Hey, everyone! It’s that time of year again and here is my gift that I wish to bestow. Merry Christmas, @lins-hogwarts-mystery I hope I did your MC justice.
A big thank you to @hphmsecretsanta2020 for organizing this again. I will always participate! Without further ado!
Clara Lin loved snow. The white powder of frozen ice crystals always held a special place in her heart since she was little playing in the fields of Oxford. At Hogwarts, Christmas time became that much more special. Even with the underlying horror cursed vaults, there was always time to celebrate the holidays in a merry fashion. This year in particular she and her friends agreed to stay behind and spend time together over the course of winter break.
And what better way to celebrate that than a snowball fight on Christmas Eve?
Charlie Weasley’s momentary triumph was silenced by Tulip’s double decker snowball smashing him in the side of the face, causing everyone else to laugh.
Staying behind were also Rowan, Penny, Barnaby, and Tonks who were all participating in the battle of winter circa 1989. Even Merula had skipped out on going home and though she and Clara would never be best friends, the two were amicable enough to have a snowball fight without getting too intense…mostly. They were on different teams after all.
The contest played out within the training grounds, so there wasn’t much cover to be had as far as trees or underbrush but then again magic could make up for lack of natural cover. On one side was something akin to a medieval castle, complete with five foot high walls, a drawbridge, and a flag. The other was a giant circular wall, good for combating attacks from all sides but vulnerable to a possible sir attack. In any case, standing up even for the slightest moment was unwise as Charlie found out first hand.
“She’s got good aim,” he muttered rubbing his cheek while dodging another projectile.
Clara couldn’t help but giggle. Even the person with the best reflexes amongst their Gryffindor brethren could be sniped by the cleverest Ravenclaw.
“Bombs away!” Penny yelled out hucking up a snowball into the cloudy winds of nowhere.
“Best to aim a bit first,” Rowan chided kindly as she adjusted her glasses while gathering more snow in her vicinity for the purpose of more ammunition.
“Merula’s team is eating our lunch,” Charlie lamented. “We need a new strategy.”
“Ooo!! I can help!” squealed out the tiny voice of Clara’s little sister, Emily, otherwise known as ‘Em’. She was five years younger but often associated herself with her big sister’s friends and refused to not be included in the festivities. A first year Hufflepuff, she was eager to help but lacked imagination.
“Keep firing as many snowballs as you can,” Rowan assured her again in an understanding tone that placated the little girl. “I think I have an idea.”
The teams were equally divided- Clara, Charlie, Penny, and Rowan on side while Merula, Tulip, Tonks, and Barnaby were on the other. Em was considered young enough (and insignificant enough to the female Slytherin) that her presence was not decisive enough to affect the outcome. But any competition featuring Merula Snyde guaranteed to be intense. After all a rivalry did not subside just because the two girls had formally agreed to work together in finding the cursed vaults.
“What would that be? Now would actually be a good time,” Clara observed as more snowballs skimmed the top of their fort. Charlie had to chuck a few more of his own to prevent Tonks from getting any closer.
“Simple. We use a freezing charm to turn one of our snowballs into a giant ice ball. I’ll use a propulsion charm to send it forward. With any luck their castle should come crumbling down and victory ours!”
“What the heck? I’m in!” Penny said excitedly over the noise, her rosy cheeks becoming apparent in the winter weather which was fast becoming colder in the later afternoon. Pink contrasted her light blue outfit (she was also the only one still wearing a skirt). Charlie’s Quidditch reflexes served him well but even he couldn’t overcome the odds of beating four other teengers surrounded by a full blown fort.
“I thought we weren’t allowed to use magic. Wouldn’t that be cheating?” Em asked, naive to the fact that no one adhered to that rule during a wizard snowball fight.
“Em, they’re using magic already,” Clara said bluntly, her practical nature coming into play already. She adjusted her glasses (being practically blind without them) and peeked out over the top and sure enough, saw the evidence needed to prove her accusation.
“Merula…I knew it,” she breathed out, frost emanating from her lips. “A banishing charm.”
“So that’s why those snowballs keep coming in so hot,” Rowan said, rubbing a gloved hand underneath her chin.
“And Tonks is using her metamorphagus ability to turn her nose into a trunk!” Charlie added, tossing another snowball back the other way and ducking down. “Bloody, cheater.”
“Then I say we hold nothing back,” Clara suggested.
