Puzzle Pieces

Section 13:

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the hallways and dormitories of Hogwarts, not a creature was stirring. Instead, we were all making a great deal of noise from where we were piled inside the Great Hall, where you could find every living creature in residence, and a sizeable portion of the dead, as well. Nearly Headless Nick was visibly disappointed that he would not be able to take place in the upcoming battle, and was making up for it by telling harrowing ghost stories to the lower years who had stayed behind for the holidays.

There weren’t many younger years around, thankfully. Without ever actually saying anything outright, Dumbledore managed to get the message out that this, of all years, would be an excellent time for Hogwarts students to spend with their families, far away from school. Only three dozen or so students remained, and most of them were upper year members of Potter’s redoubtable Dumbledore’s Army. The only younger years present were students who literally had nowhere else to go; they were all Hufflepuff and Ravenclaws who had been orphaned by the latest Death Eater raids. Slytherins and Gryffindors had, not surprisingly, taken care of their own and seen to it that all orphans went home with friends. The only Slytherins in attendance were Pansy, Draco, and myself, while the only non-seventh year Gryffindors were other-Weasley and the shutterbug Creepy brothers, following around Potter, as usual.

Of course, students weren’t the only ones in the Great Hall. In addition, all the Hogwarts professors, past and present (with the exception, of course, of Quirrell, Lockhart, and Umbridge) were there, having secretly snuck back from their holiday plans so they could help, and two dozen Aurors were in attendance as well, including a cousin of Draco’s I had never met before whose hair was a very festive red and green, with what looked like tinsel coming out of her ears.

This was Hermione’s plan, explained to Dumbledore when she dragged us to his office after Draco’s confession, and perfected over the past week, during which Draco, Hermione, and myself had been nearly inseparable, going over every step and every piece of the puzzle countless times. The Death Eaters expected to take on a handful of professors and a dozen or so students caught completely off guard. They were in for a rather unpleasant surprise.

At some point that night, Lucius would send his eagle to Draco to signal the beginning of the raid. The focus of the plan was to break into Gryffindor tower so they could get Potter (who I would probably have to start calling Harry soon, since Hermione was so bound and determined to make all of us get along). When the three emergency exits were opened, one group (including Voldemort himself who was breaking all protocol by going along on this one to *personally* make sure that Potter died) would go directly to the Gryffindor tower, another would go to the professor’s wing, making sure that there was no interference from that quarter, while the third group would be expressly dispatched to keep Dumbledore occupied.

According to Draco’s reports from his father, the Death Eaters, with their typical arrogance, expected, at most, token resistance from the few undertrained students staying in Gryffindor Tower for the holiday, and a handful of sleepy professors. Even the group attacking Dumbledore directly was confident in their victory since the headmaster would be greatly outnumbered and caught completely off-guard. When they actually entered, however, they’d find the professor’s hallway full of wide awake, fully prepared professors and half a dozen Aurors. Another half dozen Aurors along with Dumbledore himself would await them in Dumbledore’s office. A full dozen Aurors, along with the students who elected to fight, would face them in Gryffindor tower.

That had, in fact, been the point of contention for most of the week. Initially, Dumbledore wanted to evacuate all students and leave the fight solely to Aurors and professors. Potter flatly refused. I was there in Dumbledore’s office when he faced down the headmaster, and no matter what Draco says, I’ll never be able to completely detest Potter ever again after the speech that he made. He insisted on his right to fight Voldemort in defense of the only real home he had ever known. He reminded Dumbledore that he would have to face down Voldemort sooner or later, and that he wasn’t going to hide in some safe house when he had the chance to *end* this for once and for all. Eventually, Dumbledore gave in, and once Potter had permission to fight, the rest of his foolhardy friends insisted on joining in as well, bringing along their families as well. I never knew there were so many Weasleys. It seemed like a red head popped up everyone one looked. It was dizzying to say the least, but to their credit, they all seemed to be in excellent spirits as they bounced around the Great Hall. The twins, in particular, seemed bound and determined to make sure that everyone maintained the proper ‘Christmas spirit’ whether they liked it or not.

That had been one of Dumbledore’s conditions. The students could stay and fight, if they chose, but everyone would spend Christmas eve together, not huddling in the dormitories or professors quarters waiting with baited breath for the fighting to start, but joined together in the Great Hall with squishy purple sleeping bags that hadn’t been seen since third year when Sirius Black was on the loose, lots and lots of Christmasy food, and the largest Christmas tree I had ever seen in my life. When Lucius’ owl came, we’d go forth into battle. Until then, it was still Christmas, and Dumbledore wanted to make sure that no one forgot.

