Chapter Five ‡Christmas Cheer

Christmas was in the air. I could see it; could smell it; could taste it. It had started out slowly enough at first. Little things here and there would remind me of the approaching holiday, and I would feel a quick jolt of anticipation. However, once the first snow fell, I reached the point of no return—that point in holiday eagerness where nobody can open their mouths without me hearing a Christmas carol, and I couldn't look at food without thinking of the feast I had to look forward to, and each morning I woke up expecting to, by some miracle, find presents stacked under the small pine tree I had snuck into my dormitory. I could barely concentrate on my work, because every teacher looked like Santa Clause when I looked at them.

To say that I was a little excited for Christmas was something of an understatement.

When it was finally time to leave for the holiday, it was all I could do not to run around the castle singing carols at the top of my lungs.

I clambered into one of the horseless cariages with Emma, Feliks, Rudy, and Azura. As Harmon attempted to climb in after us, the door slammed itself shut and took off down the road. Azura let out a sigh of relief and slid down in her seat.

"I won't be missing him, that much is certain," she said with a slight laugh. "He's been all over me since Halloween. And I don't even think he knows that I've noticed."

"Well, being a Ravenclaw means that you are bright. It doesn't mean you're observant," Feliks noted, trying hard to suppress a smile.

"Or are a genius with social skills," I added.

Rudy crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head. "That boy gets on my nerves. He's always looking over my shoulder, trying to correct my work. As if I need his help. I'm perfectly capable of doing well on my own. Not like you can cheat to get into Ravenclaw. I obviously made it on my own."

"He does the same thing to me! The only difference is that, with me, he's just trying to smell my hair!" Azura flipped her long black plait over her shoulder, her face scrunched up in distaste

"Guys, be nice," Emma said warningly. "He's not so bad!"

Feliks snorted. "You say that, but you've never caught him folding your laundry in the middle of the night. I'm telling you, there's something wrong with a boy when he sneaks around, folding his dormmate's knickers."

"Did he really?" Rudy guffawed.

"Oh yeah. I pretended not to see, because I didn't want to embarrass him, but it happened."

Rudy, Feliks, and Azura continued to recount little incidents about Harmon while Emma listened on disapprovingly. I, on the other hand, turned around to peek out the back window and watch as the castle grew smaller and smaller. As it receded into the distance, it became more and more the background, and less and less the focal point of the landscape.

Hogwarts was magnificent in the snow, and it probably would have been the most magical place to spend Christmas under different conditions. Like if my friends were staying. Or if I wasn't a little homesick. Or if my parents weren't afraid that Sirius Black was going to break in again and kill me.

They were under some sort of delusion that he was visiting Hogarts for the sole purpose of hunting me down.

The carriage pulled up to Hogsmeade Station and the five of us stepped out into the snow. Emma hooked her arm through mine, as was her custom, and rushed us off to the platform. Azura hurried after us, and the three of us huddled together against the cold, while Feliks and Rudy stood off to the side.

"Yes, Harmon, I am aware that Hogsmeade is the only completely wizarding village in Britain," I heard Ivory saying impatiently. "I live here."

"But do you know who founded it?"

"Yes—Hengist the Woodcroft. Really, you should stop trying to stump me with questions about my own village. If you are so determined for me to be wrong, why don't you try asking me about where you live."

Harmon ignored her suggestion. "Well, just because you live here doesn't mean you know everything."

"But it means I know more than you. Oh look, there are the others!"

Ivory jogged ahead of Harmon to join our huddle just as Willow, Derek, and Edward came through the platform's entryway. She latched onto Azura's wrist, her eyes wide with frustration. Azura replied with a consoling hug, and then the wordless exchange was over.

"It must be wonderful getting to look at Hogwarts for Christmas, yeah?" I commented, my eyes flitting towards the castle looming in the background.

"Like a postcard," Emma added, her eyes following my gaze.

"A postcard?" Ivory asked confusedly as Azura and I gave her curious looks. "What's that?"

"It's a—well, it a photo…of a place…that is quite beautiful…and it's sent to people who aren't…at that place."

"So it's just a picture," I stated bluntly.

"Well, it's a particularly nice picture. And you write a little note on the back."

"So, it's really nothing more than a nice photograph," Azura said authoritatively to the rest of us.

"No!" Emma demanded. "It's—it's—"

"Isn't she cute?" I interrupted, smiling brightly as I pinched one of her pink cheeks. She scowled, her blush growing.

"I hate being the only one of us who is muggle-born. No one ever knows what I am talking about, and I always look silly."

