have been badly injured, or worse ..."

"But I wasn't, Minerva," Flitwick spoke up. "And it's Christmas, so let's not hear of any punishment. I for one am eager to return to my custard."

He moved back towards his own seat and made to pick up his hat again, but Darkhardt quickly put out a hand to stop him.

"Perhaps you'd better remain hatless today," he suggested quietly.

Professor Flitwick, still chortling, sat down and picked up a biscuit.

"Oh no," Peter muttered.

But it was too late. The tiny professor had already taken his first eager bite and at once erupted in fits of laughter induced by the tickling potion. He calmed down after a few minutes, none the worse for his trials. But everyone else was very careful what they ate and touched after that.

When everyone had eaten so much that they thought they would burst, the dessert dishes also vanished. Eugene Berry suggested a nightly snowball fight in the grounds, and most of them agreed eagerly. The Slytherins, however, chose to remain by themselves and withdraw to their dungeon.

Once outside, Remus spotted Professor Darkhardt strolling off in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. He excused himself from the others and ran to catch up with the teacher.

"Professor!"

"Yes?"

Darkhardt stopped and turned round.

"I just wanted to thank you, sir."

"Thank me? What for?"

The book, sir," Remus replied. "It was from you, wasn't it?"

Professor Darkhardt gave one of his crooked smiles.

"Oh, that. Yes, that was from me."

"It's a very valuable gift, sir. I'm not sure I should accept it."

"And I wasn't sure I should give it. I'm not in the habit of showing favouritism, you know. That's why I didn't sign the card, and I'd be glad if you didn't tell anyone where it came from."

The professor then surprised Remus by laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Remus, I have had that book for a long time," he explained. "I have read it so often that I know it by heart. It is, as you say, very valuable. But I will have no one to leave it to one day. I know you will always treasure it and use it well."

The way the professor spoke made Remus feel anxious, as though something very important had been said here.

"I will, sir," he said. "I promise."

Snowball Fight

The students split into two teams with the boys on one side and the girls on the other. Their game was chaotic, and soon they were all covered in snow and rolling up with laughter.

Sirius threw a well-aimed snowball that hit Olivia on the side of the face, and immediately suffered the girls' revenge. Alice, Crystal and Florence pounced on him, while Heather, Serenity, Aurora and Bertha gathered hands full of snow and pushed them down his collar. James and Remus looked at one another and nodded.

Roaring in unison, they bent down to scoop up as much snow as they could carry and charged. Alice and Bertha jumped back, screaming. Remus and James crashed straight into the others and they all landed on the soft floor in a heap. Somewhere at the bottom of the pile, Sirius yelled.

"Geroff!" he shouted, laughing. "Help, someone!"

Those students still standing gathered round to survey the spectacle of arms and legs flying in all directions and laughed, then more of them joined the fray. Sirius struggled, but finally managed to crawl out from the bottom of the pile and get out of the way, gasping. Aurora came up to him and knelt down before him.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yeah," Sirius panted. "I'm fine, thanks. Just a bit breathless."

Aurora smiled sweetly.

"Good," she said. "Because I've got something for you."

She brought her hands out from behind her back and smothered his face with snow.

"Hey!" Sirius cried, while she jumped up, laughing. "I'll get you for this!"

And grabbing two hands full of snow, he chased after her.

James, meanwhile, had finally managed to get up again and was looking for his friends.

"Remus! Peter! Sirius!" he called, pulling several of the students off one another. "Are you in there?"

"I'm here, James," Remus said, suddenly turning up right beside him. "And there's Sirius."

He pointed, and they both watched as Sirius caught up with Aurora and sent her tumbling to the ground.

"I don't know about you," Remus added, "but I'm exhausted. I think I'll go up to bed and read or something."

James looked at his friend, his face darkening for a moment. He glanced up at the moon, which he knew would be full tomorrow.

"All right," he said. "See you."

Remus nodded and began making his way up to the castle. He was about to climb up the great staircase when he heard someone else step softly into the hallway. He turned and saw Heather standing there.

"Hello," she said timidly. "Where are you going?"

"I'm tired," Remus explained, "so I thought I'd go up to bed."

"Yes - you look tired," Heather said. She hesitated for a moment, then she said, "Would you mind waiting a minute? There's something I want to give you."

"All right," Remus answered, puzzled.

Heather dashed off to her common room and came back a few moments later, holding a very narrow parcel in her hand.

"This is for you," she said, holding it out.

"Oh," said Remus, taken aback. "But I - I can't take this. I don't have anything to give you."

"That's all right," she said eagerly. "I didn't think you would. But you've been so kind to me this year, helping me with Defence Against the Dark Arts and all - go on, open it."

