Even though my friends and I seemed to be in a state of depression, in the rest of the castle, the usual magnificent Christmas decorations had been put up, despite the fact that hardly any of the students remained to enjoy them. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe were strung along the corridors, mysterious lights shone from inside every suit of armour, and the Great Hall was filled with its usual twelve Christmas trees, glittering with golden stars. A powerful and delicious smell of cooking pervaded the corridors, and by Christmas Eve, it had grown so strong that even Scabbers poked his nose out of the shelter of Ron's pocket to sniff hopefully at the air.

On Christmas morning, I threw my pillow at Hermione to wake her up.

"YO! HERMY! IT'S CHRISTMAS!" I screamed at her.

"I hope you bought me earmuffs" she said as she covered her ears.

Mrs. Weasley had sent me a Green sweater with a Willow tree knitted on the front("hell yeah!"), also a dozen home-baked mince pies, some Christmas cake, and a box of brownies.

I opened a container of heart shaped lollies from George and began to eat them instantly.

"Isn't it a bit early for that?" Hermione said as I ate.

"Never too early for sugar!" I said happily.

"Holy crap, you're going to go ballistic."

"BABY! I WAS BORN BALISTIC!"

"God, kill me now."

We continued opening presents and laughing before we put our dressing gowns on and headed to the boys dorm.

She was carrying Crookshanks, and I was carrying Soxy.

"Oww! He bit me!" I complained at Soxy. "watch yourself, or I will turn you into a sock."

We walked into the boys room and they were laughing like me in Lupin's office.

Haha no.

But they were laughing.

"What're you two laughing about?" Hermione asked.

"Don't bring him in here!" said Ron, hurriedly snatching Scabbers from the depths of his bed and stowing him in his pyjama pocket.

I couldn't help thinking he would have been safer in the bottom of his bed, but you know, I really couldn't give two shits about that rat.

That thought was long and now I can't remember what it was about.

Hermione dropped Crookshanks onto Seamus's empty bed and stared, open-mouthed, at something.

Holy shit it was a firebolt.

"THATS A REALLY GOOD BROOM!"

Thanks for clarifying Lucy.

"Shut up."

No you shut up.

"What are you? Twelve?"

They say I'm thirteen, but I reckon it's a lie.

"What the hell."

"Oh, Harry! Who sent you that?" Hermione said breaking me from my mental argument.

"No idea," said Harry. "There wasn't a card or anything with it."

Hermione did not appear either excited or intrigued by the news. On the contrary, her face fell, and she bit her lip.

"What's the matter with you?" said Ron.

"I don't know," said Hermione slowly, "but it's a bit odd, isn't it? I mean, this is supposed to be quite a good broom, isn't it?"

Ron sighed exasperatedly.

"It's the best broom there is, Hermione," he said.

"So it must've been really expensive..."

"Probably cost more than all the Slytherins' brooms put together," said Ron happily.

"Well...who'd send Harry something as expensive as that, and not even tell him they'd sent it?" said Hermione.

"Who cares?" said Ron impatiently. "Listen, Harry, can I have a go on it? Can I?"

"I don't think anyone should ride that broom just yet!" said Hermione shrilly.

Harry and Ron looked at her.

"Oh my god! I understand what Hermione is saying!" I said excitedly.

Note to self: no sugar before breakfast.

"What d'you think Harry's going to do with it -- sweep the floor?" said Ron.

But before Hermione could answer, Crookshanks sprang from Seamus's bed, right at Ron's chest. Hmm, I think the bed would have been safer.

"GET -- HIM -- OUT -- OF -- HERE!" Ron bellowed as Crookshanks's claws ripped his pajamas and Scabbers attempted a wild escape over his shoulder. Ron seized Scabbers by the tail and aimed a misjudged kick at Crookshanks that hit the trunk at the end of Harry's bed, knocking it over and causing Ron to hop up and down, howling with pain.

Crookshanks's fur suddenly stood on end. A shrill, tinny, whistling was filling the room. The Pocket Sneakoscope had become dislodged from Uncle Vernon's old socks and was whirling and gleaming on the floor.

"I forgot about that!" Harry said, bending down and picking up the Sneakoscope. "I never wear those socks if I can help it..."

The Sneakoscope whirled and whistled in his palm. Crookshanks was hissing and spitting at it.

"You'd better take that cat out of here, Hermione," said Ron furiously, sitting on Harry's bed nursing his toe. "Can't you shut that thing up?" he added to Harry.

Hermione and I stormed off with Crookshanks and Soxy.

Christmas spirit was definitely thin on the ground in the Gryffindor common room that morning. Hermione had shut Crookshanks in her dormitory, but was furious with Ron for trying to kick him; Ron was still fuming about Crookshanks's fresh attempt to eat Scabbers. Harry had devoted himself to examining the Firebolt, which he had brought down to the common room with him. And I sat in front of the fireplace humming to myself and stroking Soxy's fur.

At lunchtime we went down to the Great Hall, to find that the House tables had been moved against the walls again, and that a single table, set for twelve, stood in the middle of the room. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick were there, along with Filch, the caretaker, who had taken off his usual brown coat and was wearing a very old and rather mouldy-looking tailcoat. There were only two other students, one extremely nervous-looking first year and a sullen-faced Slytherin fifth year.

"Merry Christmas!" said Dumbledore as we approached the table. "As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the House tables...Sit down, sit down!"