"I don't think you're silly," Ivory said sweetly as she reached up to pat Emma on the back. "I was just curious. I've never been exposed to many muggle terms, what with living in Hogsmeade and all. If anything, I think I look silly."

"You? Silly? Ha!" Rudy exclaimed, taking a step towards our circle. He smiled brightly at Ivory, who turned away with a red face. "That would be like saying Bridey's good on a broom."

Of course, Feliks immediately burst into a fit of raucous laughter, which immediately spread to the others like some highly contagious virus. Fortunately, my immune system was in top condition, because I did not get so much as a snicker.

"I don't see how it's necessary to bring that subject up. It is completely irrelevant. Besides, it isn't nice to bring suffering to others at Christmas time. And your remark, Rudy, has caused great pain for me. See?" I pointed dramatically at the big frown tugging at my lips.

"The suffering of one cannot surpass the joy of many. And look at all of the joy I have brought! That's Christmas cheer if I ever saw any!" Rudy countered.

"Yeah! You wouldn't want to deprive us of any Christmas joy, would you Bridey? We all know how much you love this holiday," Willow added.

I should have known my pre-Christmas fever would come back to kick me in the thóin.

"The hall is green, the eye is green! The prettiest picture to be seen is Christmas when kill Mommy!" Willow sang—or screeched, rather. Her singing left much to be desired. Like bandages for the ear drums, for example.

"It's 'The holly green, the ivy green; the prettiest you've ever seen is Christmas in Killarney,'" I corrected impatiently, rubbing my ears not-so-discreetly to see if there was any sign of bleeding. "You should know that by now. I've sung it often enough."

"Are you even from Killnarney?" Azura asked curiously.

"Killarney. And no, I'm fromBallinafad."

"Then why do you sing about Killarney?" Harmon demanded. "Wouldn't it make more sense to sing about your own town?"

"If there were any Christmas carols about Ballinafad, I would. As it is, there aren't."

"How do you know that there aren't? I'm sure if you did your research, you would be able to find—"

"Harmon!" Ivory exclaimed in exasperation. "Despite what you obviously believe, you do not know everything! You also are not the expert on every village in the United Kingdom—"

"—And Ireland," I cut in, since Ireland was not a part of Great Britain.

"And Ireland," Ivory repeated. "You may know all there is to know about wherever you are from—"

"London. And I am quite aware that I don't know everything there is to know about London. I plan to further my research over the holidays. I think it would be beneficial to everyone if they would do the same. Then, I wouldn't feel the need to implement my knowledge on your—"

"I GOT IT!" cried Stephen Giordano just before he knocked into Harmon, effectively cutting him off from his lecture. The Gryffindor immediately sprung back to his feet, a Fanged Frisbee in his hands. He didn't offer a hand to Harmon. "Hey guys," he greeted, nodding at Feliks, Rudy, Derek, and Edward in turn. "Ladies." His eyes fleeted over each of us briefly, his mouth twisted into a smirk.

"Stephen!" Stephen's fellow Gryffindor, Donald Borne, called from half-way across the platform.

"That's me. Happy Christmas everyone." He nodded his head at our group collectively and took his leave.

"Happy Christmas!" I called after him, my enthusiasm for the holiday once again brimming over. He glanced over his shoulder at me with a bemused expression.

"You have a good holiday, Bridey."

"He's so polite!" I proclaimed brightly.

Harmon was dusting off the seat of his pants but stopped in order to put all of his energy into the dirty look he shot me. "Polite? Polite? Polite? If that is the case, then why did he just plow into me, and then not even apologize or even help me up?"

"He probably didn't even notice. You're a small guy," Derek Vesey responded as he stifled a yawn. Deeming it was time to move on, he turned towards Edward. "What time is it?"

Edward pulled his hand out of his pocket to check his golden wrist watch. "It is ten past eleven." He frowned. "The train should be here by now."

"So should my parents!" Ivory mumbled, glancing around the platform as if that would magically make them appear amongst the hundreds of the students milling about.

"I'm sure they are both just around the corner," said Emma optimistically. "Bridey, we should probably look for Sandra. Remember, we had all agreed to sit together for the ride to King's Cross."

"Oh yeah." I had completely forgotten. And it wasn't that I didn't want to sit with Sandra. She just wasn't very big on Christmas. Every time I had mentioned the holiday in her presence, she got a dark look on her face and asked me not stop singing or to go away (Emma said that Sandra was a "Scrooge," which I can only assume means she doesn't like to be happy. It's hard to say, though, with these funny muggle terms.). It was hard to be around someone who had no interest in Christmas when it was all I could think about.

