Light Holidays at Hogwarts

You awoke to a small pile of presents on Christmas morning. Your usual holiday gift from the Ministry was clothes which - to them - meant they wouldn’t have to spend additional funds on clothing you over the course of the year. And while the Ministry gift was notably absent this year, you were pleased to see an assortment of differently shaped and tastefully wrapped gifts. The Ministry probably figured that you could buy your own clothes now that you had access to the money in the Gaunt Vault at Gringotts.

The passing Potions grade was a pre-Christmas gift for your Slytherin year mates. But since you had gained a reputation over the first term as ‘the lucky Chocolate Frog guy’ it seemed like a fairly simple and straight-forward idea to send most of your year mates a small bundle of Chocolate Frogs. You made a point of not signing your gift for Daphne to create an extra bit of fun. It was a simple, harmless mystery that the curious girl could solve by simply asking around.

You got an assortment of sweets from the vast majority of them in return. Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum from Pansy, Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans from Daphne and Tracey, Ice Mice from Blaise, Jelly Slugs from Crabbe and Goyle, and Theodore Nott had apparently been listening when you mentioned your fondness for Sugar Quills. There was enough candy to last you through the holiday break and into the new term.

Millicent and Draco were the two exceptions from the sweet exchange. You got your roommate and fellow Quidditch reserve a Practice Snitch and it appeared that he had been thinking along the same Quidditch-themed lines because his gift contained a pair of quality Keeper gloves that looked and felt a great deal better than the school ones you had been using during Quidditch practice. They certainly fit better. Hopefully, they’d be up to the task of protecting your precious potion-making hands when Flint’s brutal practices started up again next term.

As for your fellow troll slayer, after doing some subtle probing and learning that Millicent - A. was a Gilderoy Lockhart fan and B. didn’t have that particular novel - you felt it amusing and appropriate that you got her Travels with Trolls.

But that felt horribly inadequate when you opened the flat rectangular package Millicent sent you. It contained a simple framed photograph of a witch. She had coal black hair that fell to the back of her shoulders and smokey grey eyes that held a dangerous spark of fire in them. She had a stocky, powerful build and you watched as she crossed her arms under her chest and gave smoldering glare. But then her expression changed and your breath caught in your throat when you recognized her smirk as the same one you saw whenever you looked in a mirror. You knew right away that the imposing witch in the picture was none other than Octavia Bulstrode - your mother.

You felt tears burning in the corner of your eyes as you reached down and softly stroked the framed photo. For so long all you had to go on was a name. You didn’t even have that when it came to your father. But now you were finally looking upon the face of your mother. She wasn’t quite what you expected but it was, at long last, one more piece for the incomplete puzzle that was your mysterious birth.

Millicent included a note so you hastily wiped your eyes and picked it up.

‘Dear Marvolo,

I asked around about your mother and was able to get this from the family.

Here’s what I was able to find out: Octavia Bulstrode was a pureblood witch, born on October 24th 1953 to Marshall Bulstrode and Primrose Bulstrode nee Parkinson (I’ll leave it up to you whether or not to tell Pansy). She started at Hogwarts in September 1966 and graduated June 1973. Her wand was a sturdy 10 inches made from ash with a dragon heartstring core. You may be amused to know that she shared your fondness for fire spells.’

You fought off a bittersweet smile as each new detail painted more of a picture of the witch whose photograph was resting in the box on your lap.

‘This next bit is hard to say and may be hard for you to hear but a true friend tells the truth… even when it’s uncomfortable. Octavia Bulstrode was a **** Eater. During the First Wizarding War, she used her fire spells to burn buildings… and some of the people inside them. She died in an Auror strike team ambush on April 20th 1981.

I hope this can at least answer some of your questions and give you some closure.