Remus did as he was told, and soon he was looking down at a smart, shiny leather wand case.

"I hope you like it," Heather stammered.

"It's brilliant," he said. "Thank you. This is really kind of you ..."

"No, no," she said. "It's really nothing. I just thought ... well ..."

Remus looked down at her. Her blue eyes were sparkling, her normally pale cheeks flushed from the game, and she looked very pretty. He thought of what Sirius would say if he could see them now. She was just a little girl, not even thirteen. But the way she was looking at him ... Remus shook his head with a smile. He leaned down and kissed her cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Heather," he said, and he turned and walked away up the stairs.

James straightened up and yawned. Most of the students had gone to bed by now, but a few were still refusing to call it a day. He wondered where Sirius had got to. Over to one side, a little way away from the others, he saw Lily Evans standing by herself. James went over and flopped down in the snow beside her.

For a while, neither of them said anything at all. Somehow, James found the silence comfortable, very relaxing after the noise of the snowball fight. He looked up and noticed Lily look away quickly.

James rose and stood beside her. She looked up at him and smiled shyly. He opened his mouth to say something, but then the night breeze caught hold of her hair and he stopped, his mouth just hanging open. The way her hair was blowing and her green eyes ... they reminded him of something he'd seen before. Suddenly the images of last night's dream came back to him: Long red hair caught in the wind. A red veil, a pair of bright green eyes, that terrible feeling of doom, the glowing light, and then that scream ...

"James? James, are you all right?"

He opened his eyes and found himself back in the grounds of Hogwarts. Lily was still standing there, her hand was on his arm.

"Yes," he murmured, feeling a little dizzy. "It's nothing. It was just ..."

"Yes?"

"You know that feeling you get when something happens that you know has happened before? You see something and it's - it's just like something you've seen before?"

"Déjà-vu," Lily said.

"Exactly."

"What was it?"

"Er - well ...," James murmured, embarrassed.

"Yes?"

"It's silly," he said.

"No, I'm sure it's not," Lily insisted. "Well?"

James sighed.

"Oh, all right then. It was just - your hair."

"My hair?" Lily repeated, surprised.

"Yes. Your eyes, too. But especially your hair. I ..." - he hesitated, then explained reluctantly, "I saw it in a dream."

Lily laughed.

"I see. And do you often dream about my hair and my eyes?"

"No, only the once," he answered quickly.

Then he realised that wasn't true. There had been other occasions. He could remember at least one. There was that time after the Quidditch game.

"What's the matter?" Lily asked.

"I've just remembered," he said slowly. "There have been other times."

"Interesting," said Lily teasingly. "I'm sure Professor Trelawney would have a few good theories on that. What?" she added, noticing the dark look on his face.

"It's - I don't know, somehow, whenever I have these dreams, it's as if there's something bad about to happen in them. Something frightening."

"I didn't think anything frightened you," Lily said earnestly, looking at him as though she were seeing him in a new light. "You always seem so - sure of yourself."

"Oh, it does," he assured her. "Lord Voldemort, for instance. What might happen if he becomes much stronger."

"Yes," Lily agreed. "He frightens me, too. I've often wished there was something one could do ..."

James studied her a moment.

"There is," he said, taking her by the elbow and leading her away from the others. "Professor Dumbledore has formed an Order of people who have pledged themselves to the fight against Voldemort. Professor Darkhardt is one of those people, and he's started this group here at Hogwarts where he teaches us more about the Dark Arts and how to fight them. Things he can't show or tell us during lessons."

"A group of students? What can students do?"

"More than you think. He teaches us what weapons the other side have, and how to fight them. Several of us have already decided to become Aurors once we're finished. Frank, Damian, Gemma, ..."

Lily gave him a strange look.

"Have you made up your mind to become an Auror?" she asked quietly.

"More or less," he replied.

"But - that's a very dangerous job, James."

She sounded worried. James discovered he liked that.

"I know," he said. "But someone has to stand up to Voldemort and his supporters. Darkhardt is preparing us for that. We won't be students forever, Lily. Once we leave Hogwarts, we'll be as much threatened by Voldemort as everyone else, if no way has been found to defeat him by then."

"And you're asking me to join you?"

"I'm offering you a chance to decide whether you want to or not. Professor Darkhardt himself insists that no one should be persuaded to join against their wishes."

Lily thought for a moment before she said,

"I don't think I could ever become an Auror, James. I would love to do something to help in the fight against ... You-Know-Who ... but I don't think I could do that."