Plus I always felt as if she was judging everyone around her. She had this air about her that gave the impression that she was above the trite matters with which others concerned themselves. I had been too intimidated upon our first meeting to make any real opinion of her, but over the past few months my esteem for her had been faltering.

Maybe it was that I didn't want to sit with her.

"I guess I will see you all later then," I said with a dull smile. "Happy Christmas. Have wonderful breaks."

"Wait, where are you going?" Feliks demanded, grabbing me by the elbow before I could walk away.

"Well Emma and I had already made some seating arrangements, so we were going to go find our friend…"

"I'll come with you guys."

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that."

"Well, there isn't enough room in a compartment for all of us anyway. We'd be at each other's throats…figuratively and literally. If I came with you two, then there'd be some more room for everyone else."

"Well, that sounds reasonable…"

More than reasonable, it sounded fantastic. Feliks was sure to be an excellent distraction from the condescending remarks Sandra was bound to make.

I didn't really know when my aversion to Sandra had started. In October, I was still on wonderful terms with her. I still spoke with her every morning at breakfast and even enjoyed her company. Now, I was dreading it.

"And Harmon can come, too!" Emma chimed in. Feliks and I shared a look of disapproval, but Emma was too busy beaming at Harmon to even notice.

"Those are perfect seating arrangements!" Azura proclaimed, her gray eyes lighting up.

"Are you sure?" Harmon asked doubtfully. He was frowning so deeply that it pulled his eyebrows together. He looked cross-eyed behind his square glasses.

"Absolutely."

"Wonderful," Emma squealed, obviously pleased with her kind deed. She failed to notice the look of reluctance which Harmon wore as he moved to stand next to her.

Sandra found her way over to us before Emma and I could be pulled away from our fellow Ravenclaws.

Mr. and Mrs. Weems arrived just as the Hogwarts Express was pulling into the station. They were a pleasant couple, I decided. They smiled warmly as they shook the hands of each of us in turn. Then it was time to say goodbye and for us to hurry onto the train; Ivory smiled and hugged each of us affectionately.

She was exactly like her parents. Her face, hair, and complexion all belonged to her mother, but her slight stature seemed to come completely from her father. And where I could be no judge of character, having just briefly met her parents, it was a safe bet to say that she was the perfect blending of both.

The rest of us hurried onto the train together before parting ways. I took my time saying goodbye—unsure if I would see them again before we arrived at King's Cross—before trudging off after Emma and the others.

Rather than ebbing away, my eagerness for Christmas was stronger than ever, though not so pure as it had been before. My enormous desire to escape the endless hours stuck in a compartment with not only Sandra, but Harmon as well, had increased my interest in the holiday immensely.

And I hadn't even thought that was possible.

It was becoming unerringly clear to me that the Christmas season was the time when the most impossible things became possible. Sandra was noticeably less condescending and gloomy; Harmon was acting tolerably—he had been a bit mopey at first, but about half-way through the trip, he perked up. This involved him speaking mostly with Feliks and Emma, and I supposed he would have tried to talk to me as well, but after a while of listening to him talk and fearing I would be asked to join the conversation, I pretended to be asleep. And he hadn't once tried to "wake" me.

Miracles did happen.

Of course, the illusion was ruined—proven too good to be true—when Seamus came bursting into the compartment. He saw through my ploy immediately, and rather than play along, he decided to ruin everything. Which was just so typical of him.

"Bridey, open your eyes! I know you're not asleep!" Seamus shouted; the door slid shut behind him as loudly as it had upon opening. I cringed noticeably at the sound, but did not open my eyes.

"I'm not an eejit, Bridey. Yeh aren't sleeping."

"Maybe she is," Sandra said coolly. "She looks asleep to me."

"And who exactly would you be?" Seamus demanded. "Certainly no Bridey Byrne expert. I've known Bridey since she was born. She has pulled this trick on me countless times before—I can tell it's just a ruse."

"Maybe you don't know her as well as you think."

"Seriously, who are you? You think I don't know my Bride?"

"Your what?" Feliks spluttered. I imagined that his eyes had widened to the size of saucers, and if I would just give up my trick, I might finally get to see what color his irises were.

"Seriously, who are you people? I don't know a single fecking one of you!"

Incorrect—he had met Emma before. I was sure of that.

