Christmas Dilemma

I love the Christmas-tide, and yet,
I notice with this, each year I live;
I always like the gifts I get,
But how I love the gifts I give!
Booth Tarkington, 1921

"C'mon, Albus, we're going to be late," Isaac whined from the door. Albus sighed.

"Isaac, Professor Dickenson only arrived last night. I doubt rather highly that he is already sitting in the Potions dungeon, waiting to mark us tardy. Besides that, he's very friendly, and only six years older than either of us. Hardly worth running down four flights of stairs to arrive, sweaty and exhausted, twenty minutes early," he told the other boy, sensibly. Isaac frowned - he tended to take these things very seriously.

"It's all well and good for you, he's your cousin and you already have excellent marks in this subject. But the rest of us have struggled mightily under the last six Potions masters, and I, for one, would like to try and start off on the right food with this one."

"Very well, Isaac," Albus said, sighing. "I'm ready, let's go."

December at Hogwarts was unlike anything else on Earth, and especially anything else in stuffy, repressive Britain or Ireland. Albus never went home for the holiday, preferring to remain in the castle and enjoy the decorations put up by the Transfiguration and Charms professors. Most of the Muggle-borns chose to go home - the traditions at Hogwarts were somewhat different from the outside world - and so did most of the wizard-born. Albus and his roommates were the exception to the rule - all nine of them were remaining over the holiday. The only other Gryffindor boy to stay was Ron Quirrell, Head Boy and professional absent-minded academic. It'd been that way since Albus had started school - all the Gryffindor boys in his year stayed, as did Ron, and everyone else vacated the Tower in favor of home. This year it was literally true - none of the girls, even, were staying behind.

There were two major consequences to this circumstance - first, the Gryffindor boys ran wild throughout the dormitories during the entire vacation; second, they put off their gift-buying longer than anyone else in school, since they would exchange gifts on Christmas Day itself, rather than the day before the train went back to London. Albus still needed to arrange presents for six of his roommates; he had sent gifts home to his family after the Prefects' Hogsmeade trip in late November, and already had gifts for everyone else.

These were the thoughts that occupied his mind as he and Isaac sat in the deserted Potions dungeon, waiting for the new teacher and their classmates in Gryffindor and Slytherin. Their last professor, Timothy Pascal, had gotten dosed with an unusually powerful Truth serum by an anxious seventh-year last month; he was at St. Mungo's now, and would take the rest of the year off to take care of all the apology letters he had to write. The professor before him, Madeline Moray, had been sacked after killing three pet toads belonging to particularly Potions-challenged Hufflepuffs. This would be their seventh Potions master in five years - rumor had it that the position had been hexed.

Albus wasn't really sorry to see Professor Pascal or Professor Moray go, though he had wished some of the others might have stayed. A few were a bit prickly, but had a lot of talent and understanding of Potions and their potential. One was a particularly gifted teacher - Professor Ignatius - who had even inspired Isaac and some of the other potion-haters in Gryffindor to make an effort at the subject. But you can't really ask a teacher to stay at Hogwarts when his only brother dies, and he suddenly must care of nine of his nieces and nephews, and so they'd said good-bye to Professor Ignatius, at the end of third year.

Albus had high hopes that the cycle of changing Potions masters might change, now that his cousin, Peter Dickinson, was taking over. The headmaster hadn't been able to find anyone to accept the position after the truth potion incident, and had gone to a recent graduate out of desperation, but Peter was very pleased to be returning to his alma mater. Just four years ago, he had been Head Boy (and, in Albus' opinion, a far more satisfactory one than "often wrong" Ron), Quidditch captain, and Potions prodigy. His only downfall was Transfiguration (Albus' favorite subject), but his Potions marks more than made up for that. He had been planning to set up as an Apothecary in Diagon Alley, but the call to Hogwarts was far more enticing, as he had told Albus in his most recent letter.

The class had already been assembled for a few minutes (Gryffindors in front, Slytherins in back, as always) when Peter arrived, practically skipping out of his new office and into the classroom. "Hello, all, and welcome to the latest incarnation of fifth-year potions... if any of you don't remember me, I'm Peter - don't bother calling me 'Professor,' as it makes me feel like an old man. Now, I know that this year, Professor Pascal meant for you to be studying out of The Alchemists' Tome, but to be honest, that's just the longest volume of Potions material available to the general public, which happens to provide you the least possible amount of useful information for this level. Keep it around for when you're brewing things here, in two years' time - it's much too advanced to be of any use this year. Instead, we're going to be using the book you used last year - Medicamenti Quotidiana. I'm sure you're all pleased to be moving back to Latin instead of Greek, though you'll still need to know the Greek for sixth-year potions, so don't go forgetting it." Albus and the other Gryffindors all grinned - they hated The Alchemists' Tome, and had complained bitterly upon finding it on their book lists. The Slytherins didn't look very happy; everyone in that house took Ancient Runes, and they had enjoyed knowing the Greek in their textbook better than anyone else.

The rest of the lesson went smoothly; Albus and his classmates knew as much as they were supposed to, both the Slytherins and Gryffindors (Peter had expressed some doubts about how well the Hufflepuffs would do, after the trauma of dealing with Professor Moray, a vindictive Ravenclaw). Afterwards, Albus and his friends were invited to visit Peter's quarters in the staff wing this evening after dinner, and then they left for History of Magic with Professor Binns, who was the youngest teacher other than Peter, and had a real fondness for reenacting goblin rebellions in the classroom.