"You wouldn't have to," James replied eagerly. "Not everyone wants to be an Auror. Remus has made up his mind to become a teacher, Colin still wants to be a professional Quidditch player ... but they're still going to do all they can to fight the Dark Arts."

They had reached the steps to the castle. Lily stopped and paused.

"I would like to help," she said at last. "This is a threat no one can ignore, least of all a muggle-born like me."

"Great!"

Lily sighed.

"What's the matter?" James asked.

"It's Christmas," she said. "It should be a time of peace and joy; but it seems there isn't any peace to be had while this threat is lingering outside the castle walls. There's only darkness and gloom everywhere."

"I'm sorry I brought this up, today of all days," James answered, "but I'm sure Voldemort will be defeated one day, and the light will shine again."

He watched her troubled face and wondered what he could do to cheer her up. Suddenly an idea came to him, and he bent down, scooped up some snow and rolled and squeezed it into a hard icy ball. Then he took out his wand.

"What are you doing?" Lily asked curiously.

James flicked his wand at the handful of snow and muttered something under his breath. The snowball shifted and transformed, and in James's outstretched hand lay a glass rose blossom. Lily's green eyes widened as he handed it to her.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

Sirius and Aurora sat side by side on the fallen trunk of an old tree, talking quietly.

"So who exactly is in this secret society?" Aurora asked.

Sirius began ticking the names off on his fingers.

"Well, there's James, Remus, Peter, Frank and me. Damian Diggle, Oliver, Gemma, Donald, Flossie Fortescue, Royle and Ross, Richard and Colin. That's about all, I think. But a few more are thinking of joining soon. Fortuna Tripp, Hornby, Crystal Rose, Mary Crimple, ..."

"Don't forget Aurora Borealis," Aurora added. "You're not leaving me out of this!"

Sirius grinned.

"I wouldn't dare!"

They sat on in silence. Sirius gazed up at the moon. After a while he noticed Aurora follow his stare.

"You're thinking of Remus," she said suddenly.

Sirius turned abruptly.

"What?"

Aurora nodded towards the sky.

"The moon is almost full. Tomorrow night he'll transform."

Sirius's jaw dropped.

"You - you know?"

"I know a lot of things about people that they don't know I know," Aurora said simply. "I can't help it. Sometimes when people are touched by something emotionally, their thoughts spill out so plainly it's impossible to ignore them."

"Oh, really?" Sirius mumbled, taken aback.

Aurora laughed at his worried face.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't poke around in your mind on purpose. I'm sure there are a lot of things going on in there I wouldn't want to know about."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" he retorted hotly.

"You'd better keep your temper down, Sirius. Remember what I just said ..."

"Oh yeah. I wouldn't want my thoughts spilling out all over the place. So tell me, what have you found out about me?"

"No more than I could have deduced from your behaviour."

"And that is?"

She looked at him sideways, the corners of her mouth twitching.

"You're a rascal," she teased.

"I don't deny that," Sirius laughed.

"No. In fact you're rather proud of it, aren't you?" Aurora replied. "But I think there's more to you than that."

Sirius shifted uneasily at the serious tone of her voice.

"Oh?"

"Yes. You're loyal. You'd never let a friend down, or betray any one you care about. I think, deep down, you're really a very affectionate person. But you hate to admit that. You're afraid to show sincerity, because you believe it's unmanly to be emotional, and it makes you feel vulnerable. So you make yourself out to be the happy-go-lucky mischief-maker and pretend never to take anything seriously. Am I right?"

Sirius frowned.

"I'm not sure I like your analysing. Next you'll be telling me it all stems from a troubled childhood or something."

Aurora grinned.

"And does it?"

"Oh, shut up!"

Sirius got to his feet and started pacing. Aurora got up and caught his arm.

"You did ask me," she said.

"Yes, I suppose I did. But you're wrong, Aurora. I'm not afraid of being sincere."

"Prove it," she whispered, edging closer.

Sirius leaned his face towards her and she closed her eyes.

"Ouch!" she cried a moment later, holding her nose where he had pinched it. "You wait, you monster!"

Sirius ran off, laughing, but he soon let her catch up with him and he caught her in his arms. Aurora jabbed him in the chest, and Sirius got hold of both her arms and suddenly kissed her playfully on the lips.

Then he ran off again, and this time he didn't stop. Aurora watched him go and slowly shook her head. She had been right, of course. He refused to show any emotions unless he could make it appear that he didn't really care.

She found herself wondering whether love would be just a game to him, or whether he really did care about her as she had to admit she was beginning to care for him. Aurora sighed. Really, Sirius was quite impossible.