"I'm Harm—"

"That wasn't an invitation to introduce yourself," Seamus interrupted. He was being much ruder than I had thought possible. For the past four years, I had found him annoying more often than not. But it was the type of annoying which everyone else found so endearing and charming. This was a side of him that even I didn't know.

"If you are right, and she really isn't sleeping, then she doesn't seem to want to talk to you very much," Sandra said a little too smugly.

I didn't like the implications that her tone carried. As if I preferred her company over his, and I was just waiting for him to leave. As if he was the reason I was pretending to be asleep, rather than Harmon's incessant chatter and my aversion of her. I would have pretended to be asleep until we arrived at King's Cross to continue to avoid dealing with her if I didn't know that it would bring her some form of satisfaction.

So I "woke up."

I don't mean to be cocky, but I thought I was pretty convincing. I slowly sat up, stretching my arms over my head as I suppressed a yawn. I withdrew my legs from Feliks's lap, where I hadn't even realized I had stretched them. Then, finally, I opened my eyes and looked around the compartment.

"Oh, Seamus! When did you get here?" My voice sounded a little too chipper to have just woken up, but I hoped that nobody noticed that.

"You are full of malarkey, aren't you Bride?"

I didn't know how to respond. Admitting I had been faking it the entire time would raise questions about my motives. If I didn't explain, Sandra would jump to the conclusion that she was right. Which was really just silly, because I had shown no qualms about telling Seamus what I was feeling in the past—why would I this time? But I didn't want for everyone to believe that Seamus was wrong, either. It didn't matter how much Seamus irritated me, or how much I enjoyed getting back at him in even the slightest way. I firmly believed that when someone was right, it deserved to be recognized.

"Well," I began tentatively as I figured out the final details of my plan, "I had been asleep for a while. But then you came bursting in here and slamming things about, and I woke up." I scowled, thinking it was probably an appropriate reaction. "I would have gotten up sooner, but I thought it would be fun to see how long it would take the rest of you lot to figure it out."

"But we didn't figure it out," Emma pointed out.

"I know that. But I was getting restless, and it didn't seem like you were going to figure it out any time soon."

"So you were just full of malarkey then. See, I was right!" Seamus gloated. I should have seen it coming; Seamus was not one to take being right lightly. I wasn't sure if it was just because it was such a rare occurrence, or if he really liked to prove others wrong, but he had a tendency to celebrate a little too much. Typically, it involved some sort of jig.

I hated it when he bragged.

And so, apparently, did Sandra.

As Seamus was performing his usual celebratory dance (which mostly involved flailing his arms about—he was no dancer), Sandra's face was growing darker and darker with a scowl so deep-set it made her forehead wrinkle.

I had never seen Sandra lash out, but I imagined that she had quite the temper. My mood had already plummeted since I got onto the train, and an angry Sandra could only provide an additional negative impact.

"In the spirit of Christmas," I said loudly, successfully terminating Seamus's unbearable dancing, "let there be no bragging or harsh feelings. Christmas is supposed to be a joyful time to spend with family and with friends. So, I feel it is necessary to ask—Seamus, what are you even doing here?"

I could tell this was not what anyone had been expecting. Emma and Sandra laughed appreciatively as Harmon smiled wryly; Feliks was actually pealing with laughter. I just stared at Seamus expectantly, my face even. His ears were red.

"Claddagh."

That was all he said—just one word. And then he left, as if that one stupid word should satisfy my question.

"What does that mean?" Emma inquired curiously.

"I have no clue," I replied irritably, resuming my seat beside Feliks.

"Isn't that what your necklace is? A claddagh?" Feliks observed, his eyes fixed on my throat where the pendant sat—two hands encircled around a green heart. My hand shot up towards it and I rubbed it subconsciously between my thumb and forefinger.

"Yes it is. But that doesn't explain anything. My opinion is that when he doesn't know what to say, Seamus fills the silence with nonsense and disappears, leaving everyone wondering about what he meant."

"Everything he says is nonsense," Harmon stated. "The boy's a monkey. His intelligence is no bigger than the fleas he picks out of his friends' hair."

It took me a full minute to gather an intelligible thought. "And how would you know anything about that?" I finally managed to splutter.

"He blows up everything that he touches. It doesn't take a genius to properly execute a spell."

"And where did you hear that?"

"He has developed quite a reputation," Sandra commented. "He's singed his eyebrows multiple times, and I heard he once even gave himself a bald patch."