After a brief trip to the Hospital Wing (Isaac and Jared both got black eyes in the latest version of the fistfight that broke out amongst the leaders of the 1612 Goblin Rebellion - in the actual meeting, three goblins died, but there were no casualties this afternoon), they split up; Albus, Jacob, Emily, Sara, Walter, Susan, and Eustace all went to Arithmancy, while everyone else went to Care of Magical Creatures. The afternoon passed quickly; Professor Hoffnung was focused so much on correcting Walter's mathematical analysis of the Magna Carta that the rest of them were able to sit and whisper back and forth about whatever they liked - the conversations Albus overheard mostly involved Ravenclaw's loss to Hufflepuff over the last weekend in November, and who might be selected to be Triwizard Champion next year.

The last time, they had all been first-years, and it had been held at Beauxbatons; this time, they'd all have a decent shot of becoming champion, as sixth-years, and it was going to be held at Hogwarts. It was only the fourth time the Tournament had been held this century - last time had been remarkably death-free, and Ministry of Magic had agreed to hold it again on schedule. It had been held once in 1800, and again in 1825, each time with less-than satisfactory results. Albus and the others knew they were very fortunate to be at Hogwarts right at this time, since each Tournament might be the last (it hadn't been held regularly since the mid-17^th century).

After dinner, Albus, Isaac, Emily, and Ophelia all made their way to the Staff wing. Albus and Ophelia were both prefects, and so they had the password ("nascosto") already; they made their way through the darkened corridors, past the rooms for the teachers who weren't Head of any house, to Professor Binn's rooms. Just past his rooms (which he shared with his wife and son, Manassah, a cute six-year-old with an amazing head for dates and names) was the only currently unoccupied set of chambers on this corridor, which had been assigned to Peter. Albus knocked on the door, and after a moment it swung open, revealing a room filled with baskets and trunks and not a single piece of furniture. Peter was standing in Muggle shirtsleeves and trousers, looming over a particularly large trunk and looking annoyed and sweaty. "Ah, sorry about that, I meant to transfigure some chairs before you got here, but I got lost in my search for the latest issue of Ars Alchemica... hold on just a moment. There you go," he said, adjusting his glasses with his right hand as he transfigured four of the trunks and an empty birdcage into high backed chairs with his wand. "I don't like Summoning printed materials, they tend to catch on things," he explained, sitting down in the red and gold colored one. Albus chose the blue and green chair, and the other sat down as well.

"So, how has the term gone so far? The headmaster told me we were victorious over Slytherin - congratulations on that, Ophelia, you're an alumni favorite now - and that Slytherin beat Ravenclaw, as did Hufflepuff. And I heard from Professor Binns that you're into the middle of the eighteenth century now, covering the problems of wizard emigration to the colonies?" Albus and the others nodded; today they'd talked about the dramatic drop in Hogwarts enrollment that occurred in the 1750's, and how it influenced the makeup of the delegation to the International Confederation of Warlocks in the 1770's. Ophelia frowned suddenly.

"We're done preparing to take the S.W.A.T.s in June, Peter, in all our classes except for Potions. I think we're really behind, to be honest. We've lost seven months of teaching, thanks to all these teachers leaving, since first year. I've read the standard syllabus, and we should be in The Alchemists' Tome this year. And I can't afford to not get that test, I'm trying to transfer from Care of Magical Creatures to Arithmancy." Albus grinned - Ophelia had been talked into that class by some of her roommates, and had hated every moment of it. He'd been sharing his Arithmancy notes with her since February of their third year. Peter, meanwhile, shook his head.

"I understand, Ophelia, but no one in fifth year is ready for that text yet. For that matter, no one in sixth year is, either. It won't do you any good at all trying to perform potions like that when you haven't mastered the more basic principles of the art. And don't worry about the test, I have a lot of leverage when it comes to deciding what's covered and how it's scored." They nodded at that; unlike on the N.E.W.T.s, the teachers at Hogwarts were allowed to write the fifth-year exams themselves. In some ways, that wasn't so nice (in Herbology, for instance, it meant that Professor Stamm got to give a 13-hour written essay exam), but it meant that they probably had a chance of getting the qualification for Potions, and being allowed to move to the next level of classes.

"So, Peter, how were your other students?" Isaac asked this, having finally gotten up the courage to speak (Isaac tended to stay quiet longer than anyone else in their year; he didn't like meeting new people). Peter smiled.

"The Gryffindors were all on track, as far as I'm concerned - and don't give me that look, Emily Neuberg, I'm telling the truth; you all have been done a great disservice with all these teachers coming in and out, but you're doing better than I would have expected under the circumstances. The Slytherins and Ravenclaws are mostly all right, though there are a few who are too used to having Ravenclaw teachers. They thought they could trick me with cleverness and fancy words, but none of the ones I saw today knew anything on last year's syllabus well enough. And the Hufflepuffs are even worse than I anticipated. Honestly, I don't think even a Slytherin professor could have induced this kind of terror in them. The poor third-years - the ones that had their toads poisoned - can barely pick up a ladle without tripping over themselves. I took thirty points from Ravenclaw, they were making so many snide comments."

"That's an awful lot of points for one class," Albus said diplomatically - Ravenclaw had only been leading Gryffindor by 40 points as of this afternoon (their excellent Potions records making up for all the Quidditch losses), and this would put them within ten points of the lead for the first time all term. He had no interest in serving tea to the Ravenclaw prefects at the first Hogsmeade weekend next year; he'd even prefer Hufflepuff or Slytherin win the House cup, just to ensure they didn't. Peter shrugged.