Slytherin's Rock

The man who had once been called Tom Riddle mocked the joyful carol singers, the priests in their festive garb, the people calling merry greetings to each other in the streets, the children singing - the very spirit of Christmas.

On a large, throne-like chair made of ebony in the large, cold banqueting hall of the black stone fortress perched atop the cragged, sinister and towering island known as Slytherin's Rock, surrounded by ferocious inky black waves that crashed against the shore, he sat hidden from the eyes of the world, gathering his forces and his powers and dreaming up new ways of achieving his ultimate aim: eternal life.

"Master!"

His hard eyes pierced the gloom and focused on the figure moving towards him. The young woman stopped and bowed low. Lord Voldemort lifted his hand and she stood. He studied her face.

Paula Lestrange had changed much since she had first come to him, when she had still been Paula Pettigrew. Her hair, for a start, had been fair, but she had since used a spell to turn it permanently dark, to distinguish herself once and for all from her sister, whom he understood she hated from the bottom of her heart. Her features were harder too, and her eyes colder. These eyes were looking at him now, both self-confidently and with submissive respect.

"What is it?" the Dark Lord queried.

"We have received an owl from Lucius Malfoy. He confirms his readiness to perform any deed you may ask of him, and respectfully begs to receive your further instructions. What shall I reply?"

"You need not trouble," Voldemort replied slowly. "I will write to him myself tomorrow."

"Yes, master. I also have news from my husband."

This time, Voldemort regarded her with real interest, leaning forward in his chair.

"Yes?"

"He was able to - shall we say 'persuade' the minister to sign the required documents. Vindictus Lothian will be released from Azkaban prison within the hour, and my husband will bring him straight to you."

Voldemort gave a crooked smile.

"Excellent. We shall see how long our enemies are able to hide once he returns to help us seek them. Anything else?"

"Mcnair is organising the creatures you asked for. The two dozen Cornish pixies you requested arrived this morning."

"Good. Write to Mcnair, Paula. Tell him I will soon be needing more, and tell him I want some house elves. Say ... six. I have a plan ..."

"You mean you have discovered a spell that will bring you immortality?"

"I am not sure. To begin with, I will settle for one that will considerably lengthen my life span. That is a start. That is why I wanted the pixies ... The other possibility I have discovered may be suited to make me both immortal and invincible, but I want to be sure before I use that spell. You see, it requires the sacrifice of a human life - a wizard life, unfortunately - and if it should be interrupted, it can never be completed."

"I see. You are still looking for a suitable wizard, I suppose ...?"

"Not necessarily. Any wizard or witch will do. All I need is the magic life force, you see. I have no doubt that there is no shortage of foolish wizards out there who will choose to oppose us. That old fool Dumbledore is, I believe, gathering forces of his own. Well, let him. When his friends start coming to look for us, we will be ready for them."

"Yes, master."

Boxing Day

Lucius Malfoy was tucking into bacon and egg when the screech owl landed on the Slytherin table. He picked up the letter it had dropped and looked at the writing. His name was on the parchment, written in black ink in a thin, slanted hand. Lucius tucked it away inside his robes, pushed aside his breakfast and left the Great Hall in a hurry.

Back in the Slytherin common room, he found a seat in a corner and took out the letter. He opened it and began reading. It was from Lord Voldemort, and it contained instructions ... instructions on where to find a certain object the Dark Lord wanted him, Lucius Malfoy, to take into his safekeeping in case it should ever be needed. A diary, at present hidden away behind a secret panel in a room off the third floor corridor. Lucius decided he would go and fetch it tonight.

Lucius Malfoy was not the only one making plans for that night. Up in their dormitory, James, Sirius, Remus and Peter sat plotting what they would get up to.

"Hogsmeade, I think. Don't you?" Sirius suggested.

"I don't know," said Remus. "I wouldn't mind the Forbidden Forest, actually. We might meet one of the centaurs."

Peter shivered.

"I think I'd prefer Hogsmeade," he said. "The Forest is creepy. It scares me."

"Doesn't bother me," Sirius shrugged.

"It wouldn't, would it?" Peter answered back. "It's all right for you three. There's not much danger for a stag, a dog and a wolf in there. It's different for me."

"We'd look after you, Wormtail," James promised. "But I don't mind Hogsmeade, if that's what you prefer. Moony?"

"All right," Remus agreed. "I wouldn't mind taking a look at the caves round there."

"Think you might come across some mysterious runes that will show us the way to a hidden treasure, do you?" Sirius joked. "Good. I'll use my share to buy myself that motorbike."

"We probably wouldn't be able to open the treasure chest without our wands, though," James put in, winking at Sirius, who grinned back at him.

