A Hogwarts Christmas

“It is funny how often the thing we seek most can be so conveniently hidden right before our very eyes. But is it truly hidden, or do we choose not to see it?”

General (ret) Jigme Dorji Wengshuk

As always, there was at least one blemish on whatever happiness Harriet felt. This time, because of Slytherin's loss at Harriet's hands, Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, and Pixie Fanfarró were nastier than ever.

“You know, Potter, the idea is to catch the Snitch. Tactics like that, I think, are better reserved for a brothel than the Quidditch pitch,” Draco drawled at her the day after the match when she passed him in the corridor.

Harriet felt her face go bright red as Crabbe and Goyle guffawed, and Pansy Parkinson and Pixie Fanfarró both cackled taunts after her. Usually, Malfoy and his cronies were content to leave insults at that and move on to a new subject.

“Look out everyone,” cried Pansy Parkinson as Harriet walked into the Great Hall for dinner that night, “here comes Harlot Potter, the girl who loved the Snitch too much!”

“Careful, everyone hide your Snitches, she just can't help herself!” shrieked Pixie Fanfarró with glee.

Harriet watched all the faces in the Great Hall turn towards her. Despite the size of the hall, Harriet began to feel claustrophobic. Before she could even think, she ran from the room, ignoring the calls of her friends. She felt tears burning in her eyes as she ran. She only looked up when she turned a corner and hit something. She bounced back a couple of steps and found herself looking up into the aged face of the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

“Well now, what are these tears?” he asked, leaning down to look at her more closely.

Despite his age, there was a sense of immense power and life within Professor Dumbledore; particularly in his eyes, which were the brightest blue Harriet had ever seen. They took her in with such intelligence that they seemed to be looking straight through her like he could read her every thought as he looked into her eyes.

Harriet found she couldn't answer and merely hung her head, holding back sobs. She was sick of it: sick of being taunted every time she stepped out in public, and sick of the fact that those jeering voices immediately tainted everything she should feel proud of. She'd thought coming here would be a break from all of that.

Harriet looked up at the Headmaster again, about to respond and tell him all she'd been feeling when the sound of pattering feet came up from behind her. Harriet turned to see Hermione, Ronnie, and, of all people, Neville, finally catch up with her. Neville seemed distinctly winded from the running.

“Harriet, are you alright?” Hermione asked, her expression was somewhat pained.

“Yeah, I'm…” Harriet started to respond but trailed off, seeing the somewhat awestruck faces of her three friends as they looked up at the Headmaster. Harriet felt his hand rest gently on her shoulder.

“My, my, what loyal friends you have, Miss Potter. You are lucky to have them, as I'm sure you know. However, if you three would not mind, I would like a mere moment with Miss Potter here, as sometimes even when we need our friends, an outside party to our pains is the best medicine,” Dumbledore said.

His voice was profound and calming, and somehow, just hearing it, Harriet started to feel a little better. Hermione, Ronnie and Neville all looked at each other before they all looked back up at Professor Dumbledore and slowly nodded in agreement. Professor Dumbledore smiled at them.

“Good. I assure you I shall return Miss Potter in full health: emotionally, physically, and in all other respects as well,” Professor Dumbledore said and slowly turned Harriet away.

“I'm… I'm sorry sir…” Harriet muttered under her breath, starting to feel like she'd been apologising to people quite a lot lately.

“For what, might I ask? You have no reason to be sorry to me, nor to anyone. You know you have truly done nothing wrong, I am sure,” Professor Dumbledore said in his calm, soothing voice.

Harriet nodded and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I just… I don't know… I feel like I have to… all the time…”

Professor Dumbledore nodded solemnly. “You are a good person who has had dark things thrust upon you. It's easy for people in your predicament to feel they must have done something wrong to deserve it, and so we apologise—unnecessarily—thinking it will assuage our feelings. However, more often than not, it simply makes it easier for us to feel even guiltier later on for that which we should not feel the slightest sorry for.”

Harriet nodded looking up at Professor Dumbledore as they strode along.

“So, do not apologise for what you do not have to, Harriet. You will feel yourself become a stronger person for it. Carry your head high, and keep marching through the storm. You have done it most of your life, I know, but now you are in a new place, and you have to adjust all over again. You will get there in time, Harriet, rest assured.”