"Well we shouldn't believe everything we hear. Seamus isn't stupid. He's a bit goofy, and he's stubborn, and he gets on my nerves. But he's actually very clever. And I will tell you, it can be fairly difficult to perform a spell when you have an accent as thick as his or mine. These spells weren't made by the Irish, for the most part. We say things differently. I know I have had to repeat myself on multiple occasions to get a spell done."

"But you've never blown anything up."

If that was supposed to be a compliment coming from Harmon Weathers, I didn't want it.

"That you know of," I snarled. I didn't wait for anyone to respond before getting out of my seat and leaving. I couldn't be with them anymore. They had succeeded in doing the two things that I thought would never be possible—they ruined my mood at Christmastime, and they made me stick up for Seamus Finnigan, something I had all but vowed not to do again three years ago.

A few minutes later, I found myself sitting with Jackie Reed and Randee Dunn. I had been wandering the corridors in search of Azura, Willow, and the others, when I came across a seemingly empty compartment. Without thought, I threw open the door and stepped inside.

They barely even looked up.

I fell into a seat by the door, ready for a quick escape if I felt I needed it, and nothing was said about it. Randee continued to play her one-sided game of Wizard's Chess as Jackie went on reading The Quibbler and marking its pages with her colorful bits of paper.

"Bean?" Jackie offered, holding out a sac of Bertie Bott's to me.

"Yes—thank you." I carefully picked through until I found a cherry. There was something about cherry flavoring which was very soothing to me, so it was naturally my go-to bean when I was as frustrated as I was then. But, as I gnashed through the single jelly bean, I didn't find myself calming down. To the contrary, I felt my anger bubbling to the surface anew.

"Harmon Weathers is the most insufferable—intolerable—"

"Prick?" Randee suggested. Her eyes briefly connected with mine before returning to her chess match. I saw Jackie try to suppress a smile.

"Exactly!"

"I couldn't agree more. Just the other day, I was in the library playing chess—which you can see I do a lot—and he sat down across from me and tried to join in. When I politely told him that I would rather practice on my own, he took it upon himself to try to teach me. I told him that I knew perfectly well how to play—I'd been playing since I was in diapers, and my ancestors created the game—which was of course complete bollocks, but I figured it would get him to leave me alone. Then he went on to tell me that Wizard's Chess was made by some bloke named Fabius Kronkite. So, I told him that that was my great-great-great-grandfather or something, gathered up my things, and I left."

"One time, he tore up all of my sticky notes, saying that if I didn't practice remembering things on my own, my mind was just going to deteriorate. Because of him, I forgot to do three essays. So, to get back at him, I've been leaving cryptic messages where I know he will find them. I don't think he's figured out that it's me yet," Jackie said with a grin, obviously pleased with herself.

"You don't leave them on the—erm…sticky notes…do you?" I asked delicately.

"No, of course not. He would know that they were from me then." She laughed like I had just made the most preposterous suggestion in the world. "So how has Harmon been bothering you?"

"He just thinks that he does everything better than everybody else and that he knows more than everyone else—about everything. And he's so snobby! Just because someone has blown something up once or twice, he thinks the person has the intelligence of a troll or something!"

"Do you mean Seamus Finnigan?"

How did people always know that I meant him?

"Yes."

"He's the one you brought the soup for, right?"

"…Yes."

She just smiled and said nothing more on the subject. But when she removed a pencil from behind her ear and started to work on a crossword in The Quibbler, she was still smiling.

"Do either of you know the name of an egg which is used in potions to enhance mental ability and are only sold on the black market? It starts with an 'r,' if I got that last one right…"

"How many letters?" Randee asked as I answered definitively, "Runespoor."

"R…u…n…e…s…p…o…o…r. Nine letters! That fits! I spelt it right, right?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Perfect. Thank you, Bridey." She quickly jotted a note down on one of her blue sticky notes, and continued with her crossword. I was curious about what she could have possibly written down, but I was too afraid it would have something to do with the purchasing of runespoor eggs to ask.

The sky was dark when the scarlet steam engine finally pulled into the station, but the platform was amply lit. Emma found me as soon as I stepped off the train and proceeded to plow right into me, nearly knocking me backwards.

"You never came back! I can't believe you didn't come back!"

"I meant to, I just lost track of time."

"Where did you go? Me and Feliks went looking for you. We found Rudy's compartment, but you weren't in it, and they said they hadn't seen you."

"Oh, I was sitting with Jackie and Randee."

"Oh, okay." Emma finally relinquished me from her bony grip, her arms falling to her side. "Who?"

"Jackie Reed and Randee Dunn. They're Gryffindors in our year."