"Oh yes," he said mischievously. "We'd need a wand. Problem is, how would we carry it without leaving teeth marks on the wand? Of course, you could lend us that nice new wand case of yours, Remus. Then I could carry it between my teeth."

Remus stared at him, then he smiled back.

"All right, you spotted it, did you?"

"Hard not to," Peter said. "Usually you just have your wand sticking in your belt, but today it's tucked away nicely in a leather case in your inside pocket."

"You got a lot of surprise presents this year, didn't you, Moony?" James commented. "Who was that one from?"

Remus didn't answer, but began concentrating on the Every Flavour Bean he was unwrapping.

"I think I can guess," said Sirius, nudging him in the ribs. "You want to watch it, Remus. Don't let that little Ravenclaw get her hooks into you too firmly. You're too young to tie yourself down yet."

"Don't be ridiculous, Sirius," Remus protested. "She's just a kid. It's nothing serious."

"Ah!" Sirius wagged his finger warningly. "Your saying that confirms my worst fears."

He shook his head in mock distress.

"Alas, poor Remus. He was young, he had a life of fun and adventure before him, but at the tender age of fifteen, before his life had really begun, he threw it away on a pair of sky-blue eyes and curly brown hair."

"You can talk," Remus laughed. "Where were you last night? Come on, I heard you come to bed. My curtains may have been drawn, but I wasn't asleep, you know. Miss Borealis keep you up late?"

"Maybe," Sirius replied, popping a Pepper Imp in his mouth, "but I'll tell you one thing. I don't intend to throw my heart away on the first girl with pretty eyes who comes my way."

"Listen to Sirius Casanova Black," James teased. "Mad marauder and breaker of women's hearts."

Sirius laughed.

"It's all very well to sneer. I'll be the one laughing in the end, you wait. You three will be rocking a baby in each arm one day, listening to your wives nagging you to take the rubbish out the back, while I'm still taking my pick of the girls and having a good time into the bargain."

James, Peter and Sirius sneaked out at midnight, all huddled together under James's Invisibility Cloak. Sirius held the map.

"Wait," he whispered when they stood just inside the common room. "Mrs. Norris ... there, she's gone."

James pushed the portrait back and they climbed through the hole in the wall. As quietly as they could, they made their way along the corridor and down the stairs. Once out in the grounds, they moved a little faster. Sirius checked the map again when they reached the Whomping Willow.

"Mischief managed," he murmured, wiping it clean.

James pulled the Cloak off them and folded it carefully.

"Off you go, Peter," he said.

Peter Pettigrew stepped forward, and a second later he had transformed into the rat. He ran up to the trunk and pressed the knoll. The Whomping Willow froze. Sirius and James followed him through the hole, and James shoved the Cloak in a nook above their heads before he and Sirius quickly transformed. They hurried along the tunnel, and as they grew nearer to the end, they could hear the familiar growling and scraping sounds behind the door.

Sirius pushed it open with a paw. The creature on the other side stopped growling when it saw him and trotted towards them. Only a moment later, all four of them had run back along the tunnel, the rat had frozen the trunk again and they were all out in the open, running towards Hogsmeade.

The village was quiet. Prongs the stag tossed his antlers towards the hills beyond, and the others followed him away from the houses, through the bushes and across a small brook. They poked their noses in the caves. One of these went a long way down. Padfoot and Prongs looked at one another and strolled out again, setting off together to investigate the next cave.

It wasn't until Wormtail scuttled in ten minutes later that they realised they were quite alone. Prongs raced out of the cave immediately and looked around. Padfoot came up beside him and sniffed the ground, then darted off in the direction of the village, the others in hot pursuit.

Meanwhile, the werewolf was peering round the corner of Zonko's onto the lonely street. Someone had just stepped out of one of the houses, and the creature licked its lips. The man was alone, a stranger dressed in a black cloak, a hood pulled up to hide his face. He moved and was about to come round the corner. The werewolf bared its teeth ... suddenly someone else appeared on the street. The first man turned and walked towards the newcomer.

Lurking in the shadows, the werewolf could wait no longer. Its shackles raised, it prepared to leap out at the two men. But before it had time to do so, something large and black descended on it, and the shadow of a large stag appeared right behind. The two animals on the ground rolled about scratching each other for a moment, then the werewolf drew back and lowered its head. The stag nodded towards the hills and the others followed.

Out in the street, the two hooded figures stood face to face.

"You are Vindictus Lothian?" one of them asked.

"Yes," the other replied in a hoarse voice.

"Leonard Lestrange," the first man introduced himself. "I was sent to meet you. Come with me ..."

And together they walked off into the night.