“Sure that won’t be a problem with Barnaby?” Penny teased.
“He’s six foot three and can eat three turkeys in one setting, he’ll be fine,” the Gryffindor girl responded with a small blush trying to ignore feeling the pang of guilt at the idea of pelting him with snowballs. But there was no time to waste and when it came to December battles amongst the powdery, ice cream hills of Hogwarts all bets were off.
“Let’s do this,” Rowan remarked. Taking out her wand and removing one of her gloves, she summoned one of the snowballs while the rest their magic to summon snow from the ground to steadily grow it to the size of a grapefruit, spinning like the back wheel of a car, glistening in the glowing pink light of the evening sky.
“Now it’s really time for bombs away,” Penny giggled fond of muggle sayings.
“Oh I’d say so,” Rowan grinned mischievously. “Once that thing blows open their fort wall, Clara you and Charlie charge forth and win the battle.”
“What should I do?” little Em asked, still eager to help.
“Just keep throwing snowballs with Penny and Rowan, okay?” Clara ordered. She was quite protective of her sister even in light hearted situations such as these. Besides, despite being the most practical of the group the sixteen year old carried a competitive streak of her own.
At Clara’s command, Rowan muttered the necessary incantation and sent the massive ice ball at top speed towards their adversaries. Such was the speed, it had no trouble bursting through their castle with such force that it did exactly as Rowan foretold.
“CHARGE!” Charlie howled above the din as he and Clara rushed forward dodging strikes issued by their opponents, weaving and somersaulting in and out before performing an attack of their own.
“Eat snow! Take this!” Clara laughed as she struck Tulip and then fired another shot at Merula which caught her straight in the face (she never tired of one upping the Slytherin girl). But when wheeling around to do the same to Barnaby she came upon a strange sight. Her boyfriend didn’t seem to have his heart in the friendly competition at all. On the contrary, handsome, chiseled features were flat and carried a degree of melancholy unusual especially on Christmas.
My love, what’s the matter?
But before Clara could drop her snowballs and inquire further, someone beat her to the punch as a powerful burst of white exploded in the face of the burly Slytherin.
“Yes!” Charlie Weasley yelled out triumphantly. But Clara was not out of danger just yet, in her hesitation a projectile just missed the back of her head and only because Barnaby moved her out of the way just in time.
“Merula!” he said crossly. “Come on, don’t cheat.”
“Speak for yourself,” the Slytherin witch said with equal disdain. “We said no magic and yet here we are.”
“You broke the rule first,” Charlie argued.
“Right like you wouldn’t have done the same.”
“Enough,” Clara cut across the cacophony of argument which was reaching a boiling point. “It’s getting dark. Let’s go back inside.”
Her insistence, as well as her leadership qualities over the group won over as the magically flying snowballs ceased and even Merula despite her snarling, gave in to logic though it was apparent from the look on her face she would have continued given the opportunity.
“Fine, Lin,” she said with a shrug that failed to hide its competitiveness.
Whistling over, Clara signaled to Rowan, Penny, and her sister that the fight was over but that was not the end of the drama. Looking back towards Barnaby, the sadness etched on his face had not dissipated in the slightest.
“Are you okay?” she asked kindly, mittened hands interjoing for a brief moment before Barnaby pulled away.
“You sure don’t look fine.”
Barnaby was much better at hiding his emotions than a certain other Slytherin and gave a smile that would have seemed natural were it not for the previous circumstances.
“Don’t worry about me, Clara. We have a whole Christmas ahead of us. And pudding!” he added excitedly.
The childlike enthusiasm that normally enraptured her would have normally worked, but being the sensible Gryffindor she was (a rarity in the house of the brave) could tell this was not the entire story. Nevertheless, she did not press further…for now.
She was given an affectionate kiss before the group trudged back to the castle as the light decreased and the day drew to a close. Even holding hands walking to the entrance felt oddly out of place.
“Good match, Clara Lin,” Tulip said with a wink. “See ya tomorrow for the feast.”
“Bye, Clara!” Penny waved cheerfully as she descended towards the basement and thereby the kitchens.
With the exception of her housemates and sister with whom she shared a common room, everyone waved a hearty goodbye but her boyfriend did not say anything other than giving a quick kiss on the forehead before lumbering off quickly behind Merula. How ironic it should be that the youngest among them should voice aloud her suspicions.