Harriet felt her mood brightening more as she kept watching the Headmaster. She felt safe beside him, like nothing in the world could ever cause her harm with Professor Dumbledore there. She realised then how silly she had been, letting those taunts of Malfoy, Parkinson and Fanfarró hurt her like that.

No one else had laughed at her. Last night in the Gryffindor common room everyone had praised her for what she'd done; seeing the Snitch and chasing it so well even after nearly being killed by her broomstick. Wood had tears in his eyes because of how happy he was that Harriet had led them to their first victory over Slytherin in so long.

Yes, she had been very silly letting those taunts get to her. She was a good Seeker, a great Seeker in spite of her age. She looked back up at Professor Dumbledore again and smiled.

Professor Dumbledore smiled back and patted Harriet on the shoulder again. “Now then, Miss Potter, I suggest you return to your friends here, who have been waiting so patiently for you and enjoy a nice dinner to give you a good full stomach before you get a full night's sleep. It does not do one well to dwell over-long on the pains of our lives or in matters for which we have little need to concern ourselves.”

At these last words, Harriet looked up at Professor Dumbledore and found his piercing blue eyes looking right back into hers again. His previous statement had been rather odd and out of place, almost like a warning. Did he know she knew about Flamel? Or about someone trying to steal whatever it was Hagrid had taken from Gringotts?

Harriet turned again as she thought to look where they were going and realised that they had returned right to where Hermione, Ronnie and Neville had first caught up with them. They were all smiling at her now, seeing how much happier she looked.

Professor Dumbledore smiled at them all warmly. “Please escort Miss Potter back to the Great Hall, where she will assuredly be a much happier dinner companion. Take care all of you,” Professor Dumbledore said and turned and strode away from them, down the corridor.

Harriet watched him before turning back to her friends. Her first impulse was to apologise, but remembering Professor Dumbledore's words, she refrained and merely said:

“Don't worry, I'm fine now, I promise.”

Her friends just smiled and nodded, before Ronnie and Hermione each looped an arm around hers, and they started towards the Great Hall.

“You should have seen it… it was bizarre,” Ronnie was saying, looking at Harriet with wide and amazed eyes. “I've never seen anyone yell like that before…”

“Really? I bet Professor McGonagall was furious,” Harriet said, imagining the sight of her head of house berating the two Slytherin girls.

“No, it wasn't McGonagall!” Ronnie exclaimed and leaned in, looking at Harriet significantly. “Though she did get out of her chair and was about to start over there to yell at them, no mistake… but no, it was Snape!”

“Professor Snape?!” Harriet asked in astonishment, much louder than she'd intended, startling the pudgy Hufflepuff ghost, The Fat Friar, who was floating by, sending him tumbling through a wall.

“Yeah! He looked ruddy livid with them! It was scary! He gave them both detention!” Ronnie went on, Hermione and Neville nodding in agreement.

Harriet bit her lip in thought. His actions seemed to help rule Professor Snape out as a suspect, but what if it was an act? What if he was now pretending to be kind to Harriet so that people wouldn't be so suspicious of him?

Despite Ronnie and Hermione's suspicions about Professor Snape, and even after his apparent outburst at Parkinson and Fanfarró, he seemed to continue to pay Harriet no mind following the first Quidditch match. He did look, perhaps, slightly surlier towards Gryffindor students on the whole, but as ever, Harriet continued to be a complete non-entity to him. Despite her initial anxiety, Harriet was finding Snape's actions to be less bothersome now, as well as finding her interest in Potions waning, which was starting to hurt her marks in the class.

Aside from Ronnie and Hermione, and to a lesser extent Harriet, nobody else in the group seemed suspicious about Professor Snape in the least. But then, none of them had seen what Hermione had seen through the binoculars, and they had all been so focused on watching Harriet it seemed that they didn't even notice Hermione running over to set Professor Snape on fire either. They were all even more impressed by Professor Snape's telling off of Harriet's two least favourite Slytherin girls. As a result, Harriet, Ronnie and Hermione kept all of their suspicions to themselves during rest of the fall term.