Of course, one of his ways of seeing to that was to stuff us all with sweets. I daresay I drank a lake of hot cocoa, and I lost count of the number of Christmas cookies after seven. Every time I looked around, an elf was pressed more food into my hand, Dumbledore’s orders. (I saw the ‘special’ trays going to the younger students. They were being dosed with sleeping potion. When the battle finally came, they’d stay in the Great Hall under a massive shielding spell while the rest of us went out to fight. Pansy had been dosed with the same thing in her lunchtime pumpkin juice. She was currently fast asleep in the Slytherin dormitory, and wasn’t scheduled to wake until breakfast time.)

Looking around at the rest of the room, I had to wonder if Dumbledore was drugging the rest of us, as well. I certainly never imagined that I’d be sitting by a Christmas tree with Draco and Gryffindor’s golden trio and *not* worrying about the prospect of a fight. (Of course, it helped that I was in love with one of the golden three, and that she had her two friends completely under her thumb, terrified of the consequences she had warned them of if they dared to so much as *think* of hexing Draco or me. Potter and Weasley, wise in the ways of Hermione, obeyed.) Potter and Weasley were cautious around me, and downright suspicious around Draco, but they kept their wands to themselves and were clearly on their best behavior, even though it was a visible strain.

Draco was on his best behavior as well, and I was starting to wonder if Hermione had him as thoroughly under her spell as she did the rest of us. Since his breakdown in the library, Draco’s attitude to Hermione had taken quite a change. Oh, he still loved arguing with her; I don’t think anything short of death would change that (and if he died first, I daresay he’d wait impatiently for her in the afterlife so they could argue again); but the harsh edge of distrust between the two of them had vanished completely. Once they learned to trust each other, they worked so well together, it was almost creepy. I became more convinced every day that Hermione was just what was needed to complete both Draco and myself. She fit us both so perfectly. Everything was better when she was around; even Potter and Weasley’s company.

I had to admit, they weren’t being too unbearable at the moment. They were wrapped up in a discussion of the Chudley Cannons (unquestionably the worst team in the league) which left Hermione free to chat with Draco and me. Or at least, free to *try* and chat. The Weasley twins had gotten in the habit of setting of noisemakers every time they thought the Great Hall had lost some of its ‘festive air.’ It made attempts at conversation just a bit difficult.

“Hardly a ‘Silent Night’ is it?” Hermione asked with a smile.

Draco and I looked at each other, bewildered. “What?” I finally asked.

“*Hardly a ‘Silent Night’*!” she shouted, thinking we hadn’t heard her. We had, we just didn’t understand.

“Why should it be a silent night?” Draco asked.

Hermione looked at him with an expression of shock. “It’s Christmas Eve!” she replied, as if the answer was obvious. “Like the Christmas carol, ‘Silent Night’?” she elaborated when it was obvious we were still confused.

Draco and I shrugged. “If it’s a Christmas carol, then it’s no wonder we don’t know it,” Draco answered.

“Don’t you know any Christmas carols?” she questioned, visibly surprised.

Draco and I looked at each other and shrugged. “Why would we?” Draco asked. “Jesus Christ doesn’t hold much weight with us, you know. I’ve known the spell to walk on water since I was twelve, and multiplying fish is an O.W.L. level spell: fifteen year olds can do it. Why should we be impressed that a man in his thirties could pull it off?”

I nodded my agreement. “Some of the more old-fashioned wizarding communities don’t celebrate Christmas at all,” I added. “The only reason we make such a to do about it at Hogwarts is because so many of the students are muggle raised, and they expect it. Besides, can you see Dumbledore turning down the chance to celebrate a holiday focusing on candy, presents, and goodwill towards man?”

“Good point,” Hermione conceded.

“So how does ‘Silent Night’ go?” Draco asked.

“You… you want me to sing it?” Hermione stammered, blushing slightly.

“No, Granger, I want you to train a choir of house-elves to sing it to us,” Draco retorted sarcastically. “Naturally, I want you to sing it. How else am I supposed to hear it? Or don’t you know how to sing?” he taunted, goading her into it.