“Barnaby seemed sad,” Em mentioned as they approached the fat lady.
“Hm?” Clara asked, not expecting such a comment from her eleven year old sister.
“He kissed you but not the usual way,” came the innocent response. “Maybe he’s homesick.”
“Barnaby’s fine, I’m sure of it. If he says so, I believe him.”
“Do you believe everything I’ve told you.”
Clara rolled her eyes at her little sister.
“It’s different with siblings, Em. You’re just lucky mum told me to let you tag along.”
“I didn’t need to tag along to know your boyfriend didn’t wanna throw snowballs.”
At this conjecture, Rowan gave the password (Festum Maximus) but not before the remark caused Clara to pause for a brief second before continuing into the common room. She knew Barnaby and would be aware of any personal problem or grief he had within his psyche.
———————————————————————————
Clara briefly forgot about the snowball fight after sharing some hot cocoa with Charlie and then some brief but good natured gossip with Rowan. The two girls discussed all manner of things as they usually did- presents, family, relationships, and what they would wear to the feast the next day however fancy or casual. But soon the warm and coziness of their dormitory overtook them and without fuss or fanfare fell asleep into the soft snows into the night, falling down silently within the December darkness.
By morning, however, the same excitement came upon them both as light permeated through the stained glass windows. The snow had since ceased, but a fresh layer of powder brought more excitement to an otherwise extremely white Christmas. And presents were waiting.
“Race you down!” Rowan said with a laugh as she bounded out of her bed, blue robe flying behind her.
“No you don’t!” Clara shouted back.
It wasn’t long until they were opening presents of which there were many laying under the tree. Charlie was already one step ahead of them, a blue Weasley sweater with a large ‘W’ inscribed on the front courtesy of the kindly Mrs. Weasley whom Clara had acquainted with by now.
“Happy Christmas, Clara!” the redhead said cheerfully.
“Happy Christmas to you too, Charlie.”
“You two seem to have quite a few gifts. Don’t hold back on my account,” Charlie said with a good natured chuckle and waggle of the eyebrows.
Neither of the girls did. Trying to be sensitive to the fact that her best male friend (aside from her boyfriend) did not come from wealth, Clara and Rowan opened their presents slowly and with a degree of caution. The latter came from a naturally wealthy family due to the success of their tree farm while the former, not rich by any stretch of the imagination, still accrued enough gifts to acquire a sizeable load- treacle fudge from Hagrid, a Gryffindor Quidditch scarf from Charlie, a cookbook from Em (‘haha’ she thought sardonically given her lack of skill in making cuisine of any type), a red dress from Penny hand stitched, a new mug from Rowan, further sweets from Mrs. Weasley, and a book on Chinese Mandarin from her parents, no doubt to further education as a potential ambassador like they wanted. Annoying, but even so Clara knew her parents loved her all the same despite their flaws.
After an hour or so she thought that all of her presents had been opened until Rowan flipped her one last gift, missed originally from the large pile.
“It’s from Barnaby,” she explained.
Of course! How could I have forgotten?
Clara hoped he had enjoyed his gift down in the dungeons (Newt Scamander’s latest book on creatures) but had not yet detected his own token of gratitude. It was actually quite small- a little rectangular box no bigger than ten centimeters wrapped in red and green paper with sparkles topped with a golden bow. All in all the decoration by itself was impressive.
Opening up, her jaw almost dropped.
It was a moving photo of Clara and her family before Jacob disappeared. Everyone appeared radiantly happy but there was reason for it. Right away she discerned that this was the photo she’d given Barnaby three years at the end of their third year before parting ways. A wave of nostalgia hit her as she witnessed her parents smiling and waving, Jacob’s tepid nervousness at what he was about to face, his younger sister giving a gigantic hug, while little Emily sucked on a pacifier, blissfully content in doing so. The meaning was not lost on the sixth year Gryffindor: a time when her family had been happy and unspoiled by the loss of a child. The photo was framed in silver and carried a heartfelt note.
May your family always guide you even in the darkest of times.
Wiping her eyes, Clara looked up towards Rowan and Charlie who had also noticed the scene.
“This was so beautiful,” she spoke quietly.
“Aw, hun,” Rowan comforted sitting beside her, embracing the fireside. “You know he’d do anything for you.”
“I’m wondering…maybe Em wasn’t so crazy. What if he really was struggling with something and I ignored him?”