"They've earned seven hundred points from this class, just in September and October. They can afford the loss - and they can afford the lesson in proper classroom decorum," he said firmly. When he had been Head Boy, he had given the Gryffindors an hour long lecture on not losing house points for horseplay and other inappropriate conduct in classes; he had terrified the first-years into complete silence in their classes until sometime around Halloween. "And beside that, the Hufflepuffs have lost almost six hundred points, again just in Potions. They earned ten of those back today. Anyway, let's talk about something else," he said suddenly, conjuring a tea service that slowly began floating from person to person. Albus took his tea with four lumps of sugar, before the tray floated to Isaac. "What are your plans for the holiday?"

Emily smiled. "I'm going to North Africa with my parents and brother. Mum wanted to go on a safari, but she didn't want to do it in the summer. Father says we're not to use magic at all; it'll be an authentic Muggle experience." Peter nodded.

"That sounds exciting. I suggest you take your wand along, though - I doubt Marion will hold to that declaration once he feels the heat of that sun," he said, smiling. "How about you, Ophelia?" The other girl shrugged.

"Mother and I will be going to my grandfather's house in Edinburgh, I imagine. Father hasn't been able to spend more than New Year's with us, since he joined the Ministry. There are only five jurists in all of Scotland, so they can't afford to let him take time away." Peter shook his head.

"The Ministry is still fairly new, of course. Nonetheless, you would think that more honorable men like your father would choose to serve, despite the lack of compensation. Winston Baddock is a great example - though I imagine it must not be very comforting for you or your mother," Peter added kindly. She shrugged again.

"We know it's important work, and the Minister himself asked - and Father always says, if Nicholas Flamel asks you to do something, you - well, you do it. Especially since they had to drag him back to fill the position of Minister in the first place." Peter nodded.

"I remember my own father talking about that. It's not the sort of position a sane person really wants, you know. The only qualified people have to be forced to take it; anyone who wants it is, by definition, not qualified. A bit of a conundrum, honestly. So, what are you doing, Isaac, over Christmas?" Isaac shrugged.

"We always stay over in Gryffindor Tower, of course. All nine of us. Kind of a tradition."

"Oh, right, right," Peter said, snapping his fingers. "I had a look at the sign-up list, it looks like the Tower will be almost deserted, other than you lot and Quirrell. Reminds me, it's a bit funny they chose him to be Head Boy... not quite awake most of the time, I think." Albus laughed, earning a puzzled look from Peter, and an annoyed look from Ophelia. She sighed.

"They chose Ron because no one else wanted it. It was all the sixth-year prefects, they went to the fifth- and seventh-years and got them all to pledge their votes to him. Supposedly this year was going to be a bit of a nightmare, because of the preparations for the Tournament. More duties for the teachers to take of, so more things got passed down to whoever was Head Boy and Head Girl. Poor Eliza actually volunteered, of course. Then again, there's never been any question that she belongs in Hufflepuff; she saw it as her duty." Peter nodded.

"I remember that about her, too. Used to take it upon herself to ensure all her classmates were on time to their classes, until we told her to stop. Some of the girls in her year got to second year without knowing for sure how to get to the Potions dungeon, since she always shepherded them along. In any event, both she and 'often wrong' seem to be doing a fine job of organizing things..."

"That reminds me," Isaac said, frowning. "I've been meaning to ask, how on earth did Ron earn that nickname? It's really dreadful..." Peter sighed.

"Well, you know, his head is usually in the clouds somewhere. Absolutely brilliant, perfect marks on all his schoolwork and all that, but half the time you try talking about History of Magic with him, he'll start telling you about the latest article in Transfiguration Today. Been like that since he showed up at the Welcome Feast that first time; he'd already memorized all the textbooks but they had to call his name three times before he realized it was his turn to get Sorted. Has the same problem in class - I don't think anyone's ever gotten the right answer out of him, asking a question out of the blue, in any subject. So he's often wrong, you see; he never gets the correct answer. The Ravenclaws started it; they're merciless even to their own - Gryffindors are fair game, of course. Then the Slytherins and Gryffindors picked it up, and now, only a handful of Hufflepuffs and the kinder professors refrain. Most younger students, like you lot, haven't heard anything else, that's just how you think of him. Not much we can do about it now, I'm afraid."

"That reminds me," Ophelia said, reaching into her robe pockets. "All the prefects want to get together and buy Ron and Eliza a gift for Christmas, since they've pledged to stay over the holiday to make sure things are ready for next term. Your share is... five sickles, Albus." Albus nodded, then frowned.

"They don't need help choosing it?" She shook her head.

"No, Rodney Carter is handling it. He came up with this plan while you were in double Arithmancy, and had his sister come and tell me before you came in for dinner. You know Rodney; if he gets an idea in his head, he's on his broom and halfway to Diagon Alley before letting anyone else know he's had a thought." Albus nodded.

"Well, that's good, because I'm still trying to think of one for Eustace, and I fear all my good ideas are gone already."

"Really?" Emily looked over at the two of them. "I can't think of a thing for Eustace, either. All my other gifts are bought and wrapped, but well... I can't think of a thing he'd like." Albus nodded in sympathy, but it was Ophelia who spoke.

"That's no good," she said faintly, "because I was counting on the two of you to come up with something. You know me, I took care of the rest of this on our first trip to Hogsmeade in September. But I couldn't find a thing for Eustace, and nothing listed in the Daily Prophet is within my budget." Isaac frowned.