As the Christmas season approached, and all the cheerfulness and excitement brought on by the thought of snow and home, Harriet found it difficult in the remaining weeks to be all that worried about any of these suspicions about Snape and his possible attempts at thievery. What she was worried about, however, was finding out who Nicolas Flamel was.

Hermione, Ronnie and Harriet had decided not to ask their friends about this little issue, due to the secrecy surrounding whatever it was Fluffy was guarding. They were keeping Flamel a secret not so much because they did not trust their friends to stay quiet, but rather because there was more at stake than just the object being guarded in the third-floor corridor. There was also the fact that if anyone found out that Hagrid had told them about the stone, there was the possibility it would get Hagrid in trouble, which was the last thing any of the three wanted.

Harriet wasn't sure what was driving her obsession with finding out about Flamel. She still could swear she had heard the name Flamel before. As they searched, Harriet couldn't help but remember something Professor Dumbledore had said to her in passing: “It does not do one well to dwell over-long on the pains of our lives or in matters for which we have little need to concern ourselves.”

She still didn't know if it had been a warning or not, and if it was, what was it a warning about? Was it about Snape, or Flamel, or even both?

Because of this, the three tried to keep their searches for Flamel a secret, not even daring to ask Madame Pince, the chief librarian, about him, though they were sure she would know where they could find the information they wanted. They didn't want to risk Dumbledore finding out what they were up to.

It seemed that Ronnie and Hermione were just as obsessed with finding Flamel as Harriet was. However, their determination came from wanting to keep Professor Snape from stealing whatever it was that Fluffy was guarding. Harriet still felt uneasy about putting all that blame on Professor Snape, but she didn't want to question her closest friends' judgement either.

Almost all of their free time, in the weeks following the first match, was devoted to the library. They looked through every single book they could think of that dealt with modern magical discoveries and through every recent cutting of the Daily Prophet they could find but found Flamel nowhere. Hermione was beginning to get exasperated as well, as so far the library had never let her down when she needed to find something.

However, Harriet soon felt herself losing interest in finding Flamel. There was just too much happiness in the air. Indeed, her only slight worry right now was her broomstick, which was being inspected by Madame Hooch and Professor Flitwick. Would they confiscate it, should they find it had been sabotaged?

By early December, it had finally started snowing. Harriet had never had friends to play in the snow with before, and she found it quite enjoyable. Fred and George seemed to be in their element in the snow and could hit someone in the head with a hand-thrown snowball from twenty paces.

Harriet had to admit, for two boys coming from a wizarding family, Fred and George seemed oddly good at doing things without magic. According to Ronnie, it was because of how they weren't allowed to do magic outside school. Fred and George seemed to have taken solemn vows to carry on creating their mischief whether they could use magic or not.

One day, just before the winter holidays, Professor McGonagall had gone around the Gryffindor table, taking down the names of Gryffindor students who would be staying for the Christmas holidays. Harriet had signed her name down excitedly and was even more excited when Ronnie, Fred and George also wrote their names. Ronnie explained how their parents were going to Romania to visit Charlie.

Harriet was beside herself with excitement to be staying at Hogwarts. She was going to spend Christmas away from the Dursleys, and she was going to spend it with her best friend without Draco, Parkinson and Fanfarró. She knew that those three would be gone from of one of Malfoy's indirect taunts he would give in Potions when he wanted to wound without directly attacking someone.

“It must be so sad for the students who have to stay here for Christmas… not having any family at home who want them around…” Draco said, his eyes sparkling maliciously at Harriet as he said this during their final Potions lesson before the winter holiday.

To Malfoy's disappointment, Harriet was able to ignore him now. The words Professor Dumbledore had said to her the day after the first match seemed to have nested inside of her. Instead of feeling sorry for herself, Harriet found herself feeling even happier about it than usual. She didn't want to go back to Privet Drive any more than the Dursleys wanted her back. She wanted to be here at Hogwarts with her friends, enjoying herself as much as she could.

In her eagerness to start her holidays, Harriet accidentally knocked over her mortar and pestle. She reached down to pick it up and was just about to add her final ingredient when Marcus reached over from his table and grabbed her hand.