Happy Christmas,

Millicent’

It felt like a heavy weight was on your chest. Like a deadly serpent was coiled around your heart. You knew that your parents both died during the First Wizarding War but you never really stopped to consider what side they died on. In hindsight, it should have been glaringly obvious. Your prized ancestor Salazar Slytherin was known as one of the most closed-minded and traditional wizards when it came to blood purity. Marvolo and Morfin Gaunt were so devoted to keeping their bloodline pure that they became demented madmen. And then, of course, there was your genocidal Dark Lord of a cousin who shall remain nameless. Considering all that, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that your mother was a **** Eater. And if she was a **** Eater, then it was extra likely that your mysterious father - the one who was actually blood-related to the aforementioned blood purists - was also a **** Eater.

You let out a long sigh. Learning that your own mother was a terrorist and likely a murderer put a damper on your holiday spirit. A part of you wondered if you would have been better off not knowing. It would’ve been simpler and less devastating to remain ignorant of your mother’s true nature. But… ignorance wasn’t a valued trait among Slytherins. It was better that you found out early on rather than have someone drop the revelation on you at a later date and use it as a weapon against you. And like Millicent said, now you at least had some closure on the matter. This latest addition to your family legacy did nothing to change the fact that you came from one of the darkest families in wizard history. Your mother was now another family member that you had to set yourself apart from in order to restore your family legacy.

In the interest of getting your mind off of such depressing topics, you set your mother’s picture aside and turned your attention to your final present. It was a long cylindrical tube. There was a tag attached to it.

‘To my favorite Hogwarts Keeper,

Happy Christmas

Gemma Farley’

You smirked upon reading the note but then you remembered who you inherited that smirk from and settled for a small grin instead as you set about seeing what the Perfect Prefect got you. After learning that Gemma was a Stinger you made a point to get her a Wimbourne Wasps banner as a thank you for all the help she’d given you over your first term.

Your small grin quickly blossomed into a wide smile when you opened the tube and pulled out a large roll of paper which you unrolled to reveal that it was a Blythe Parkin poster. Your favorite professional Quidditch player gave you a cheery wave as she stood sideways and surfed on her broom while wearing her pale blue Tutshill Tornados robes.

Since you were such a die hard Blythe Parkin fan, you were quickly able to deduce that your gift from Gemma was the current season’s promotional poster. The first tip was that Blythe wasn’t wearing her signature leather helmet that she wore to prevent wind resistance during matches. Instead, the Tornados’ Seeker’s short, spiky, dark hair blew in the poster’s depicted breeze. The broomstick she was surfing on was your second tip. It was the white Nimbus Two Thousand that Blythe started flying on at the start of the 1993 season of the British and Irish Quidditch League.

As you stared down at the poster, you thought about why Blythe was your favorite Quidditch player. She came from a long line of Quidditch players that dated back to Scottish wizard and butcher Walter Parkin whose seven children founded the Wigtown Wanderers Quidditch Team in 1422. The Parkin Family had deep Scottish roots that led to Ethan Parkin who played Chaser for the Wigtown Wanderers and represented Scotland in the 1992 Quidditch World Cup where he made it all the way to the final match against the eventual winners -- Team Canada.

The current generation of Parkins consisted of Ethan Parkin’s three sons - two of whom were reserves for the Wanderers and the third who wasn’t a Wanderer but just got signed to play for Scotland’s Montrose Magpies - and his two daughters. The younger of the two was seventh year Ravenclaw Skye Parkin, the current Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team, who had gone from Chaser to Seeker for her final year playing Quidditch at Hogwarts.

And then there was Blythe, who stood apart from the other Parkins as the rebel of her Scottish family by playing for an English Team. Despite being born in Scotland and coming from a rich Scottish legacy, Blythe moved to England to fully commit to playing for the Tornados. This resulted in her facing some serious scorn when she played away matches in Scotland for Scottish fans who booed her as a traitor to her birth country and claimed she was throwing away her family legacy. But when the Tornados played at home, Blythe was lauded as a trailblazer and a hero who wasn’t tarnishing her family legacy but building a whole new chapter upon it as she guided the Tornados to victory after victory in the League. It was those same fans who were pushing for Blythe to represent England in the 1996 Quidditch World Cup.

That was what you needed to do. You cast another glance over at your mother’s picture but then turned your attention back to Blythe Parkin. You needed to do as Blythe did and set yourself apart from your family of dark blood purists and murderers and forge a new legacy. Maybe you’d face similar scorn from the old traditional families but you wouldn’t mind if it meant creating a new reputation that you could be proud of.