“Of course I know how to sing!” she replied defensively. “I was in the children’s choir at our church until I came to Hogwarts! But I haven’t sung in front of people in years, and I never liked singing alone.”

“No one’s listening but us,” I argued. “Sing it quietly, and no one will even notice in all this racket.”

“Alright,” she conceded, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. “Silent night,” she began quietly. “Holy night.” Her singing voice was soft and high and surprisingly sweet.

“All is calm, all is bright.” Looking over, I saw that Weasley and Potter’s conversation had halted as they turned to watch Hermione sing. Hermione, fortunately, didn’t notice, and continued singing.

“Round yon virgin mother and child.” Hermione’s voice grew a bit louder as her confidence grew, and a bit of a hush spread through the room as everyone stopped their conversations to listen. Even the Weasley twins stopped setting off their noisemakers, and the ones that were still active slowly died down. “Holy infant so tender and mild.”

“Sleep in heavenly peace. Sleep in heavenly peace.” Hermione’s voice trailed off softly on the last note, and her eyes fluttered open. She immediately turned bright red when she realized that the room had fallen silent to listen.

“Don’t stop,” Draco stated, breaking the silence. “It was nice. Keep going.”

Hermione started to shake her head, but stopped when Dumbledore’s voice was heard from across the room. “Yes, Miss Granger,” the headmaster added. “Please keep going. I cannot think of a better way to celebrate Christmas than with some caroling.”

“Do you know ‘God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen?’” a small voice piped up near us. Looking over, I recognized a third year Ravenclaw. The girl had been very quiet throughout dinner, and I overheard Hermione telling Harry that her parents had been killed in the last Death Eater raid. This was her first Christmas without them. “It was my father’s favorite,” she continued softly.

I couldn’t hide a small smile at the look on Hermione’s face. I could tell she wasn’t comfortable with the idea of singing in front of everyone, but at the same time, she was far too soft-hearted to say no to the girl.

“God rest ye merry gentlemen,” she began in a voice that quavered a bit, “Let nothing ye dismay. Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas day.” She paused a bit before going on to the next line. We all looked over in surprise when a quiet tenor voice joined in for the next part.

“To save us all from Satan’s pow’r when we were gone astray.” Potter, always the valiant friend, had started singing to back Hermione up. Surprisingly, the boy had a decent voice. Hermione smiled over at him. He smiled back at her, and they continued.

“O tidings of comfort and joy, Comfort and joy, O tidings of comfort and joy.”

“From God our heavenly Father a blessed angel came,” Dumbledore chipped in from the other side of the room, starting off the second verse.

“And unto certain shepherds brought tidings of the same,” a few Aurors chimed in.

“How that in Bethlehem was born the Son of God by name,” they all sang together. “O tidings of comfort and joy, Comfort and joy, O tidings of comfort and joy.”

By the time they reached the next verse, half the room had joined in. Apparently, anyone even partially muggle raised knew the words, and only the purebloods sat in silence. Well, the purebloods and the third year Ravenclaw, who didn’t join in, but listened in silence, with a contented smile on her face.

“‘Fear not,’ then said the angel, ‘Let nothing ye affright. This day is born a Savior, Of virtue, power, and might. So frequently to vanquish all the friends of Satan quite’; O tidings of comfort and joy, Comfort and joy, O tidings of comfort and joy.”

No wonder muggles enjoyed these carols so much, I mused. What a ‘comfort and joy’ indeed to think of a heavenly savior sent to earth to take care of all of our problems and lift away all of our burdens. And what irony that we’d sing about a savior the night before the battle between the wizarding world’s own, personal devil came to fight us all. I glanced over to Potter. He was the closest thing the wizarding world had to a savior. It was too much of a burden for anyone to have to carry on their shoulders. But he didn’t look burdened at the moment. He was smiling at Hermione, his best friend who had been there for him for so many years, and at the professors at the staff table (Hagrid had a rather overpowering bass and, apparently, a great fondness for Christmas carols), and at the room in general. I grinned a bit myself. With all these people helping our world’s savior, maybe we stood a chance at comfort and joy on Christmas day, after all.

“Now to the Lord sing praises, All ye within this place,” they concluded. “And with true love and brotherhood,” Potter and Weasley did the manly-punching-on-the-shoulder thing, “Each other now embrace; This holy tide of Christmas all others doth deface. O tidings of comfort and joy, Comfort and joy, O tidings of comfort and joy.”


End Section 13