Chapter Twenty-Three
"Yuletide Trance"

Page One

Christmas day didn't seem to last long enough. Time sped by as Harry, Ron, Hermione and Sophie enjoyed each other's company in the Gryffindor Common Room. They all played games, such as a very loud round of exploding snap and an incredibly spirited game of charades. The joyous afternoon was utterly filled with uproarious laughter.

The more Harry, Ron and Hermione got acquainted with Sophie the more they liked her. Even though she was a bit nervous and reserved around them at first, she quickly disbarred all inhibitions and became quite comfortable in their presence. She blossomed into an energetic, amiable and humorous individual. Her young age was quickly forgotten, making youthful awkwardness disappear.

She seemed very small for her age. She couldn't have been taller than four feet, four inches. Her hair was cut to her shoulders and was a most delightful shade of blonde. It wasn't too light, wasn't too dark: it was just perfectly in between. She had deep brown eyes that didn't seem to match her hair, but they were pretty nonetheless.

Just when they were about to faint from laughing so hard after Sophie's animated portrayal of a Muggle magician pulling a white rabbit out of a top hat, Fred and George toppled in through the portrait hole, completely covered from head to toe in thick, gooey mud.

"Eugh," groaned Ron. "What'd you two do? De-mud the lake?"

Fred looked up at Ron and shot him a very expressive look that clearly said back off.

"We came in to remind you that Christmas dinner will begin in precisely ten minutes," said George, his voice droll and tired.

"We're going to go wash up," said Fred. "See ya in ten."

They slopped up the stairs, leaving a trail of wet earth behind them.

Hermione sighed, then muttered something under her breath that sounded distinctly like "Boys…" She shook her head, got out her wand and made the mud disappear with one nonchalant flick of her wrist.

"Do you want to head down to the Great Hall now?" suggested Sophie politely. "It'd give us extra time so we don't get in a rush."

"Sounds good to me," said Harry.

"Yeah, let's get going," yawned Ron, rather tired after the day's activities.

The group of four meandered through the halls on their way to the Great Hall.

"Who do you think cleans all these suits of armor?" wondered Sophie aloud as they passed four stately hollow knights in a row. "I bet someone invented a spell to make them self-cleaning… although, you never know. It's strange what magic can be used for and what it can't."

They marched down the grand staircase that led to the entry hall and gradually made it to the large doors of the Great Hall. They pulled them open and stepped inside, amazed at what they saw.

A grandiose rectangular table was in the place of the oval shaped table that had been in the center of the room earlier that morning. It was bedecked in a dark green tablecloth, which was lined in elegant silver trim. Atop the table was a simple, sophisticated arrangement of deep burgundy roses, opened to perfection. Each of the twenty place settings had its own small bouquet of minute red and green rosebuds, tied loosely with silver ribbon and placed gently on each hammered glass plate.

Ron was shocked to see his Mother, Father and Ginny sitting at the table, talking avidly with Hagrid, Madam Pomfrey and Snape. When Harry, Ron, Hermione and Sophie walked in, the conversation was immediately dropped and Mrs. Weasley walked over to them and said quietly, "I'll explain later why your father and I are here. In the mean time, eat quietly then we can go up to Gryffindor tower to talk, alright?"

They all nodded their heads and went to sit next to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley who had brought Ginny back for Christmas dinner. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley decided that it was best for Ginny to stay home over the holidays, what with all the commotion going on.

As soon as they were seated, Lucius Malfoy, Draco and Professor Ceres walked in through the large doors.

"Merry Christmas!" said Professor Ceres cheerily. Her joyous stature seemed to contrast ironically against Lucius Malfoy's cold, hard, fixed face. His detestable emotional state was only made worse upon seeing Arthur Weasley sitting at the table.

"You've done a spectacular job with this place, Severus," cooed Professor Ceres as she approached the table. "Utterly smashing! Who knew we had such an artiste in our midst."

"Thank you," said Snape placidly. "Have a seat. The Minister should be here any moment."

"Oh good!" sighed Ceres happily. "It seems like it's been ages since I've seen Cornelius. I've missed all his visits here, stuck away in my greenhouse as always," she smiled sweetly and let out a polite laugh. The table fell silent immediately. Snape started letting his finger roam around the edge of his clear glass plate and he began looking carefully at the people seated at the table.

Just as the awkwardness of the silence was just about to reach that unbearable point of no return, the doors burst open and Cornelius Fudge walked in as dramatically as humanly possible, flanked by three large, imposing figures clad in dark green traveling cloaks; Ministry Guards.

"Merry Christmas," said Fudge smugly as he approached the table. Snape's finger paused on its course around the plate as he looked up at Fudge with a definitive look of hatred etched across his already hardened features.

"Sit down," said Snape crisply, trying to mask the venomous tone in his voice.