“Hey there, Blythe,” you greeted your favorite Quidditch player who gave a silent laugh as she broom-surfed around the borders of her poster. “I know just where to put you. Right on the wall next to my bed.”

You set about putting up your new Quidditch poster in the blank bit of wall in between your bed and the window over your and Draco’s back-to-back desks that looked out into the Black Lake. You looked over your shoulder at the door and realized that the spot would allow you to see the Blythe’s poster every time you walked into the room. It was perfect.

Your eyes were drawn to the wrapped bottle sitting on your desk as you stood there admiring your new poster. There was one last Christmas present give out and, after Blythe Parkin had brightened your mood, it seemed like the Christmas Feast was the perfect time to do just that.

But the feast wasn’t until later. You left your room and took note of how empty the Slytherin common room was. Everyone seemed to be having a lie in on Christmas morning. Your house was the one where the vast majority of students came from prominent magical families so many of your housemates opted to go home for the break and spend the holidays with those aforementioned families.

Two other first years opted to spend the holidays at Hogwarts so you went across the hall and knocked on their door. It didn’t take long for the door to be pulled open which revealed that the two boys were both awake and still in the process of opening their presents.

“Morning fellas!” you called out with a wave, “Happy Christmas! And thanks for the Jelly Slugs!”

“Happy Christmas,” Goyle replied from where he stood near you by the door.

“Thanks for the Chocolate Frogs!” Crabbe added from further in the room. The candy wrappers scattered around the floor told you that the duo had been eating their gifts after unwrapping them.

Gregory seemed to think the conversation was over and let go of the door to return to his pile of presents. You stepped forward and blocked the door and causally leaned against it while staying in the doorway. It was odd to have Crabbe and Goyle around without Malfoy. “Er… tell me, why did you guys decide to spend the holidays at Hogwarts instead of home with your families?”

You vaguely remembered the two laughing when Draco was mocking Harry about not having a family that wanted him home for the holidays. You happened to be in earshot and made a point of clearing your throat and their mocking laughter immediately stopped. It still seemed hypocritical though. You grinned to yourself when you realized that they likely didn’t even know what that word meant.

“The feast!” Vincent answered excitedly, “My Da told me it’s the best one of the year aside from the Welcome Feast, the Leavin’ Feast, an’ the Halloween Feast. The food’ll be much better here than what we’d have at home.”

“Yeah, we want to be here,” Gregory explained, “I’ve been lookin’ forward to the Christmas Feast since Halloween.”

“Ah, well, that explains it then,” you reasoned. Crabbe and Goyle were always big eaters. It went quiet for a moment so in an effort to be decent company and a good conversationalist you came up with another topic. “Er… speaking of food, I see you two got mostly snacks for gifts. Did you get anything particularly interesting?”

“Mum and Da sent me a new set of Gobstones,” Vincent replied.

“Same,” Gregory grunted. Maybe their parents went shopping together? “But everybody else got us candy.”

“Not that we’re complainin’!” Vincent chimed in before he tossed a Chocolate Frog into the air then caught the whole thing in his mouth. “Wha’ b’t ‘oo?”

“I got my fair stare of sweets too,” you responded after taking a second to mentally translate the muffled question. “But my favorite gifts were the ones that weren’t candy. Gemma Farley got me a Blythe Parkin poster and Millicent sent me a picture of my mother Octavia Bulstrode.”

“Oh, right, I keep forgetting you two’re related,” Gregory recalled.

“The circum... “ you trailed off and remembered you were talking with two students who didn’t share your vocabulary. “Most of the information about my unusual birth was buried by the Ministry. I managed to wheedle out my mother’s name a few years back.” Your Serpent’s Gaze was involved there. “I still don’t know who my father is and he’s the actual descendant of the Gaunt line. But now I at least have a picture and a face as well as some other details to go with my mother’s name. I’ll admit that she’s not quite what I imagined but she feels like an actual person now… even if she was a **** Eater.”