“You’ll see him at the feast,” Charlie reasoned, playing with a dragon toy Bill had given him from Gringotts. “And I’m sure he’ll love how much you appreciated the gift.”
Clara supposed that might be true but she couldn’t help but feel something was amiss. Either way, her cursebreaker instincts would be put to the test in finding out the truth. Barnaby never held back from her. He was always jolly and upbeat, why should this holiday season be any different?
I just hope I’m not too late….
The Hogwarts feast was as grand as it always was- twelve enormous fir trees decorated with an array of colorful ornaments decked the halls, wreaths, mistletoe, and holly hung from the ceiling in a wide array of patterns. Along the tables belonging to each house lay a smorgasbord of dishes- roast turkey, mashed potatoes, sprouts, chicken, green beans, pudding, treacle tart, and so much more. The kitchen pulled out all the stops and Professor Dumbledore sitting at the head of the staff table gave his stamp approval, his blue eyes twinkling with holiday joy.
“To the many few who opted to stay behind for our voluptuous feast I say- tuck in.”
Charlie roared with approval as he ravenously delved into the goodies with Clara and Rowan not far behind. It didn’t take long for the rest of the group to show up- Penny, Tulip, Tonks, etc. They were the only one among the sixth years that had stayed behind with a mere handful of younger students hanging around awkwardly by themselves. The teenage Gryffindor would have given more thought to them were it not for the fact that she was anticipating a certain someone.
“Have you seen, Barnaby?” she would ask every time a new guest sat down at the Gryffindor table (it didn’t matter who sat where at this point). No one knew. Her sister remained blissfully unaware of course by the time she arrived, bragging about how many presents received that year.
Though trying to enjoy the scrumptious feast at hand, Clara couldn’t but look up every so often or so for her boyfriend…which by Rowan’s calculations was every five minutes.
“You’re not even eating,” came her best friend’s admonishment. “Relax, he’ll be here.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“He can eat more than the rest of us combined. Why would he miss the opportunity?” Charlie reasoned.
“The feast is his favorite part of Christmas,” Penny said, reaching across and squeezing Clara’s hand.
Despite the kindly reassuring of her friends, it wasn’t until Clara caught a flash of green that she truly began to seek out answers. Unfortunately, the green sweater did not belong to a burly man of about 190 centimeters but of a Slytherin girl recognized as her greatest rival (and pest at times). Merula joined their table without fanfare but right away everyone could tell there was something amiss. Far from being a ‘friendly’ person you could always count on a sarcastic or snarky remark from Merula Snyde. Not so this time around.
“Lin. I think you need to go see Barnaby,” she stated bluntly, getting straight to the point.
The table immediately ceased eating at this development, not that Clara had consumed much beforehand.
“What?” she asked, dumbfounded.
“Are you deaf, Lin? The bighead isn’t even interested in eating and that’s saying something…” she huffed in frustration knowing sensitivity wasn’t her strong suit and tried to deliver the news more amicably. “Just see him, okay? He doesn’t want to talk to anyone else.”
Were this their first year, the amount of trust in Merula would have been below that of a snake. But five years later, she would not have informed Clara of something that delicate were it not of serious importance. They were collaborative rivals after all…not bitter enemies. At least not anymore.
“Where is he?” came the simple question.
“In the courtyard freezing his arse off. Just…don’t let him do anything stupid. More than he already does.”
Clara wasted no time in getting up from the table. She didn’t even bother to look back at the reactions her friends may or may not have had. The hunch of the previous day had been right…but she’d fail to recognize it. For Merlin’s sake even little Em could tell. What was so deficient within herself that her own boyfriend stood out on Christmas alone in the cold?”
“Sis?” Em called out but it was no use. She was out of the Great Hall before anyone could say so much as ‘Doris Crockford.’
—————————————————————————
It didn’t take long for Clara to reach the desired destination. So frantic was her pace, there was barely time to button up her jacket, pull on her black knit gloves and hat, while also adjusting her hair into its usual long ponytail. But none of that mattered. Personal comfort could be foregone in the face of a significant other suffering needlessly. Numerous anxious thoughts raced through the brain upon the approach, seeing that he was dressed in a dark brown jacket, jeans, a blue and red hat with a puffball on top complete with calf level brown boots.
Something was wrong…something was wrong and I didn’t bother to ask. I just assumed. What if I made him upset? What if he wants to break up?