Fudge and the Guards took their seats at the long table and were just settling in when Professor Trelawney came gliding through the open doors, 'fashionably late' as always.

Christmas dinner couldn't have lasted any longer. It was the most awkward event Harry had ever been to in his entire life. He couldn't help but notice the murderous looks, the sly insults and the back-stabbing comments being thrown between Fudge and Snape. It seemed as if a giant wedge was being driven between them, each continuing comment bringing the hammer down upon the metaphorical wedge, splitting them apart, insult by insult. With each new word from one end of the table or the other, their views became all the more different and their hatred doubled.

Right before dinner was to be served, Professor Ceres stood up and excused herself politely, explaining that she felt a bit of a stomach ache coming on and she'd better go make a special brew of tea to calm herself. She left them, limping slightly and clutching her stomach as gracefully as she could.

As soon as dinner was completed, that was the Weasley's cue to leave. There was so much to talk about and so much talking to avoid that was inevitable amongst their present company. The only ones to stay behind were Fred and George. Ron was amazed when his mother did not protest the twins' actions. Christmas had always been a time, where, if at all possible, it was strictly a family occasion. Ron rolled his eyes as he was shepherded out the door, leaving Fred and George with Snape, the Malfoys and Fudge.

"Phew, am I glad to be out of there," sighed Mr. Weasley.

"Tell us why you're here," interrupted Ron immediately as the doors were shut to the Great Hall.

"Ministry 'business'," replied Mr. Weasley with a rather sarcastic tone. "Fudge pulled agents in from the strangest departments to cover this case. He said that the regular departments for this sort of thing are 'all tied up' looking for Sirius Black. Huh, you'd think an attack from You-Know-Who would be higher on the priority list."

"Anyway," said Mrs. Weasley, cutting her husband off. "Snape invited us to Christmas dinner because he knew you were here, Ron and I bet he thought you and your brothers could do with some cheering up."

"Heh," tutted Ron. "Snape? Care about me needing cheering up? That'll be the day…"

Mrs. Weasley stopped Ron right in his tracks by grabbing the back of his robes, making him spin around to face her. She placed her hands on her hips and she had a stern look in her eye. "That man is doing a lot of good for everyone involved," she said, "don't you ever bad-talk him, got it? He's under enough stress as it is, the poor man."

They continued walking to Gryffindor tower in silence. It was shaping up to be an odd Christmas night. No one was in very good spirits, except Sophie, who seemed entirely happy that she wouldn't have to spend Christmas alone in the Hufflepuff common room.

Once inside the warm common room, the dim leftovers from the dismal scene they had just left in the Great Hall melted away and it felt immediately more like Christmas. The warm flames in the fireplace danced merrily to and fro, sending a kaleidoscope of orange, yellow and red rays of light pirouetting around the room.

"Thank you for the package, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry as they settled down into the armchairs surrounding the fireplace.

"You're welcome, dear," replied Mrs. Weasley, smiling gently at him. Her face seemed to glow in the firelight. It radiated motherly warmth that seemed to comfort everyone around her. "What else did you get this morning?"

"Hagrid sent me a nice leather bookmark," Harry smiled back at Mrs. Weasley. He couldn't help it: the warmth was so enveloping. "Ron got quite a few exciting things."

Ron's face lit up as the topic of conversation came around to him. He immediately broke into a hurried and excited explanation of his gifts. He sounded almost like a joyous machine gun. "You wouldn't believe what all I got!" he exclaimed. "Hermione got me a Chudley Cannon's wristwatch!"

Hermione turned slightly red at this announcement, to which Ginny and Sophie replied by giggling incessantly. Ron, however, didn't notice this girlish display, he simply continued with his rapid-fire discussion.

"And, Hagrid got me a book about that owl I got last year," he lied quickly. He didn't think his mother would like it if she knew Sirius, a suspected murderer, was sending her son Christmas presents. "It's a Jamaican Squawker, mum! That's why it was making such a ruckus!"

"Oh! I see," said Mrs. Weasley thoughtfully. "And that would explain why it wouldn't eat the shepherd's pie I was trying to feed it…"

"You were feeding an owl shepherd's pie?" exclaimed Ginny, aghast at her mother.

"Yes, darling," said Mrs. Weasley collectedly.

"But owls don't like shepherd's pie!" Ginny was nearly in a conniption.

"Our old owl, Erroll, loved shepherd's pie," insisted Mrs. Weasley.

"You fed that to Erroll?" gasped Ginny. "No wonder he's so sick!"

"Don't worry your head," Mrs. Weasley said, trying to calm Ginny down. She turned to Ron in an effort to change the subject. "Ron, dear, why don't you go get that book so I can take a look at it."

Ron's smile widened immediately. "Okay!" he said as he bolted from his chair and ran up the stairs to the boy's dormitory.

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