“You mean an ‘accused’ **** Eater,” Crabbe corrected you once he swallowed his frog.

You blinked and realized that Crabbe and Goyle both had fathers who were ‘accused’ **** Eaters but had managed to get off. Much like Lucius Malfoy. Their parents likely drilled the ‘accused’ bit into their heads before they left for Hogwarts.

“Well… she died in a raid by an Auror strike team and was likely wearing **** Eater robes at the time,” you responded, “No real way to fight accusations at that point.”

“You uh… okay with that?” Gregory questioned.

“I’m coming to terms with it,” you admitted with a grim nod, “As descendants of Salazar Slytherin, my family always had a strong stance on blood purity. It shouldn’t surprise me that includes my mother too.”

Something suddenly flew at you. Your Keeper instincts kicked in and you managed to catch it before it hit you in the face. You opened your hand to reveal the Ice Mouse that Vincent just chucked at you. It appeared as though Blaise got Crabbe and Goyle some Ice Mice too.

“No sad faces on Christmas!” Crabbe called out.

“Thanks,” you said with a wry grin after the surprisingly thoughtful move. “Let me know when you guys are done unwrapping and we can break in those Gobstones sets of yours out in the common room.”

You left the room and felt like a snake as you dangled the little candy mouse over your mouth by the tail and then dropped it in. A cold sensation filled your mouth and you grinned as your teeth started to chatter and squeak. Crabbe was right. Even if you learned that your mother died as a war criminal, there was no sense in being grim or sad on Christmas.

And miracle upon miracle, it turned out that Crabbe and Goyle were right about another thing… the Christmas Feast was AMAZING!

A hundred fat, roast turkeys, platters of boiled potatoes and buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce, and stacks of wizard crackers covered the tables.

“Wow, when you’re right, you’re right,” you remarked as you entered the Great Hall with Crabbe and Goyle behind you. You imagined this was what it felt like to be Malfoy with the two large boys following him around all the time. It made you feel oddly empowered and especially important to have an entourage. You spotted Harry sitting with the four Weasleys at the Gryffindor Table. You reached into your pocket and fingered the wrapped bottle. “You guys go sit down and enjoy the Christmas Feast. I have one last present to give out.”

You parted ways with your fellow Slytherins and headed for the Gryffindor table. “Potter, Weasleys, Happy Christmas!” you called out in greeting upon reaching them. You blinked for a moment and realised that Harry was wearing a green jumper with an ‘H’ sewn into the front that matched the ones the four Weasleys were wearing. “Nice jumper, Potter. Loving the green.”

“You would,” Ron grumbled. His face fell as he looked down at his own maroon jumper.

“What’s got you in such a grumpy mood?” you inquired.

“Ron’s just pissy that his Weasley jumper is maroon again,” one of the twins spoke up. He had a ‘G’ on his jumper but, knowing the Weasley Twins’ reputation for playing tricks, this in no way confirmed that he was actually George.

“Just like it is every year,” the other twin, who had a fifty-fifty chance of being Fred, added.

“Well, here’s some holiday perspective for you,” you offered, “At least you lot have a mother who cares enough to knit you all handmade jumpers.” Your criminal terrorist of a mother probably would’ve used the extra wool to start a fire rather than knit you a jumper out of it. “And in the spirit of that, I come bearing a gift for my fellow war orphan.”

You plopped your wrapped bottle down in front of you then slid it across the table to Harry. He caught the bottle while you sat down on the bench beside the Weasley Twins which left you sitting across from Harry, Ron, and Percy.

The Weasleys looked on as Harry unwrapped the bottle of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion. The three younger Weasleys seemed like they were wondering if your gift was an insult or not. But you saw recognition in Percy’s eyes.

“A hair potion?” Harry questioned with a skeptically raised eyebrow as he self-consciously ran a hand through his messy jet black hair. “Really?”

“It’s just the thing to tame that untidy mop of yours,” you explained with a knowing grin. His reaction told you that none of the Gryffindors informed him about his Potter heritage which was why you chose that particular gift. “Read the bottle... ‘Two drops tames even the most bothersome barnet’.”