"I haven't got anything for him, either. Most of us haven't bought our gifts," he explained to Peter, referring to the Gryffindor boys. "Since we'll all be here on the holiday. But I have something planned for everyone but Eustace."

"None of the other girls have a clue," Ophelia told them. "Emily here was my last hope - well, and you, Albus. He sleeps in the bed next to yours, right?" Albus nodded.

"Right. But he doesn't read, he doesn't have any games, he doesn't talk about liking anything, doesn't follow Quidditch, and can't stand sweets," he said, making that last one sound rather like a capital offense. "All he does is write, all the time, with Muggle pens and paper. Well, and collect insects," Albus amended. "I'm not sure why he didn't take Care of Magical Creatures..."

"He probably likes them better dead," Isaac said, wrinkling his nose. "He has a case at home full of the insects he's gotten from around the greenhouses, he was telling one of the girls from Hufflepuff about it during a lesson last week."

"We could always get him... erm... bug collecting equipment," Emily said, but Albus shook his head.

"I already checked, there isn't anything like that in the Daily Prophet or anywhere here in Hogsmeade - we'd have to get it from a Muggle shop. And the only place you can change galleons for Muggle money is at Gringott's, which isn't accessible from here, with the anti-Apparition wards." The other three nodded, realizing the futility of that idea; only seventh-years and professors were allowed to leave the grounds to Apparate (and anyway, only a handful of the fifth years had learned to do it well enough to keep from splinching themselves on long-distance trips). Peter cleared his throat.

"Well, if you lot can't come up with anything, I'll be Apparating to Diagon Alley for some business on the twenty-third, before heading to my parents' house. If you need me to, I'll get your money changed, and buy insect collecting equipment. You'll have to tell me where to go, though. I've never bought anything from a Muggle shop, other than a few chemicals and books that no one in Diagon Alley carries. Flourish and Blotts has a decent enough stock of relevant Muggle science publications, of course. A major 'curiosity item,' the manager told me." Emily looked quite shocked at the idea of a professor going into a Muggle shop, but Ophelia and Isaac were both already quite used to this aspect of Albus' family; they saw nothing wrong with dealing with Muggles as equals.

"That would be wonderful, Peter," Ophelia said, smiling. "Now, it's nearly nine, and even though we're both prefects and we're all fifth-year, it's hardly setting a good example for the younger students, being out past curfew on a week night." The others nodded and stood - technically, fifth-years could stay out of their dormitories until ten, and prefects had standing authority to patrol the halls at all hours. But there was no need to tempt the Ravenclaw professors to take away points, especially when they were only ten points away from overtaking that house in the cup race. So, they said their good-nights to Peter, and began making their way back from the staff wing to the portrait hole.

There were a few close calls, but thanks to Isaac's good hearing, they were able to avoid the caretaker and all the professors who were still wandering about the halls, and made it to the portrait hole by nine. They gave the password to the Pink Lady - "holly and ivy" - and barely got any kind of a lecture ("just in the nick of time, dears!"). Then they stood in the common room, which had already quieted down significantly, for a few moments before saying good night to one another, and going to their separate dormitories.

* * * * *

December passed with disturbing rapidity, leaving Albus and the others feeling breathless, and with nary a gift idea for Eustace amongst them. For his part, Eustace had already set up a basket of gifts for all the Gryffindors in their year on top of his trunk. His gifts were always perfectly suited to each of them - while Albus was fairly easy (woolen socks and a half dozen chocolate frogs), last year he'd gotten Emily exactly the book she had been wishing she could get from Diagon Alley, and Ophelia had received both an illicit copy of 658 of the 700 current Quidditch fouls and a pair of flying gloves. Eustace was an only child, who called his parents by their first names but only because they made him do so. In their first year, Albus knew, the boy (who was younger than anyone else in their year) had written quite a lot of poetry. Unfortunately, some of the Slytherins and Ravenclaws (who often traveled together) had gotten hold of one of his notebooks, and since that time he had charmed all his writings so that no one could read them without a password.

The last three years running, Albus had gotten his roommate a blank journal each year - his older brother, Alberforth, had picked them up in shops in London, on Albus' request. And while Eustace had seemed to like the notebooks (and the pens, and the dozens of books the others had gotten him on entomology), they weren't really proper wizard Christmas gifts. While most Muggles gave each other 'useful' gifts, like gloves and handkerchiefs and the like, wizards usually gave one another presents that were flashy, unique, and usually frivolous.

Admittedly, Albus liked the socks from Eustace rather more than some of the things his other roommates had given him (he had remarkably little use for the collection of Sneakoscopes that Jared had given him - he gave everyone the same gifts almost every year), but he felt they could do better than field manuals and writing implements for Eustace. The trouble is, hardly anything really knew anything about him - and it was rather late to start asking personal questions, after knowing him for five years!

Three of the boys had taken to trying to spy on Eustace, with Jared following him about to see what books he looked at in the library, Walter questioning all the Hufflepuffs he liked to talk to, and Jacob looking (carefully) through the other boy's things while he was at class. Ophelia had gotten the other girl in their year who was a prefect, Mary, to talk to professors and find out what he liked to write about, when they had an open-ended assignment. Jane and Sara had written home to their families, gathering information on entomology equipment and where in London you could buy it. Emily started working on getting any official information from the Ministry officials she knew through her father - the Ministry kept a lot of extra records on Muggle-born students, in case something happened to their parents (at least, that's what the Ministry said). Albus and Isaac had the hardest job of all; trying to become better friends with Eustace to find out what he might like.