“Calm yourself, Clara,” she admonished herself. “Barnaby wouldn’t hold back anything from you.”
Despite that attempt at reassurance, it didn’t do much for her nerves. That being said, a Gryffindor did what was necessary in spite of fear. For better or worse, this Christmas conversation had to occur. For Merlin’s sake, even Merula knew when something was off. But the analytical mind wouldn’t let the issue go until she found out what plagued him so.
“Barnaby!” the cursebreaker said in a tone that fully betrayed her anxiety. “Merula told me you were out here. Is everything okay?”
“Did you like your present?”
The simple reply, a question to a question. In fact she was so taken aback by it, words failed her for a brief moment.
“I-uh….yes. Of course I did, but that’s not the reason I came out here.”
She took both his hands in hers, noting just how much taller he was in situations like these. It took quite the effort to kiss him but the primary concern lay with the heart- underneath the archway of the west aqueduct in the courtyard, twinkling white crystals winking in the late early morning sun. Both of their breaths resonated but only one had trouble looking the other in the eye.
“Was my present not what you wanted? I know you’re interested in being a Magizoolist but if there was something else I could get you instead…”
A finger pressed against her rosy, red lips.
The question, being repeated twice became a source of puzzlement now.
“Barnaby I already told you I loved it. It’s not often I get to see a picture of my family whole like that…” she paused, narrowing her eyes but not unkindly. “Why?”
“If you’re happy that’s all I care about on this special day.”
“But if you’re not, how can this day be special?” Clara countered. “Please…don’t keep me out. What’s wrong. Merula sees it and so can I.”
There could be so many explanations as to why her boyfriend was upset. But this wasn’t a cursed vault where a keen, undiluted mind could be put to the task in finding it. It didn’t require analytics, but empathy.
Barnaby stuffed mittened hands into the pockets of his jeans, turning his head to the side.
“I…I thought if you could realize how important your family is to you maybe it might help…with mine,” he breathed out.
“What do you-oh…” Clara said, letting out a soft sigh of realization. “Your dad.”
“He yelled at you again in a letter.”
“Clara,” the sixteen year old Slytherin said sharply though the aim of his emotions was not directed towards her. “He didn’t send me anything this year. Nothing.”
It took a second for the Gryffindor to sink that in her brain.
“Our relationship has been bad for awhile. But at least he sent me presents. Heck, he liked that I was good at fighting and eating. I love both those things.”
“You’re more than just a fighter and an eater,” she soothed in a soft tone, rubbing his arm. “You know that.”
“I do,” he said, still not looking directly at her. “But with me constantly disobeying his wishes and taking my own path in life…it makes me realize my family has always been rubbish. Those presents were only under the three if I did what he said…and the wrapping paper was always lousy!” he added.
Clara had an inkling of what her boyfriend’s life was like but not much beyond a few short stories and traumatizing incidents he never liked to discuss. But to be cut off completely well that was news to her. And it wasn’t fair.
“Sweetie, listen,” she told him, wrapping her arms around his strong neck. “It’s not your fault.”
“But it is. If I had just…” his voice cut off now unable to say anything more beyond potential crying and Clara could see tears welling up in his eyes. “I-If I can’t have my family, you should at least appreciate how amazing yours is.”
“Shhh,” she said, rocking him in a tone she used whenever he became upset. Being a member of the frog choir and an excellent singer, it helped calm her boyfriend. And now was the perfect time.
All is calm, all is bright
The muggle tune was one she knew growing up and read from one of her mother’s books at university. Given that it was Christmas time, the moment felt quite appropriate. Slowly, she grabbed his left hand and led him around the courtyard as if they were dancing, feet crunching in the snow in a soft ballad until they stopped below a string of mistletoe that hung in one of the archways.
Upon the ending of the song, she wiped the stream of tears from his cheeks.
“You always have a family in me,” Clara said, adjusting his scruffy, brown hair underneath his hat. “And you’re the greatest gift a girl could ask for.”
Slowly and with such tenderness that the loving couple melted into each other like a marshmallow into a cup of hot chocolate, they kissed.
“Merry Christmas, Barnaby Lee.”
The Slytherin grinned back, picking her up by her waist and swinging around and dipping her forward as if she were a princess. All tears were gone and regret washed away by the spirit of the season.
“Merry Christmas, Clara Lin.”