“Don't!” Marcus hissed in a whisper. “Malfoy threw something into your potion when you weren't looking!”

Harriet looked over at Malfoy, who was looking torn between pride at having messed up Harriet's potion and disappointment that Marcus had spotted him doing it and told Harriet.

Harriet looked down at her potion, knowing it was now ruined, as instead of the lovely turquoise colour and soupy consistency it was supposed to be turning, it was becoming the colour and texture of mud. Harriet slowly raised her hand.

“P-Professor Snape…?” she asked softly, just loud enough to be heard over the sounds of bubbling cauldrons. Professor Snape, who had been walking amongst the Slytherins with his back turned when Malfoy had thrown whatever it was into her cauldron (Harriet wasn't foolish enough to try and fish it out herself), paused and slowly turned around to finally, for the first time in Potions class, look at Harriet.

“Yes, Potter?” he asked in an oddly constrained voice.

“I…” she shot a glance at Malfoy, and, knowing she'd have no proof of Malfoy having done anything, said, “My potion sir, something went wrong with it…”

The entire room was dead silent at this point. Professor Snape continued to look at her and finally strode slowly across the class toward her. Harriet swallowed a little as she looked up at him as he looked at her cauldron. Professor Snape took out his wand and gave it a casual flick and instantly, her potion vanished, leaving her cauldron cleaner than Harriet had ever seen it.

“Start again, Potter, you will stay after to complete it. Carry on,” Professor Snape said and without another word strode back across the classroom. The Gryffindors all glared at Professor Snape, but Harriet shook her head.

“It's fine,” she hissed, “I'd rather that than get a zero…” she said as she finally set back to work, remaking her Potion all over again, and ignoring the victorious smirk Malfoy was wearing. Somehow, she felt reinvigorated now in Potions. Professor Snape had acknowledged her. He had spoken to her, and even if he hadn't exactly been kind, he had at least given her the chance to do the potion again.

Finally, Harriet completed the potion. She called to Professor Snape from across the Potions classroom to say that she was finished. Professor Snape didn't even look up from his parchment he'd been writing on as he nodded.

“Very well, Potter, you may go.”

“But, don't you want—”

“I said, 'you may go'.”

Harriet blushed and quickly started cleaning up her potion and packing up her equipment. Hermione, Ronnie and Kieran were all waiting for her outside the door.

“You survived, eh?” Kieran asked as she left. Harriet nodded and shrugged.

“Wasn't that bad, I mean only cost me fifteen minutes, and I'm staying here anyway aren't I?” Harriet asked. Kieran had an odd expression on his face at her words and nodded. He didn't say another word as they made their way back up to Gryffindor Tower, nor the rest of the night.

It was a slightly subdued night for the little group of first years. They had gotten so close over the term so far, and now they were going their separate ways. Even if it was only for a few weeks, it was still quite some time.

“Well, it's only the holidays,” Seamus tried to say in a bolstering tone to the group at large. “We'll be back before we know it.”

“Yeah, and we'll spend all our time afterwards complaining about how break wasn't nearly long enough!” Dean joked, causing their entire group to break out into laughter and giggles. As they did, Harriet couldn't help but notice Lavender giving Dean a rather radiant smile and felt herself laugh a little more on the inside. Apparently, Lavender at least had decided to take Harriet's advice back about going after boys herself.

However, Harriet also couldn't help but notice that Kieran wasn't joining in the laughing. She kept stealing glances at him, trying to figure out what it was that was making him so much sadder than the others. She decided to ask him tomorrow before the Hogwarts Express left.

The following morning, Harriet awoke with a start. At first, she was worried she had overslept, but as she heard Parvati and Lavender packing outside her bed curtains, she knew she still had time to find Kieran before the train left. She quickly slipped out of bed, and after straightening out her hair, she got dressed.

She headed down the stairs into the common room. It was full of other students from all years saying their last goodbyes. She looked around frantically, wanting to find Kieran and find out what was wrong.

She was sure it was something she had said to him, as he had gone almost silent right after she'd come out of Potions. But she just couldn't think of what it was. Explicitly, she had said that would have upset him. She was sure he was probably a little sad they wouldn't be seeing each other for three full weeks, but he had seemed quite cheerful as she had come out of Potions.

