Christmas Spirit

Chapter Three

Just a reminder that this story has no definitive plot or so, I'm just prancing around.

Please share your thoughts by reviewing...

...

Chapter Three

Mr. Granger had a similar reaction to his and Hermione's kitchen endeavours, though he was less worried about the amount of sugar that was on it than his wife, despite their shared profession.

He'd also been particularly delighted for dinner, as he'd expressed as they sat down to eat at the dining table, how much he enjoyed dishes like those.

Harry rose the day after his first day at the Granger's residence with a small smile on his face. It was one of his better mornings waking up and better nights of sleep ever since the third task, and he could really get used to it.

He had awoken earlier than he had the day before, with no particular reason in mind as he comfortably refreshed himself before heading down the stairs. Only Mrs. Granger – Jean - and her husband Richard were there, huddled over cups of coffee as they stared at the newspaper in front of them.

Their brief, uninterrupted conversation as they remained temporarily unknowing of his presence made him frown as he stopped short right after exiting the door.

"12 new missing cases - 12?" Jean sounded, worriedly, eyeing the paper with wide eyes.

"And in only a matter of hours," pressed Richard. "Unexplainable, so far unfound, I did some more research on what the Local Times had on the matter as opposed to the London Times, and there isn't much difference," he explained, taking a large sip of his coffee, "though both of them are fancying the idea that the government's hiding something, I personally think they're right to think that."

His mother sent him a fleeting glance and a short smile of adoration, "you would, dear," she said fondly, "I can still remember how long you spent watching those conspiracy movies when you first found a fancy in them."

Richard raised an eyebrow, "of course you remember – we're not that bloody old."

"Anyway," rolled Mrs. Granger's eyes, a frown resettling on her face, "12 in a few hours, that's preposterous!"

"I can see that you're worried about it affecting here, Jean," said Richard knowingly after a brief silence, "but most of these cases have been in either very secluded areas or very populated areas where people could just disappear either just like that without anyone knowing in a huge crowd."

Jean pursed her lips thoughtfully but said nothing, only nodding in agreement. She suddenly sighed, turning back the kitchen counter and shook her head, "Anyway–"

Silently, Harry tuned out the conversation as he lost himself to thoughts. Voldemort was clearly making moves, as small as it was compared to how he'd done it in the past – he was still making a move and Harry felt his stomach churn uncomfortably as a grimace played at his lips.

Richard though had taken a gulp of his coffee, but by doing so, he'd glanced up, straight to Harry who was mindlessly staring at the newspaper on the counter. "Oh! Good morning, Harry!"

Harry snapped out of his thoughts immediately, a startled gasp leaving his lips as he turned to Richard, nervously chuckling. "Er – uh – good morning, Richard – Jean." He said, but his voice was hoarse slightly.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Sounded Jean, she was slowly walking up to him, eyes concerned. He took an internal breath, trying to steel himself from his racing thoughts.

"Just fine," he reassured, though he cringed internally at how unbelieving he himself thought it sounded. If Jean and Richard had thought the same, they didn't voice it, not with their lips at least for their eyes were still telling, as Jean led him to the counter.