Meanwhile, in the rest of the castle, the magnificent Christmas decorations had been put up, despite the fact that hardly any of the students remained to enjoy them. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe were strung along the corridors, mysterious lights shone from inside every suit of armor, and the Great Hall was filled with its usual twelve Christmas trees, glittering with golden stars. A powerful and delicious smell of cooking pervaded the corridors, and by Christmas Eve, it had grown so strong that even Scabbers poked his nose out of the shelter of Ron's pocket to sniff hopefully at the air.
On Christmas, I woke up excitedly. Hermione and I had the entire dorm to ourselves so we could spread out our presents as we opened them. She told me that after opening presents she usually went to hang out with Harry and Ron, which I was completely fine with.
Hermione adored the bookmarks and Sugar Quills I got her. She'd given me a pair of glasses that had a spell that helped with dyslexia. I put them on and, after testing the glasses out on a page in one of my textbooks, squealed and gave Hermione a huge hug. "Thank you thank you thank you!"
Hermione laughed. "You're welcome. I saw those and I thought they'd really help. They were the last pair, too, it was lucky I found them."
"Now my gift seems... kind of lackluster."
"It's not!" Hermione assured me. "These are going to be a big help."
We continued opening the presents. I got a mixed pack of Chocolate Frogs and Peppermint Toads from Ron and a Holyhead Harpies sweater from Harry. Chiron had sent a Christmas card with the signatures of all my siblings from Cabin Seven.
I also found a lumpy package, but I didn't know who it was from.
"Oh!" Hermione said when she saw it. "Ron'll be delighted."
"It's from him?" I asked, and opened it, taking out a red sweater with a golden A. "I didn't know Ron had taken up knitting."
"It's from his mum," Hermione laughed. "Harry and I have been getting them since first year, too. They're Weasley family sweaters. It looks like you've just become an honorary member of the family."
I put it on over my pajamas and instantly loved how warm it was. "I like being an honorary Weasley."
"Don't we all," Hermione agreed. She picked up a string of tinsel and tied it around Crookshanks' neck while he protested. "There! Doesn't he look festive?"
I laughed. "Hang on, let me try. which color ribbon do you think looks best with Jab's fur?"
We ended up choosing red to match my Weasley sweater.
"Tomatoes," Jab muttered grumpily and tried to paw the ribbon off but was unsuccessful. "Tomatoes and cherries."
Hermione and I giggled at his antics and hurried up to the boys' dorm. We found the two of them talking.
"What're you two laughing about?" Hermione asked as we entered, holding our festive-looking pets. Both boys looked up.
"Ash, you got a Weasley sweater!" Ron noticed, grinning. Then he raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What's with the glasses?"
I'd forgotten I still had them on. "My gift from Hermione. Now I don't have to take that nasty dyslexia potion anymore!"
"And Harry's not the only four-eyes in our friend group!" Ron said as enthusiastically as I had, earning an indignant elbow in the ribs from the said Four-Eyes. Crookshanks let out an grumpy meow, grabbing Ron's attention. He also saw Jab in my arms and groaned.
"Don't bring them in here!" said Ron, hurriedly snatching Scabbers from the depths of his bed and stowing him in his pajama pocket. But Hermione wasn't listening. She dropped Crookshanks onto Seamus's empty bed and stared, open-mouthed, at a broom in Harry's lap.
I gaped, too. "No way! Who sent you that?"
"No idea," said Harry. "There wasn't a card or anything with it."
I frowned. "Nothing on the wrapping, either?"
"No."
Hermione's face fell, and she bit her lip.
"What's the matter with you?" said Ron.
"I don't know," said Hermione slowly, "but it's a bit odd, isn't it? I mean, this is supposed to be quite a good broom, isn't it?" Ron sighed exasperatedly.
"It's the best broom there is, Hermione," he said.
"So it must've been really expensive..."
"Probably cost more than all the Slytherins' brooms put together," said Ron happily.
"Well... who'd send Harry something as expensive as that, and not even tell him they'd sent it?" said Hermione.
I frowned. "That's a good point."
"Who cares?" said Ron impatiently. "Listen, Harry, can I have a go on it? Can I?"
"I don't think anyone should ride that broom just yet!" said Hermione shrilly.
Harry and Ron stared at her.
"What d'you think Harry's going to do with it — sweep the floor?" said Ron.
But before Hermione could answer, Crookshanks sprang from Seamus's bed, right at Ron's chest.