Finally, she spotted Marcus who was talking to Neville near the fire. They smiled up at her as she approached.

“Hey, have either of you two seen Kieran?” She asked, looking hopefully down at them in their armchairs. Marcus and Neville's faces both fell, and they looked at each other before looking back up at her.

“Oh… Kieran already left with Scott and his family, they came and got them early this morning…” Marcus explained, looking apologetic.

Harriet's heart sank. “Oh… thanks…” she said and slowly turned away. He was gone already; she'd missed her chance to ask him. Harriet nodded and sank into the nearest armchair. She talked a little with Neville and Marcus as she sat until finally the oldest prefect (Percy was looking somewhat disgruntled it was not him) announced that the Hogwarts Express had arrived and it was time to make their way down to the train.

She made her way through her group of friends, giving out hugs to everyone and wishing farewells with the promise of Christmas cards and gifts to everyone. Hermione pulled Ronnie and Harriet aside to remind them to use the time over break to continue searching for Flamel.

“You know, maybe you could ask your parents, Hermione, maybe they'd know, and they wouldn't say anything to Dumbledore!” Ronnie suggested, suddenly looking excited.

“Maybe,” Hermione replied with a slight eye roll “Though doubtful, as they're dentists…”

“Oh yeah…” Ronnie muttered, sheepishly.

Harriet laughed before she finally turned to give hugs to Seamus and Dean who had just walked up. It was as she gave Dean his hug that Harriet felt realisation hit her like a kick in the gut. Kieran had sounded upset after she had said how she would be staying here and it wasn't that big of a de she hadn't left with the rest of them. And a horrible worry finally crept into her mind. Did Kieran fancy her too?

* * * *

“You could just write him a letter you know?”

It was the first day after everyone had left. Harriet was sitting in the common room with Ronnie playing Wizard's Chess. She found it considerably more interesting than regular chess because in regular chess the pieces didn't move or talk. She wasn't terribly good at it, though she supposed it was partly because in her dark mood she got an odd, grim pleasure out of watching Ronnie's white pieces smash her black ones and drag them off the board.

Harriet shook her head.

“No… it would sound stupid in a letter… ugh, why do boys have to do that?”

“Do what?” Ronnie asked.

“Fancy you!” Harriet explained, a little exasperated.

Ronnie furrowed her brow a little. “Well, not me…” she said in a slightly gruff tone.

Harriet suddenly had the strong urge to hit herself in the head with something hard.

“Oh, Ronnie, sorry I didn't—”

Ronnie laughed and shook her head.

“Forget it, Harriet, honestly, you know me, I find the whole boys thing stupid,” Ronnie said, looking completely sincere.

Harriet nodded. “I don't really like, I don't know… fancy them much I guess either… I just don't want anything else to mess up what we have…”

Harriet sighed looking around. It was one of those times she would have greatly enjoyed having Fred and George pop in to give her some titbit of wisdom about boys, but they were nowhere to be seen.

Ronnie shrugged. “Kieran's a pretty forgiving bloke; I'm sure he'll get over whatever it is.”

Harriet nodded just in time to see Ronnie's queen dragging her last knight off the board. Seeking now to change the subject to something more comfortable, especially now they were in fact alone, Harriet asked. “So, I've been thinking… maybe Flamel's in the restricted section?”

Ronnie looked up from the board.

“Of the library you mean?”

“Yeah,” Harriet replied.

Ronnie looked thoughtful.

“Maybe… but even the restricted section's huge, and Madame Pince would never let us look in there without a teacher's note…”

“I know…” Harriet admitted feeling a little defeated. “It was just a thought…”

“Well, a good one,” Ronnie said, smiling a little trying to cheer Harriet up. Harriet smiled a little appreciatively.

However, as the first week of the holidays began, Harriet was finding it hard to care all that much about Flamel once again. She was just having too much fun. Perhaps Ronnie had said something to them, but Fred and George seemed to have made it their mission during the holidays to cheer Harriet up.

Tormenting Percy was their most common method of doing so, even though Harriet most often found herself trying to tell them to leave him alone, though laughing all the same. Percy seemed to be even more annoyed whenever Harriet told the two to leave him alone, taking it as offensive that a first-year would have to stick up for him.

