Christmas 1996

December 21st, Saturday.

Loren returned from the Owlery with a pleased smile on his lips.

The parcel from Twilfitt and Tatting's had been delivered without issue. The gift box was a little oversized, though, and the courier who had carried it over such a long distance had been full of resentment. Loren had to pay double postage and feed it several strips of dried white rat meat on the spot before it calmed down.

Unfortunately, Hermione could not see the parcel just yet. After signing for it, Loren stuffed it into the pendant and headed toward the Castle, humming a tune.

The Entrance Hall was packed with young wizards heading home for the holidays. They stood beneath the steps, dragging their Trunks and craning their necks as they waited for the Thestral carriages. Neville stood at the back of the crowd in a gray trench coat that fell past his knees, smiling as he said goodbye to his friends. Two Trunks sat beside him—one was his own, and the other was Hannah's. He looked quite manly.

Hannah usually stayed at school, but this year was different. She had to go home for the Christmas feast at The Leaky Cauldron.

The Leaky Cauldron had not been lively in a long time. Like the furniture in the pub, Old Tom had aged rapidly once things grew quiet, his whole person steeped in the twilight of old age. Experienced old wizards understood that this was not a good sign.

Hannah's family was related to Old Tom, the pub's owner, and they planned to attend the gathering together this year and make it properly lively.

Seamus and Dean stood before them, grave-faced, and solemnly instructed him, "Neville Longbottom, remember this: you are not going home just because you want to reunite with your family.