Everyone helped because everyone was in the same boat - no one had a gift arranged for Eustace yet. They were down to four days before the trip to Hogsmeade, and five days until the Hogwarts Express went back to London, when they held a meeting to discuss the situation. And the news wasn't good, not at all.

"Nothing," Emily proclaimed. "If there are records on Eustace or his family, no one I know can find it. I thought about owling Perenelle Flamel, but Father's bound to find out, and she's never at the Ministry itself anyway. I doubt very highly that the Minister is personally involved in Eustace's life, so the only access she'd have would be to the files in his secretary's office. And I know one of the junior clerks in that office, and he swears there aren't any files on Muggle-born Hogwarts students anywhere there."

"Same goes for me," Mary said, sighing. "Almost all the teachers told me that papers are confidential, and that they couldn't say anything - but I got some information from Binns. Says that the professors are really impressed with Eustace's writing skills, and that Professor Thompson loves to talk about his insect collection. Unfortunately," she said, sounding disappointed, "we already knew that. And I'm pretty sure I'm tired of buying field guides." The others nodded.

"Well, if we can't think of anything else, Jane and I came up with three locations in London where you can buy equipment for collecting bugs. My mother thinks I've gone out of my mind, of course," Sara said sourly. "First witchcraft, now insects. Next she'll be expecting me to join the Roman Catholic church. I'm not looking forward to the discussion over dinner the night we go home - and I'm certain I'm going to get a set of field glasses, instead of the book I've been wanting. Of course, they'd never really buy me a book, so it's not that big of a loss," she added, mostly to herself. She belonged to a family with ties to the throne, and her father had been knighted a number of years ago for his service in the Napoleonic wars (he was rather old). She had a collection of embroidered handkerchiefs she had been forced to make as a child - she used them to practice Charms and Transfiguration (and when she was in a foul mood, Potions). And her parents thought reading was most unladylike.

"This is highly unsatisfactory," Ophelia declared. "Eustace always comes up with perfect gifts - and none of us can remember any significant conversations with him. He's like a ghost, we hardly even notice him anymore." Everyone nodded.

"He's even quieter than me," Isaac said slowly. "I mean, I speak up eventually... he never talks when any of us are around, really. Except about the weather." It was true; Albus suspected that Eustace knew a lot about them all because he listened while they talked. Of course, it meant they didn't know anything about him, but maybe he liked it that way. Maybe it'd be a better idea to just give him another pen and notebook...

"All right. We have to at least make one last attempt in Diagon Alley," Jared (the other Gryffindor prefect in their year - there were four in all) declared. "Everyone helps. We can divide up amongst the shops - it should probably be boys paired with girls, so we can get both perspectives in each one. There'll be one girl left over, so we'll have one group of three."

"We'll go together," Soledad declared, indicating herself and Claudia (they did everything together; their mothers had been close friends in school).

"I'll join them," Jacob said. Albus tried not to smile at that - everyone knew he liked Claudia a great deal.

"That leaves the rest of us to pair up," Ophelia said. "Albus, you and I can go to the bookshop at the edge of town." Albus nodded, and everyone else paired up as well, with varying degrees of enthusiasm (Isaac looked nervous at the idea of partnering Sara), and started claiming the different shops within Hogsmeade. There were sixteen shops in all, so every group except Albus and Ophelia took two; they had to walk all the way out to the bookshop - everyone knew that only the two of them ever bothered going there, as it was unofficially Ravenclaw territory, and also the last store before the road turned up into the mountains. The books that were found there were worth the effort and the Ravenclaws, though; Albus and his mother even Apparated to the village during the summers (with an older brother, there had been a lot of pressure for him to learn that skill rather younger than was usual) just to peruse the stacks. It had a far greater collection than any bookshop in Diagon Alley - or even many private homes. If the perfect book for Eustace was anywhere, it'd be at Professor Adam's shop.

With their plan organized, everyone turned to the other major business of the end of the term: examinations and homework. The teachers were feeling kind this year, and had given out the Christmas holiday assignments early enough that it was possible to finish it before the holiday started. Unfortunately, they had also all planned exams and recitations in the last classes of the term, so hardly anyone was actually doing the holiday work yet. Especially for the fifth and seventh years, who were preparing for the standard examinations, there was enough to study to keep them busy every waking hour. Albus, Issac, and Emily were all in Muggle Studies together, and were expecting a very difficult exam on the writings of Machiavelli and John Locke on Thursday. It was past ten when they finally broke up and went to bed, without a thought of Eustace's present in any of their heads.

* * * * *

At eleven in the morning, the Saturday before the Hogwarts Express was to leave, the Gryffindor fifth-years made their way down to the Great Hall, to go to Hogsmeade. Eustace had left the common room several hours earlier, and they didn't see him as they walked along the path to the front gates, and into town. It was just as well, really, since they all had missions. Albus and Ophelia said good-bye to their friends, and walked briskly along the main street in Hogsmeade for fifteen minutes, reaching the bookshop before any of the Ravenclaws could. They split up once they got inside; Albus took the main floor, while Ophelia took the loft. They spent a good two or three hours there (Albus chose new presents for several of his friends; there was a new edition of Quidditch, A History that he knew Jared and Walter would both appreciate more than what he had planned to get them), but neither found anything that they thought Eustace would like, that he didn't already have (they were both carrying a list of all the books that Eustace had in his trunk, as well as the books other people remembered having given him).