"Are they?" She paused a moment, biting her lip. "Okay, I remember Jackie! She's the one with all of the sticky notes! But Randy? I don't know who he is."

"She. Randee Dunn is a girl. And she is probably still around, if you want me to point her out."

I scanned the crowd for her, but before I could catch a glimpse of her, I saw somebody else who made my stomach do a back flip. I couldn't help but watch as he greeted his parents with warm hugs and affectionate kisses, the brightest smile gracing his lips. His gaze lifted, and his eyes—such a gentle blue—found mine. I looked away quickly, my face hot.

"Bridey, are you alright?" Emma asked, leaning closer. She placed a hand on my forehead and frowned. "Why, you're burning up! Do you have a fever?"

"I'm fine," I mumbled, staring at my feet.

"Looking forward to the holiday, Bridey?"

Oh, no! He had come over! I wasn't sure whether to be happy or embarrassed. Either way, I felt sick. My stomach was turning in a most unnatural way, and the heat in my face had spread to my ears and all the way down to my hands.

"Oh, yes," I said quietly, barely daring to look up. "Are…are you, Terry?"

"Of course! Christmas is my favorite holiday! Are you alright? Um, Emma, is she alright?"

"I think she might have a bit of a fever," Emma replied authoritatively.

"I'm fine. Really. Just excited to go home," I assured them. It was mortifying to have my best friend discussing my health with Terry Boot.

This proved to be a satisfactory answer for Terry, who went on to agree with me whole-heartedly. The same could not be said for Emma, whom was still scrutinizing my every move.

"You two should probably be finding your parents! They're probably worried about you by now," Terry said suddenly. He looked over his shoulder at his own parents, who were engaged in a conversation of their own.

"Oh, you're right!" Emma said anxiously. "I don't know if my parents would even be able to make it through the barrier. They're probably worried sick…I should really get going. Bye Terry—Happy Christmas! And Bridey, I will write you!" She pulled me in a suffocating hug before starting to walk away. "Happy Christmas, Bridey!"

"You, too, Emma!" I called after her, though in my head I was mentally cursing her. Usually, after knowing someone for a while, you grow more comfortable with them, but the opposite was true for Terry.

"Do you want help finding your parents?" Terry offered. He was so sweet and genuine…it was hard not to be more than a little infatuated with him.

"Oh, no! Thank you very much, but I can find them on my own. Besides, you probably want to be going."

"It really wouldn't be any trouble."

"No, it's alright. Really."

"Well, if you're sure…" He looked over his shoulder; his parents had finished their conversation and were waiting for him to return. "I should get going then."

"Okay. Happy Christmas, then, Terry." I smiled unsteadily, holding up my hand to wave good-bye.

"No need to be so proper—it's Christmas!" he cheerily exclaimed. Then, without warning, he pulled me into a hug. I felt my breath catch in my chest; he must have felt the way my heart was racing, pounding against my rib cage. I hesitantly returned the hug, barely breathing. I wanted to run away and hide in shame, but I didn't want it to end, either.

But, unfortunately, it had to. He pulled away after what could only have been half a minute, at most, and smiled brightly. His face wasn't red like mine was. "Happy Christmas, Bridey," he said, and then he walked away.

I was too stunned to think anything of him pausing briefly to talk to Seamus. I was too stunned to even think about why Seamus could possibly be walking towards me.

All of the joy which Harmon and Sandra had sucked out of me had been returned ten-fold in that thirty-second period alone. There was no way I could ever be anything but happy again.

"Well, now that that touching scene is over, are yeh ready to go?" Seamus asked. His eyes glinted mischievously and his mouth was twisted into a sarcastic smirk. I could tell he was doing everything he could to suppress a laugh, because his nostrils were flaring. They actually reminded me of Seamus's gloating jig, the way they flailed about.

"Ready to go where? I was just going to go find Mum and Pa."

"Ah, so they didn't tell yeh? They couldn't make it tonight, so you're coming home with me. Might even be spending a few days, by the sounds of it."

I had been wrong—so very wrong. I most certainly could be unhappy, because what I was feeling could only be described as dread.

a/n Sorry this took me so long to get out! I feel awful that I am such a terrible updater. I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed, favorites, or alerted this story. It means a lot to me :)

I am not too sure how I feel about this chapter, and I would appreciate honest opinions. I realized as I was writing this that I have no idea how to write from the perspective of an 11-year-old. Or even a 13-year-old. I guess all of the Ravenclaws are a bit precocious? Anyway, thanks for reading, and I truly hope that you enjoyed!