"GET — HIM — OUT — OF — HERE!" Ron bellowed as Crookshanks's claws ripped his pajamas and Scabbers attempted a wild escape over his shoulder. Jab joined the fray, scrambling out of my arms and screaming at Scabbers from the ground behind Ron. Ron seized Scabbers by the tail and aimed a misjudged kick at Crookshanks that hit the trunk at the end of Harry's bed, knocking it over and causing Ron to hop up and down, howling with pain. Jab shouted about "bed rats" as I ran past Ron and scooped him up.
Crookshanks's fur suddenly stood on end. A shrill, tinny, whistling was filling the room. The Pocket Sneakoscope had become dislodged from a pair of old socks and was whirling and gleaming on the floor.
"I forgot about that!" Harry said, bending down and picking up the Sneakoscope. "I never wear those socks if I can help it..."
The Sneakoscope whirled and whistled in his palm. Crookshanks was hissing and spitting at it.
"You'd better take those animals out of here," said Ron furiously, sitting on Harry's bed nursing his toe. "Can't you shut that thing up?" he added to Harry as Hermione and I strode out of the room, Crookshanks's yellow eyes still fixed maliciously on Ron.
"Honestly," Hermione muttered when we got back to our dorm. "He acts like Jab and Crookshanks are evil! It's natural for cats to chase rats!"
"And the Menagerie lady said that rats are part of a Jarvey's diet!" I agreed.
"He's always muttering about how boring and useless Scabbers is," Hermione said. "Why's he getting all worked up about him now?"
"Probably because he's not the only one with a pet that's constantly around anymore," I suggested. "I mean, Harry has Hedwig, but she only really comes around to deliver mail to him."
Hermione stroked Crookshanks' head. The cat jumped down from Hermione's lap and went to stand by the door like he wanted to be let out.
"No, Crookshanks," Hermione said tiredly. "We can't have Ron trying to kick you again."
Hermione looked frustrated. There was a long silence. I knew she was still upset about it, but I wanted to make sure she had a good Christmas.
"I think I've got something that'll make Crookshanks feel better," I said. "I can't believe I even forgot to wrap it! Here, Crookshanks."
I'd seen a toy mouse in the magical pet store in Hogsmeade that was charmed to run around an enclosed space until it was caught. I figured Ron would appreciate it if Crookshanks started chasing that instead of Scabbers. I set the mouse down. Crookshanks stared at it with hungry eyes. I tapped the mouse with my wand and it began to scurry around the floor. Crookshanks gave a delighted yowl and raced after the mouse, scattering the pile of wrapping paper that Hermione and I had made after opening our presents.
"Sorry," I said.
"It's fine," Hermione responded, watching Crookshanks chase his prey with an amused expression. Jab watched, too, then barked, "Bed rat!" and dashed after it along with Crookshanks.
Hermione and I laughed at the two of them running around after the mouse.
I went and got dressed after five minutes of watching the two mammals continue the chase. I'd gotten a bit bored of it, but Hermione was still completely absorbed in the activity. I kept the Weasley sweater on because it was so warm and decided to leave the glasses on and ask Hermione if she wanted to read in the Common Room for a while.
Hermione accepted and we each grabbed a book and headed downstairs.
Harry and Ron came down after a bit. Ron and Hermione wouldn't speak to each other. Harry tried to make conversation and get them to join in, and I tried to help, but they both seemed determined to never speak to each other again. We both gave up. I went back to my book and Harry examined his new Firebolt in his lap, which did nothing to improve Hermione's mood.
At lunchtime we went down to the Great Hall. Ron kept his distance from Hermione on the way down and spoke only with Harry.
I spoke with Hermione, trying to cheer her up. Still, a question tickled the back of my mind, and I decided to voice it.
"Hermione, who do you think sent that broom?" I asked quietly so that Harry and Ron couldn't hear. Hermione frowned.
"That's the thing," she whispered. "I'm worried it might have been... Sirius Black."
"Really?" I asked. "What makes you think that?"
"Well, in our first year, Quirrel -- "
"The professor with You-Know-Who on the back of his head?" I interrupted.
"Yes, him. He cursed Harry's broom during a Quidditch match to try and throw him off. I'm worried that if Sirius Black sent the Firebolt..."
"He might try the same thing?" I asked. Hermione nodded.