“I hate to break it to you, Gaunt,” Harry said, “But my Aunt Petunia spent most of my early life battling my hair. I think you can guess who won. This one time she even went way overboard and shaved all my hair off except my bangs. I went to bed worrying that everyone would make fun of me at school the next day. But I guess I did some accidental magic overnight because in the morning it had all grown back like the haircut never happened.”

”Ah, but did your muggle aunt ever use magic on your hair?” you asked. “I know for a fact that this potion will work. You could say it was created specifically for unruly Potter hair since it was invented by your grandfather Monty Potter.”

“Wait what?” Harry sputtered. “Who?”

You looked over at Percy. “Do you wanna tell him? I doubt he’d believe me if I told him.”

Percy nodded and pushed glasses up his nose while Harry and his three younger siblings all turned to him for an explanation. “It’s actually Fleamont Potter. His unusual first name is his grandmother’s - the former Lady Fleamont’s - surname. Fleamont Potter was a skilled potioneer and, as Gaunt said, his main claim to fame was inventing the Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion. It’s an extremely popular potion that witches and wizards from all around the world use to style their hair for formal settings -- or just to tame it in some cases. He ran the Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion company for close to forty years during which he quadrupled the Potter Family’s holdings. I believe Sleekeazy’s is manufactured in China now.” Percy paused and seemed to notice that Harry was hanging on his every word so he lowered his voice and told the orphan more of what he knew about his grandfather, “He was married to Euphemia Potter and they had your father, James Potter, later in life when Fleamont was in his fifties. He eventually retired and sold the company for another hefty profit. So if you ever wondered where the galleons in your Gringotts vault came from... Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion is the answer.”

“Sounds like there’s a ton of money in being an inventor,” one of the twins mused with an almost unnaturally thoughtful expression on his face.

“Or at least being a successful one,” the other twin added. His expression was unsettling and made you nervous about being on the bench next to him.

Harry looked a lot more appreciative of his present now that he knew the history behind it. “Wow… thanks, Marvolo.” The usage of your first name in place of a more stiff and distant ‘Gaunt’ told you that your gift was a winner.

“I’d say there’s no harm in testing it out while most of the school’s away,” you suggested. “And if you end up liking it, you could try writing a letter to the Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion Company and tell them that. Who knows? They might send you a bunch of it for free. That potion is your family legacy and I can’t think of a better UK marketing strategy than having Harry Potter using the Potter Family hair potion.”

“Blimey Harry!” Ron exclaimed, “That’s probably why they named you Hair-y!”

It was after everyone had a good laugh at the name Hairy Potter that Percy chimed in.

“Actually, Harry was most likely named after his great-grandfather Henry Potter,” the Gryffindor prefect explained. “He was called ‘Harry’ by his friends much like Fleamont was called ‘Monty’. Henry Potter was a politician and served on the Wizengamot for eight years.”

“The what?” Harry asked.

“The Wiz...en...ga...mot,” you repeated the odd four-syllable word for the muggle-raised wizard’s benefit. “It’s the wizard equivalent of parliament and the high court. Henry Potter was known for being famously pro-muggle. He caused a controversy when he publicly criticized Minister for Magic Archer Evermonde when he forbade wizards from getting involved in the muggles’ First World War.”

“How do you know all this?” Harry wondered.

“Family and blood carry a lot of weight in Slytherin,” you stated. “You can count on almost anyone wearing a green and silver tie to be able to trace their family back at least three generations. Well… those of us who actually know their family anyway. You’re lucky the Potters were such a prominent light family. I’m starting to realise why my family history was hidden by the Ministry. Everything I uncover about my relatives paints them in a darker light.”

You frowned as you briefly reflected on what you learned about your mother. “Anyway, that’s my last Christmas present delivered,” you resolved as you stood up, “Happy Christmas, Gryffindors.”

“You don’t have to go, Marvolo,” Harry offered uncertainly, “You can stay here... if you want.” He seemed to notice the weird look that Ron was giving him. “What? Would you want to spend the Christmas Feast with Crabbe and Goyle?”