Ophelia looked disheartened when she climbed back down the stairs, and Albus had to admit his own frustration. Everything that looked the least bit likely, Eustace already had a copy of. They walked back in silence, and Albus felt that their last chance - the others finding something really superb - was not looking very promising. He wondered if Alberforth could make a quick trip to London for another journal...

No one else had had any luck, either. Zonko's had a lot of new things, but none of them seemed to be the sort of thing that Eustace might like (except, perhaps, a fake wand that turned into a beetle - but it looked pretty silly, and didn't feel like a real wand when you picked it up). Honeyduke's was a foregone conclusion, since Eustace didn't like sweets, and none of the other shops had much of anything, either. "Well, that's that," Emily said, sighing. "I'm fresh out of suggestions. We'll give you the money, Albus, and you can give it to Peter, all right?" Albus nodded, feeling defeated, even though this really wasn't that important. Maybe it was because of the realization that no one really knew anything about their fellow Gryffindor, even after five years of living with him and being in the same classes with him. It seemed wrong, somehow, but he didn't have any good ideas on how to fix that, either. It was a disappointing feeling.

Peter's trip to London on the 23^rd wasn't going to be for a week, and so the Gryffindors put Eustace's gift out of their minds. It wasn't too hard to forget about their roommate altogether; his Hufflepuff friends all went home over the holiday and so he stationed himself in a chair near the fire in the common room, and wrote from morning till night, only taking breaks for meals and when the house-elves brought up tea at four each afternoon. The rest of the Gryffindor boys spent a considerable amount of time outside the tower; snowball fights and ice skating on the lake (with the squid watching from a distance) and practicing Quidditch on the frosty, snow-coated pitch took up their days. They returned to the tower in time for tea, then spent the evenings playing Gobstones and chess. Albus and Isaac both tried to invite Eustace to join in on a chess game, but it never worked; the boy just smiled and said, "no, thank you, I'm all right," and then went back to writing. Even with hardly anyone staying for the holiday, he still charmed the pages; to Albus, they looked blank.

Each night they were ordered to bed by "often wrong" Ron, who for the most part stayed up in his room working on Head Boy matters. Albus had persuaded Ophelia to go and ask him for suggestions about a gift for Eustace, according to her, he looked up after half a minute, staring out of the window, muttered, "Why don't you just ask him already," and went back to reading.

"Really," she had told Albus and Isaac, "I don't think he even heard me. It's a wonder he made prefect in the first place." Then she'd stepped into the horseless carriage, where Emily, Sara, and Mary were already sitting, and then, they left for the Hogsmeade station.

The result of all of this was that on December 22^nd, Peter took the combined money from all nineteen Gryffindors (excluding Eustace), which amounted to fourteen Galleons, and promised he'd look for something nice in the Muggle shops Sara and Jane had identified. He wouldn't be returning from London until late on Christmas Eve, so he said he'd send a house-elf up to the boys' dormitory with the gift - and a note to Albus letting him know what exactly he'd chosen. The next morning, the real festivities began, with the arrival of ten thousand ice pixies and the portraits and suits of armor starting their annual chorus of carols and hymns, and all thought of Eustace's gift left their minds.

* * * * * *

Christmas morning dawned bright, cheerful, and very cold; a snowstorm had blown in overnight, filling the corridors with a chilling wind and frosting all the windows in Gryffindor tower. Albus spied the gifts piled at the foot of his bed, but of course, they wouldn't be opening those until after Christmas dinner. There was, he was pleased to see, a large box at the foot of Eustace's bed - Peter had come through for them. He found the note from his cousin, affixed to his headboard, and took it to read over breakfast.

When he got to the Great Hall, he found Ron Quirrelll alone at the Gryffindor table, eating his breakfast while attempting to read a very large book. Albus shook his head, and sighed - who studied on Christmas day? He walked over to the table, and sat across from Ron, pouring himself some tea and selecting a few choice sweet rolls for his plate. "So, Ron," he began, sipping at his tea and adding an extra lump of sugar, "how are you this morning?" The Head Boy blinked and sat his book down.

"Ah, Dumbledore," he said, taking a deep breath. "Sorry, I didn't notice you sitting there. How have things gone with your search for Eustace's gift?" Albus blinked - apparently Ron had been paying more attention than Ophelia had thought.

"Er, all right, I suppose," he said, after a moment's thought. "Peter went to London for us." Ron nodded vaguely.

"That's good... you went and spoke to him, then... glad you came to your senses," the Head Boy muttered, picking up his book again. Albus frowned. Came to his senses?

"Uhm, what was that," he asked, trying not to sound completely daft. But Ron was already absorbed in his book again (it looked like Essential Sixteenth Century Charms and Spells, a textbook for the Classical Charms class - thirty-eight chapters of incredibly boring and archaic charms for curdling cheese and freezing the flames of a fire you've been tossed into by witch hunters), and didn't answer. Albus shook his head, and decided to just focus on his breakfast.

The rest of the day passed swiftly, with enough food to feed three armies instead of the three dozen students who had remained behind (most were in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw). Albus waved at Peter, who was at the high table with the headmaster and other professors. Little Manassah Binns had even made a rare appearance, along with his mother; the boy could barely look over the table, he was so short. Peter waved back, before resuming his conversation with Mrs. Binns, whose father was a famous French alchemist.

Afterwards, and before Christmas tea, they were to return to the common room and open their gifts. The house elves had brought the gifts down to the common room and set them under a fir tree near the fireplace; Ron took his stack as soon as they entered the tower, and immediately departed for his own bedroom. That left the nine fifth-years, who all claimed their stacks right away and began unwrapping them.