The best surprise, however, was Christmas morning. Harriet awoke and stretched and suddenly gasped as she saw a pile of presents at the foot of her bed. She hadn't been expecting anything.

“Morning, sunshine,” said Ronnie, as she slid out of her bed and immediately dived into her presents.

Harriet smiled, seeing all the names of her friends on the cards and packages. She had sent everyone cards as well, ones she and Ronnie had made themselves. Fortunately, as during the holidays most of the other students were gone, Harriet and Ronnie had ample amounts of school owls to use to send all their cards, so that poor Hedwig wouldn't have to carry all those letters to all those places at once.

Her heart skipped a beat as she saw a card from Kieran amongst them. She snatched it up and immediately tore it open and started to read. Kieran's card made her smile softly. On the front was a little picture of a snowy village, with moving snowflakes and flickering fireplaces in each of the tiny houses.

Harriet,

Sorry for how I was acting that last day there. I was just a bit put out because it didn't sound like you were going to miss us, but I know you didn't mean it that way. I hope this didn't make things too uncomfortable, and I hope this letter makes it all better.

Hope your holidays are fantastic!

Kieran

Kieran's card had indeed made her feel better. She set it aside, going through the rest. There was a Christmas card from each of her friends, and each made her smile more, even the one from the Dursleys with a fifty pence piece taped to it. Though to be fair, it was more Ronnie's fascination with the fifty pence piece that made her smile than the letter itself.

Finally, she turned to the packages. The first she picked up was crudely wrapped and turned out to be from Hagrid. It was a small wooden flute of sorts that looked like Hagrid had made it himself. When she blew on it, it sounded vaguely like an owl hooting, though in a soft, lyrical way.

She picked up the next parcel, which was soft and squashy. From her bed, Ronnie groaned.

“Oh no…”

“What?” Harriet asked.

“I'm sure I know who that one's from. It's from Mum; she's sent you a 'Weasley Jumper'.”

Harriet blinked. “A what?”

“A 'Weasley Jumper', every year Mum makes us all jumpers. I told her you weren't expecting anything this year for Christmas so…”

Harriet looked at the parcel and immediately tore it open. It was indeed a jumper, a green one, and came with a note.

Harriet Dear,

Ronnie told me that you weren't expecting anything for Christmas, so I decided to add you to the family a bit. I picked this colour because it matches your eyes so well.

Hope you're having a wonderful holiday,

Mrs Molly Weasley

Harriet felt her face grow warm as she looked at the jumper. She pulled off her own and immediately put the new one on. It was very warm, and fit her perfectly. She giggled softly.

“Awww, that was so nice… thanks, Ronnie,” Harriet said, beaming. Ronnie blushed but shrugged.

“Thank Mum, not me,” Ronnie said, putting on her purple one.

“So, I wonder who this one's from then?” Harriet asked no one in particular as she picked up the final parcel. It was very carefully and neatly wrapped, though it felt soft like the jumper had been. Harriet opened it carefully and a smooth, silky fabric spilt out onto her bed.

“What on earth…?” Harriet asked, picking up the strange material. From her bed, Ronnie gasped.

“No way… I mean no way!”

Ronnie leapt off her bed and quickly strode over to Harriet's.

“What?” Harriet asked, bemused by Ronnie's excitement and the strange material.

“It's… it can't be…”

“What?!” Harriet asked again, more insistently.

“I think that's… an invisibility cloak!”

Harriet looked down at it, amazed. “An invisibility cloak?”

“Quick!” Ronnie exclaimed with excitement, “Put it on!”

Harriet got up off her bed and opened the fabric more. It was indeed a cloak, made from the strangest material Harriet had ever seen or felt in her life. It didn't feel like cloth; it was so fine a consistency it seemed to flow like water through her fingers. Harriet quickly pulled it up over her head and smoothed it out.

Ronnie gasped. “It is! Look!”

Harriet looked down and jumped in surprise. Her body was gone. She quickly moved in front of her mirror and gasped. All she could see was her head floating in mid-air.

“Wow…” she moaned in awe.