I'd had a sinking feeling about the broom. What if Hermione was right? What if Harry got on that broom for Quidditch practice and it threw him off, or cursed him, or just randomly broke and sent him falling to the ground? And even worse... what if all that happened, and I could've prevented it but didn't? Then anything that happened to him would be my fault.
"We have to tell someone," I decided.
Hermione looked at me, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "You think so?"
"Yes," I said. "We should tell McGonagall or someone so they can at least check the broom and make sure it's safe. I don't know what I'd do if Harry got hurt because of that broom."
Hermione stared at me. it made me nervous.
"What is it?" I asked.
"It's just really nice to have someone who thinks along the same lines as I do and actually worries about these kinds of things," She said. "Let's tell McGonagall after Christmas Dinner."
I nodded.
We entered the Great Hall to find that the House tables had been moved against the walls again, and that a single table, set for twelve, stood in the middle of the room. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick were there, along with Filch, the caretaker, who had taken off his usual brown coat and was wearing a very old and rather moldy-looking tailcoat. There were only three other students, two extremely nervous-looking first years and a sullen-faced Slytherin fifth year.
"Merry Christmas!" said Dumbledore as we approached the table. "As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the House tables... Sit down, sit down!"
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I sat down side by side at the end of the table.
"Crackers!" said Dumbledore enthusiastically, offering the end of a large silver noisemaker to Snape, who took it reluctantly and tugged. With a bang like a gunshot, the cracker flew apart to reveal a large, pointed witch's hat topped with a stuffed vulture.
I let out a snort, remembering the Boggart, and tried to cover it up with a cough. I glanced over at Harry, who was trying unsuccessfully to hold back a grin himself.
Snape's mouth thinned and he pushed the hat toward Dumbledore, who swapped it for his wizard's hat at once.
"Dig in!" he advised the table, beaming around. As I was helping myself to the delicious, steaming, honey-glazed ham, the doors of the Great Hall opened again. It was Professor Trelawney, gliding toward them as though on wheels. She had put on a green sequined dress in honor of the occasion, making her look more than ever like a glittering, oversized dragonfly.
"Sybill, this is a pleasant surprise!" said Dumbledore, standing up.
"I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster," said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest, most faraway voice, "and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness..."
"Certainly, certainly," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "Let me draw you up a chair..."
He actually drew a chair in midair with his wand, which revolved for a few seconds before falling with a thud between Snape and McGonagall. Professor Trelawney, however, did not sit down. She suddenly uttered a kind of soft scream.
"I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!"
I resisted the urge to scoff. I knew my father would've called Trelawney's concerns "silly Mortal superstitions." I would've agreed with him.
"We'll risk it, Sybill," said Professor McGonagall impatiently. "Do sit down, the turkey's getting stone cold."
Professor Trelawney hesitated, then lowered herself into the empty chair, eyes shut and mouth clenched tight, as though expecting a thunderbolt to hit the table. Professor McGonagall poked a large spoon into the nearest tureen.
"Tripe, Sybill?"
Professor Trelawney ignored her. Eyes open again, she looked around once more and said, "But where is dear Professor Lupin?"
"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," said Dumbledore, indicating that everybody should start serving themselves. "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day."
"But surely you already knew that, Sybill?" said Professor McGonagall, her eyebrows raised. I smirked. If Trelawney really was a Seer, she should've known that Lupin wouldn't be there.
Professor Trelawney gave Professor McGonagall a very cold look.
"Certainly I knew, Minerva," she said quietly. "But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous."
I rolled my eyes as I stuffed a forkful of ham into my mouth.
"That explains a great deal," said Professor McGonagall tartly.
Professor Trelawney's voice suddenly became a good deal less misty. "If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him —"
"Imagine that," said Professor McGonagall dryly. I glanced over at Hermione and exchanged a knowing smirk with her. It was obvious we were both enjoying Trelawney's struggle.
"I doubt," said Dumbledore, in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, which put an end to Professor McGonagall and Professor Trelawney's conversation, "that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?"
"Yes, Headmaster," said Snape.
"Good," said Dumbledore. "Then he should be up and about in no time... Derek, have you had any of the chipolatas? They're excellent." The first-year boy went furiously red on being addressed directly by Dumbledore, and took the platter of sausages with trembling hands.
Professor Trelawney behaved almost normally until the very end of Christmas dinner, two hours later. Full to bursting with Christmas dinner and still wearing their cracker hats, Harry and Ron got up first from the table and she shrieked loudly.