Albus kept half an eye on Eustace as he opened his own gifts; it occurred to him that he hadn't read Peter's note yet, and had no idea what the other boy would be receiving from them. Next year, he told himself, we start working on Eustace's gift sooner than December fifth...

Albus had gotten the usual collection of sweets, and the standard number of books (thirteen - six from his roommates, two from his parents, and five from the girls in Gryffindor). He got another Sneakoscope from Jared (this one sang "God Save the Queen" every time it went off), a pair of reinforced dragonskin gloves from Alberforth (who had a real passion for magical creatures), and a photograph of Ophelia (from Sara and Emily - he decided to hide that in one of the books, before the other boys noticed it). There was also the requisite showing of clothing - two sweaters, a new set of dress robes, and a hat; Peter gave him a book about Muggle chemistry and a set of new crystal phials for Potions. Last was Eustace's gift - five sugar quills, two pairs of red woolen socks, and (to Albus' surprise) a large bag of Muggle sweets. "Thanks, Eustace," he said, and the other boy smiled.

Eustace himself had a number of gifts from his family; he was an only child, but apparently he had a lot of cousins and aunts and uncles. The ones Albus was able to identify included a book of Muggle myths and legends, the annual Royal Geographic Society book (which featured scientific articles), an album of Muggle war news and speeches, and what looked to be a blank journal. He also got a number of normal Muggle gifts - gloves, a hat, field glasses, a pocket knife, and a guide to knot-tying. Last was the gift from the Gryffindors, which the other boy unwrapped slowly and carefully. Albus was terribly curious to find out what was in the box, but tried not to show it. When Eustace pulled out a set of glass jars, a bottle of formaldehyde, a book on preservation techniques, a thin blank book, and a Muggle camera, Albus held his breath. Eustace smiled.

"Thanks, everyone, these are wonderful," he said sincerely, then packed up all his gifts (using the wooden crate that Peter had used to hold the presents from the Gryffindors), and left. The other boys seemed pretty pleased with the gift; it was definitely bigger than anything anyone had gotten, and Eustace had said it was wonderful. Still, something was bothering Albus, and he decided, after a few moments, to go and ask Eustace if he really had liked the gift. It wasn't particularly logical - after all, Eustace had said he liked it - but he decided to do it anyway. Especially since he hadn't actually spoken to the other boy in nearly two weeks.

He found Eustace carefully reorganizing the things on his shelves, presumably making room for the new gifts he had received. His back was turned, but he said "Why, hello again, Albus..." Albus blinked - that was a pretty good trick.

"How did you know it was me?" Eustace laughed - odd, Albus couldn't remember the other boy doing that before.

"Simple. The other boys run up the stairs, or stomp up the stairs... Isaac has a slight limp, or something - his steps are always uneven. The only sound you make is the swishing of your robes. It's a process of deduction - if there are nine other people in the tower, and eight of them make more noise than that, when I hear just the swish of robes, I know it has to be Albus." He turned, and grinned, picking up the camera and jar of formaldehyde before turning back to his bookshelves. "So, what can I do for you?" Albus frowned, wondering where to start. He picked up the journal and opened it, trying to think of something to say. He was surprised to find that it wasn't blank at all - it was filled up, written in a language he'd never seen before.

"Ah," he said after a moment, setting the book down, "I just wanted to come up and see if you liked your gift." Eustace turned, and frowned.

"Well, of course I liked it. You all obviously put a lot of thought into it - and I'd know that even if I didn't already know you hadn't been following me around for weeks, and quizzing the Hufflepuffs for ideas," he added, almost smiling again. Albus tried not to react - obviously, the others hadn't done a particularly good job of being stealthy.

"Ah, well," he said slowly, "we had... we didn't really know what to give you," he finished, wincing internally at how that sounded. Eustace laughed again, and shook his head.

"You know," the other boy said, putting the empty jars and the blank book Peter had bought up on the shelf, "you would have had a lot less trouble if you had just asked me." Albus blinked. "I mean, it isn't as though I expected you to know - or even to get me anything," Eustace said. "I know I'm not very close to anyone in Gryffindor."

"But," Albus said, "we always get each other something." Eustace shrugged. "And you always get us perfect gifts. Like those Muggle sweets," he added.

"Well," Eustace said, thinking for a moment, "I guess I just thought they'd work well for you. You all aren't exactly Slytherins, after all. You're not hard to figure out. At least, it's not hard to figure out what you'd like to receive as gifts. Sara, for instance, loves books. But her parents never give her any. She's come back after Christmas four times so far, complaining that they gave her embroidery thread or another dress. Ophelia's brothers try and treat her like a little doll; she never gets the Quidditch gear she wants. Your family doesn't think that sweets are important enough for a Christmas gift." Albus nodded - he was right, the other boy did listen to what they were saying.

"Anyway," Eustace continued, "I like figuring out good gifts for other people. My parents give me everything I need, and I don't care for sweets, so I have a lot of time and money and not much to spend either on, than this sort of thing. I'm not really a conversationalist," he added ruefully. Albus shook his head.

"You've been having a perfectly decent conversation with me for the last ten minutes," he said reasonably. "Why don't you chime in when we're all in a group?" Eustace shrugged.

"I'm not very good at keeping up... and well, you all get along so well. You don't need me," he said. "The Hufflepuffs wanted me around, and we got along well in Herbology. No one in Gryffindor said anything to me in particular that whole first week of school; there were two Hufflepuffs, in Herbology, who talked to me within the first five minutes of class."

"There were eighteen of us," Albus protested. "You had to fight to get attention, all of us did at first." Eustace shook his head.