“Look!” Ronnie exclaimed and bent down over Harriet's bed, picking up a small card. Harriet pulled off the cloak and crossed back over to Ronnie, taking the note. The message on the note was written in impeccable but loopy handwriting:

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is the time that it was finally returned to you, its rightful owner. Use it well.

Harriet turned the card over, puzzling. There was no name on the note to say who had given it to her. She sat down, just staring at the note.

“Everything alright?” Ronnie asked, concerned.

Harriet nodded. “Oh yeah,” she replied, though she didn't look up from the note. The cloak was her father's? If so, why hadn't it been returned to her before? But then she supposed if no one knew she was living with the Dursleys they wouldn't have known where to send it until now. Even so, the questions it raised intrigued her greatly.

“You're sure?”

“Oy! You lot!” Came a shout from down the stairs. “Hurry up and join the fun! And jumper on, Ronnie!”

Harriet smiled a little, finally distracted from the note. She set it down and put away the cloak in her trunk before she and Ronnie headed downstairs. Fred and George were beaming, both wearing home-made jumpers as well. Fred's had a large letter F on it, and George's had a G.

“Hey! Harriet got a jumper too, eh?” Fred asked cheerfully.

“Yours is nicer than ours though,” George said, leaning down and inspecting Harriet's sweater in a way that made Harriet slightly uncomfortable. “Suppose she makes more of an effort if the giftee's not related…”

Harriet blushed uncomfortably, but Fred and George merely smiled.

“You didn't get a letter on yours either,” he said, looking at Harriet's jumper. “She must think you don't forget your name.”

“We're not stupid though; we know our names are Gred and Feorge!”

Harriet and Ronnie both laughed.

“What's with all the noise?” Percy asked as he came down the stairs, holding his jumper.

“Hey! Percy got one too!” Fred exclaimed as he and George ran over to their older brother.

“And it has a P! For Prefect! Come on Perce; we're all wearing them!” George said as he and Fred snatched the jumper away from Percy. Percy shouted in protest as Fred and George forced the jumper down over his head and arms, pinning his arms down to his sides.

“Lunch time!” Fred called as they forced Percy from the common room.

The Christmas feast turned out to be one of the most fun experiences of Harriet's life. There were so few people that they gathered around a single table. Despite there being so few of them, Harriet was somewhat surprised at how many students had stayed.

There was a handful from each house it seemed, including a single Slytherin girl whose name Harriet couldn't quite remember. She was one of the quietest; she hardly ever spoke in Potions except to answer a question when called by Professor Snape. She did very well in the class too, and not even through Professor Snape's favouritism. As Harriet watched her surreptitiously from her end of the table, she couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for the girl, even if she was a Slytherin, she looked rather lonely.

In particular, she found the crackers the most enjoyable. When pulled, they would explode in vast clouds of multi-coloured smoke, leaving behind things like hats and other gifts. One even had an entire wizards chess set and some white mice. At the head of the table, Professor Dumbledore was wearing a flowered bonnet he'd gotten out of a cracker he had pulled with Professor Sprout.

They were just about to start the pudding when it happened. And after it, Harriet felt utterly stupid. It happened as Professor Dumbledore leaned over to speak to the blonde Slytherin girl.

“So, Miss Flamel, how have you been enjoying your time here at Hogwarts so far?”

Harriet froze. Ronnie, who was rapidly stuffing her face full of pudding, hadn't heard. But now Harriet knew; she knew where she had heard the name Flamel before. The blond Slytherin girl named Dora Flamel. Could she be a relative of Nicolas Flamel's? It wasn't a typical name, but that was no reason to assume they were related, was it?

“Oh, it is quite fine, thank you, Headmaster,” Dora said politely, though quietly. Harriet had never really listened to her talk before. Her voice was somewhat high-pitched and had a dull sound to it that matched her usual demeanour. It wasn't quite the same as Malfoy's however. In Malfoy, the look was superior and confident. In Dora, however, it was more resigned, as if she was continually feeling put upon, or was just waiting for something interesting to happen in her life.

Harriet looked over at Ronnie who was still eating obliviously. She decided she would wait until after to inform her of the possible lead in the search for Flamel.