“Er… I supposed not,” Ron admitted, “Go ahead, Gaunt. It’s Christmas.”

“Thanks,” you replied as you sat down with an easy shrug. “Red and green and all that.” You pulled a plate over and reached for a tray of food… only to see a rat and yank your hand back. “What the… You let your rat eat at the table?”

“It’s Christmas and Scabbers is family,” the youngest Weasley boy defended his pet.

“Not very hygienic,” you pointed out as you reached for a tray that was rat-free. The combination of the twins sitting at the table, your comment about colors, and Ron’s pet rat made you think back to the train ride to Hogwarts and Ron’s failed spell to make Scabbers more interesting. “Oh! Hey! Do you still want to turn your rat yellow?”

“You mean he really tried it?” one of the twins asked with a Christmas-worthy grin.

“What’s the matter, Ronnikins, couldn’t get the spell to work?” the other teased him.

“You berks gave me a dud spell!” Ron complained.

“Actually… I managed to figure it out,” you informed him. You waited a beat and then asked, “Wanna see?”

Harry, Ron, Fred, and George all looked skeptical. They all knew it was a fake spell. Percy hadn’t been in the compartment during on the train ride but he likely knew enough about his twin brothers’ penchant for tricks to deduce what happened.

“Go ahead,” Ron said. He pushed Scabbers’ tray toward you knowing full well that the spell was a fake.

You stood up and drew your wand. Obviously, your plan was to use the Colour Change Charm. When you added in your crash course on the Wiggenweld Potion, you likely cast the spell over fifty times since you learned it back in November. But this would be your first time trying it on a living thing as all your previous attempts were on inanimate objects. You still needed to figure out how to cast it on a liquid and this seemed like a suitable challenge as you worked toward that goal. You managed to turn a mouse into a snuffbox last term in Transfiguration so you figured turning a rat yellow with a versatile charm wouldn’t be too much more complicated.

Scabbers was barely awake and didn’t seem to know about the brightly coloured fate that soon awaited him. You stared at the rat and studied it from the tip of his long worm-like tail to the tips of his crinkled whiskers, and then you analysed the details like the pattern of the rat’s gray fur and the shape of its paws - one of which was missing a toe.

“Well?” Ron prompted after you stood there staring down at Scabbers for a good ten seconds.

“Don’t rush me,” you chided him. “You see, the part where you went wrong is that you didn’t visualize the change properly. It’s a three step process: first, you need to study what you want to change, next, you need to picture the color you want it to change, and finally, you need to picture your target turning that color. I’m going with the canary yellow of the Hufflepuff Quidditch robes.”

You pictured the yellow of Tamsin Applebee’s Quidditch robes and then you pictured Scabbers’ gray fur turning that yellowy color. You intended to leave his tail and paws as they were. You tapped your long fifteen inch wand on the table and gave it a dramatic, showy wave then cleared your throat and called out the silly, made-up incantation for the benefit of the Weasleys watching.

“Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,

Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!”

And then you turned away from the twins and whispered ‘Colovaria’ under your breath as you cast the actual spell.

There was a loud, alarmed squeak as Scabbers gave a jolt… and suddenly a canary yellow rat lying on the golden food-filled tray.

“Tah-dah!” you cheered as you admired your handiwork.

“BLOODY HELL!” Ron blurted out as he dragged the tray with his yellow pet toward him.

The twins jumped up and joined Ron in prodding at the yellow rodent. “He’s really yellow!”

“How’d you do that?” one of the shocked Weasleys demanded.

“Magic,” you answered with a smug grin.

Percy remained in place and regarded the yellow rat for a moment then grinned to himself and made a point of not telling his three younger brothers what you did.

Scabbers managed to wriggle free from the prodding by the Weasley boys. The rat seemed to realise that you were the one responsible for his new fur color and turned to glare at you with its beady, black rodent eyes.

“Looks like Scabbers didn’t appreciate your spellwork,” Harry pointed out with an amused chuckle.