"I'm not interested in fighting for that sort of thing... I'd rather spend my time with my books and poetry," he said simply. Albus frowned.

"Is that what's in that book?" Eustace looked confused, and Albus picked up the journal with strange writing in it.

"Oh, that," Eustace said, laughing. "That's a sort of private joke. My cousin Lucy and I have a made-up language. We used to spend hours working on it, our mothers are good friends and lived a few doors apart from one another until I was ten. Lucy and her parents moved to Amsterdam, and so when I got my letter for Hogwarts, she got one for Beauxbatons. We were best friends."

"Oh," Albus said, frowning. That must not have been pleasant - two Muggle-born wizards in one family, having to split up because of silly geographical boundaries. Eustace nodded.

"Yes. We still spend a few weeks together each summer, but well, I can't Apparate yet, which means we have to wait for our parents to arrange things. We send each other letters, of course. That," he said, indicating the book on his bed, "is a story she's been writing in our nameless language. It's taken her years. She gets excellent marks in her language classes, Ancient Runes and the like. She's even developed her own poetry style; the stuff she writes is untranslatable, you can only understand it in the original. I've tried translating it, but it just doesn't sound right." Albus was surprised.

"Is that what you spend your time writing?" He nodded.

"That's a lot of it. I write shorter things, myself, and I like writing in English and French as well. There's even a bit of Latin and Greek in my notebooks, when I feel like a real challenge. The Ravenclaws found some of my attempts at translating Lucy's early poems, back in first year. Pages and pages of poorly translated stuff. They tormented me for weeks. That was, until I got Professor Richens to teach me the charms to make all the pages look blank. He's the only Ravenclaw professor who doesn't side with them." Albus nodded; everyone liked the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. There were a few minutes of silence, while Eustace finished putting away his gifts, and Albus thought. Finally, he spoke again.

"So... what did you want for Christmas?" Eustace turned, with one eyebrow raised.

"You really want to know?" Albus nodded; if nothing else, now he was curious.

"Well," Eustace said slowly, thinking, "what I'd really have liked, is a chance to see Lucy. Or talk to her. Sometime before next August, I mean. Meet her friends, see what her school is like. She's drawn me some pictures, but... well, it's not the same." Albus nodded. "Some thoughts for next year, eh," Eustace said after a moment, grinning. "After all the effort you expended on this gift, bringing my cousin to Hogwarts will be as easy as conjuring red sparks." Albus smiled.

"I'm going back down to start in on those sweets. Want to join me, Eustace?" The other boy shook his head.

"No, thank you... I'll be down in a while. I just want to get started on this story," he said, gesturing at the book on the bed. Albus nodded.

"All right, then. See you at tea." Eustace nodded. As Albus left the room (making note of the sound his robes made, swishing almost silently), he was secretly glad that Eustace had decided to stay up in the dorm. He needed time with the other seven boys in their year. Time to plan.

* * * * *

Everyone was looking forward to Easter break, though it included an awful lot of homework for the fifth years (still preparing for those tests). Albus, in particular, was excited - more so than his co-conspirators, who included almost every Gryffindor fifth-year, several fourth-years, Ron Quirrell, the Head Girl, Peter, Professor Binns, and even, in a way, the Headmaster himself. In some ways, what he had planned was even harder than actually bringing a visitor to Hogwarts; it had required a number of signatures and approvals, and a bit more funding, to boot. Thankfully, Jacob had gotten two cameras from different people this year, so that sacrifice, at least, wasn't painful. Albus had had to ration his supply of sweets, because all his spending money for the winter term was tied up in other things.

The most difficult thing had been identifying Lucy; her last name wasn't the same as Eustace's, because her mother was Eustace's father's sister. Luckily, there was a shortage of fifteen-year-old British girls named Lucy at Beauxbatons; and there was only one who had excellent marks in Ancient Runes (Professor Binns' wife, thankfully, was good friends with the Ancient Runes instructor at the French school). Once identified, the girl agreed to the plan quickly, proclaiming it in a letter to Ophelia as "a marvelous idea; one I should have come up with myself."

At last, the night before the train went to London (as usual, most people, this time including almost all the boys in Albus' class, were going home), everything was prepared. Only Albus, Emily, Isaac, Eustace, and Ophelia were staying behind in their year; Ron Quirrell had suddenly acquired a Hufflepuff companion, a sixth-year named Lydia, and was staying as well. It was like an echo of last Christmas, which was perfect so far as Albus was concerned (though he was pleased with the warmth and flowers, which had replaced the snow almost a month earlier), if only for the aesthetic purity of the situation. If you were giving someone a belated Christmas present, it ought to feel like Christmas when you do so.

They decided to hand over the gift after curfew that Saturday, in the deserted common room (Ron had excused himself and headed for the prefects' lounge, presumably to meet Lydia there, right after dinner). Albus had absolutely vetoed any suggestion of staying behind to spy on their classmate; they'd have to hear about it afterwards, he had declared. Anyway, Lucy would probably see them, he had reasoned.

So it was that, at nine fifteen on Saturday night, Eustace found himself being handed a small chest (it contained about sixty-five photographs, a note from the Headmaster, and three and a half pounds of glittering powder), and was given the instructions from Albus and Ophelia to sit in front of the Gryffindor fireplace and wait until 9:30. He had nodded, bewildered, and sat where they told them to. Albus stayed just inside the spiral staircase, long enough to hear the sudden roar of the flames and a tentative female voice saying, "Eustace? You there?"