"My dears! Which of you left his seat first? Which?"
"Dunno," said Ron, looking uneasily at Harry.
"I doubt it will make much difference," said Professor McGonagall coldly, "unless a mad axeman is waiting outside the doors to slaughter the first into the Entrance Hall."
Even Ron laughed. Professor Trelawney looked highly affronted.
"Coming?" Harry said to Hermione and I.
"No," Hermione muttered. "Aisling and I want a quick word with Professor McGonagall."
Harry frowned slightly in surprise but shrugged and followed Ron to an axeman-less Entrance Hall. As the teachers cleared out, Hermione called after McGonagall. The Gryffindor head of House turned.
"Professor, we need to tell you something," I said. "So, Harry got a Firebolt for Christmas--"
"A Firebolt?" McGonagall repeated, brightening. There was a glimmer of hope in her eye. "I apologize, Miss McKeon. Go on."
"We were really excited," Hermione said, "But Harry says it didn't come with a card or any sign of who sent it."
McGonagall's expression darkened. "No note or anything?"
"None." I nodded. "And... well, we're worried, because Hermione and I -- she was telling me about Professor Quirrell and how he jinxed Harry's broom, and we wondered--"
"Professor, what if Sirius Black sent it?" Hermione burst out, looking extremely worried.
"We wanted to tell you, just in case he did, so you could check it for curses or anything that might hurt Harry," I said. "I mean, we really want to win the Quidditch Cup, but if Harry gets hurt in the process, it won't be worth it!"
"I agree completely with you, Miss McKeon and Miss Granger," McGonagall said grimly. "I will take a look at it, and have Professor Flitwick and Madame Hooch do the same. Where is the broom now?"
"Probably in Harry and Ron's dorm," Hermione said. "But they were talking about having a go on it later."
When we got to Sir Cadogan's portrait, it became obvious that he'd been celebrating, too.
"Merry -- hic! -- Christmas! Password?"
"Scurvy cur," I said, rolling my eyes.
"And the same to you, Miss!" He said, then laughed uncontrollably as he swung forward.
I glanced at Hermione, who looked extremely nervous.
"Let's just go and read when we get in there," I said softly. "Let Professor McGonagall do her job."
She nodded and we climbed through. When we got into the Common Room, we saw Harry and Ron, both holding the Firebolt. Hermione and I walked around them, sat down, picked up the nearest books and began to read.
"So that's it, is it?" I heard Professor McGonagall ask. "Miss Granger and Miss McKeon have just informed me that you have been sent a broomstick, Potter."
I could feel the stares of Ron and Harry and pretended to be completely engrossed in the book I'd grabbed, a boring volume about the Goblin Rebellion.
"May I?" said Professor McGonagall. There was a long pause, and I risked a glance and saw her examining the broom. "Hmm. And there was no note at all, Potter? No card? No message of any kind?"
"No," said Harry blankly.
"I see..." said Professor McGonagall. "Well, I'm afraid I will have to take this, Potter."
"W — what?" said Harry. "Why?"
"It will need to be checked for jinxes," said Professor McGonagall. "Of course, I'm no expert, but I daresay Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick will strip it down —"
"Strip it down?" repeated Ron, as though Professor McGonagall was mad.
"It shouldn't take more than a few weeks," said Professor McGonagall. "You will have it back if we are sure it is jinx-free."
"There's nothing wrong with it!" said Harry, his voice shaking slightly. The concern in his voice made me feel bad for telling McGonagall, but it had to be done, or Harry could've gotten jinxed or worse. "Honestly, Professor —"
"You can't know that, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, "not until you've flown it, at any rate, and I'm afraid that is out of the question until we are certain that it has not been tampered with. I shall keep you informed."
Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and carried the Firebolt out of the portrait hole, which closed behind her. Harry stood staring after her, a tin of High-Finish Broom Polish clutched in his hands. Ron, however, rounded on Hermione.
"What did you go running to McGonagall for?"
Hermione shrank back a bit, and I threw my book aside and stood to face him.
"Don't talk to her like that!" I snapped. "And if it matters that much who told McGonagall, it was me!"
Ron and Harry stared at me, completely shocked.
"Why would you do that?" Harry asked, sounding hurt. Hermione stood next to me.
"Because we thought — and Professor McGonagall agrees with us — that that broom was probably sent to Harry by Sirius Black!"
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~~~~Alcyone~~~~