No longer lazily snacking, the rat was now wide awake and looked like it was a second away from biting you. But you still had your wand in your hand so you let out a hiss of Parseltongue at the angry yellow rat. §Make a move, yellow-belly!§

Scrabbers gave a terrified squeak at your snake-like hissing and bolted across the table then leapt off it into Ron’s lap.

“Scabbers!” Ron yelped as he clutched his trembling yellow rat then glared at you in his pet’s defense. “What was that!? Did you just threaten to eat him!?”

“No, it was--” you started to protest when Harry interrupted you.

“It sounded more like he was teasing him to me.”

“That was Parseltongue, Harry! I told you before, it’s something only Dark Wizards use! For all we know he was cursing poor Scabbers!”

Harry flinched and went silent.

The good cheer at the table evaporated and was suddenly a lot more tense. The twins had gone quiet and Ron and Percy were giving you looks that were borderline hostile. You vaguely remembered Ron saying that Scabbers used to be Percy’s rat. And it looked like Ron’s earlier claim that Scabbers was family rang true with the Weasleys because you suddenly felt decidedly un-welcome at the Gryffindor table. That’s what you got for speaking Parseltongue in front of non-Slytherins.

“I was only fooling,” you insisted before you decided to bid a hasty retreat and fled from the lion’s den for the safety of the snake pit. You made a point of facing away from the Gryffindor table as you sat down across from Crabbe and Goyle at the Slytherin table. But you could still feel the glares being sent at your back.

Gregory and Vincent had occupied themselves during your visit to the Gryffindors by each attempting to eat an entire turkey on their own. And people wondered why they were in Slytherin. That was certainly an ambitious undertaking.

“Whuh wazzat?” Vincent asked through a mouthful of turkey.

“I gave Potter a bottle of his family’s hair potion,” you quietly explained. “The Gryffindors haven’t told him about his heritage. Which is a travesty, in my opinion. But things went sideways when I turned Ron Weasley’s pet rat yellow and hissed at it in Parseltongue. Apparently, the Weasleys consider that rat family and didn’t like me threatening one of their family members.”

“Weasels and rats are both rodents,” Gregory pointed out with a sage-like nod as if that explained everything.

You frowned and resolved to give the Weasleys a wide berth for the rest of the holidays.

Happy bloody Christmas.

“Oi, we’ve been over this!”

You blinked in surprise and looked over at an annoyed Crabbe. “No sad faces on Christmas.” He reached his long gorilla-like arm across the table and offered you the end of a Christmas cracker.

When you pulled the other end, a loud cannon-like blast reverberated around the table and the three of you were covered in a cloud of blue smoke. When it cleared three live, white mice went scampering across the table and you found yourself holding a Pirate Captain’s Tricorn.

You laughed and placed the pirate hat on your head. “Thank, Vince.”

“OI! Get away from the food, you little git!” Gregory exclaimed as one mouse was drawn to the delicious smelling platters near him.

“I’ve got this,” you volunteered. If you learned anything over at the Gryffindor table it was that rodents were especially terrified of Parseltongue. You eyed the mice and let out a loud hiss. §FOOD!§

The three mice let out squeaks of sheer terror and leapt off the table and fled like a monster was after them.

“What’d you say to ‘em?” Gregory wondered.

“Food,” you answered.

Goyle let out a loud belly laugh. “My favorite word. Do it again, I wanna learn that one.”

You weren’t sure what to expect when you first learned that you’d be spending Christmas with Crabbe and Goyle. But if absolutely nothing else, the two large boys were chock full of Christmas spirit and they made you feel accepted in a way that the Gryffindors hadn’t.

Another loud cannon blast rang out from the other side of the Great Hall. You looked back in time to see Harry put on the Admiral hat he’d gotten from his own Christmas cracker.

The symbolism there was blatantly clear.

He was a Navy Admiral. You were a Pirate Captain.

He was a Gryffindor. You were a Slytherin.

Light. Dark.

You tried to mend the gap between you but once again you failed. There was no sense in letting it ruin your Christmas. You shrugged and returned to the feast in front of you.

Marvolo Gaunt House Point Ledger

Current Total: +61

Points awarded by: SS, RH, QQ, MM, FF