We all sat down side by side at the end of the table.

"Crackers!" said Dumbledore enthusiastically, offering the end of a large silver noisemaker to Snape, who took it reluctantly and tugged. With a bang like a gunshot, the cracker flew apart to reveal a large, pointed witches hat topped with a stuffed vulture.

I remembered to Boggarts and laughed out loud. Snape's mouth thinned and he pushed the hat toward Dumbledore, who swapped it for his wizard's hat at once.

"Dig in!" he advised the table, beaming around.

As I was helping myself to roast potatoes, the doors of the Great Hall opened again. It was Professor Trelawney, gliding toward us as though on wheels. She had put on a green sequined dress in honour of the occasion.

Sexy.

"Sybil, this is a pleasant surprise!" said Dumbledore, standing up.

"I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster," said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest, most faraway voice, "and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness..."

"Oh wow, I predicted the same thing!" I muttered to Hermione. She smirked and nudged me to shut up.

"Certainly, certainly," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "Let me draw you up a chair --"

And he did indeed draw a chair in midair with his wand, which revolved for a few seconds before falling with a thud between Professors Snape and McGonagall. Professor Trelawney, however, did not sit down; her enormous eyes had been roving around the table, and she suddenly uttered a kind of soft scream.

"I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!"

"We'll risk it, Sybil," said Professor McGonagall impatiently. "Do sit down, the turkey's getting stone cold."

I smiled broadly thinking random Willow things.

Professor Trelawney hesitated, then lowered herself into the empty chair, eyes shut and mouth clenched tight, as though expecting a thunderbolt to hit the table. Professor McGonagall poked a large spoon into the nearest tureen.

"Tripe, Sybil?"

Professor Trelawney ignored her. Eyes open again, she looked around once more and said, "But where is dear Professor Lupin?"

"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," said Dumbledore, indicating that everybody should start serving themselves. "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day."

"But surely you already knew that, Sybil?" said Professor McGonagall, her eyebrows raised.

Professor Trelawney gave Professor McGonagall a very cold look.

"Certainly I knew, Minerva," she said quietly. "But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous."

"That explains a great deal," said Professor McGonagall tartly.

Professor Trelawney's voice suddenly became a good deal less misty.

"If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him --"

"Imagine that," said Professor McGonagall dryly.

I was trying very hard to contain myself and Hermione kept stamping on my foot to make me stop.

"I doubt," said Dumbledore, in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, which put an end to Professor McGonagall and Professor Trelawney's conversation, "that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?"

"Yes, Headmaster," said Snape.

"Good," said Dumbledore. "Then he should be up and about in no time...Derek, have you had any of the chipolatas? They're excellent."

The first-year boy went furiously red on being addressed directly by Dumbledore, and took the platter of sausages with trembling hands.

As the conversation was awkward, I decided to speak.

"So! How is everyone? How are you Professor Dumbledore?"

"I'm good, How are you?"

"I'm rather dandy!" I half lied. To be honest I felt kind of blue, but shhh, no one needs to know. "Professor Snape, how are you?"

The look he gave me, you might as well have thought I told him to go and get laid!

"I'm fine." Snape sneered at me.

"Well that's amazing!" I said cheerfully. "Professor McGonagall! How are you today?"

"I'm feeling slightly worried...about the mental health of a particular student." She responded.

"Who is that student?" I asked even though I knew the answer.

"You."

"Thought so. You shouldn't worry professor, my mind left me years ago!"

Everyone looked as though this should be something to worry about, but they didn't say anything.

At the very end of Christmas dinner, two hours later we were all full to bursting with food and still wearing ourr cracker hats. Harry and I got up first from the table and Trelawney shrieked loudly.

"My dears! Which of you left his seat first? Which?"

"Dunno," said Harry, looking uneasily at me.

"I doubt it will make much difference," said Professor McGonagall coldly, "unless a mad axe-man is waiting outside the doors to slaughter the first into the Entrance Hall."

Even Ron laughed. Professor Trelawney looked highly affronted.

"Yeah, I don't think-"I coughed and clutched my heart. My eyes rolled back into my head and I heard everybody gasp. I half collapsed onto Harry.

"She stood up first!" Professor Trelawney said in shock.

Everyone, Including McGonagall was afraid for me. I coughed again and stood up properly.

"KIDDING!" I shouted at them all.

Harry and Ron face palmed. Hermione looked as though I was too stupid for words. Dumbledore was smiling. Trelawney looked like she was either going to kill me or die of shock but she hadn't decided which. McGonagall was too at a loss for words. Snape gave me that hateful look that suited his face so well.

"You are quite possibly the stupidest person I have ever met." Hermione said looking at me.

"But you love me!"

"Shall we go?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded.

"Coming?" Harry said to Hermione and me.

"No," Hermione muttered. "I want a quick word with Professor McGonagall."

After the boys left, Hermione looked extremely awkward.

"How do we get her on her own?" Hermione mumbled to me.

"Excuse me professor McGonagall, could Hermione and I have a word."

"Certainly." She replied, but she remained seated.

"Privately." I added in.

She smiled in spite of herself and then led Hermione and I out into the hall.

"What did you want to tell me?" She asked.

Hermione explained all about Harry's Firebolt.

"And It didn't say who bought it for him so I thought-"Hermione said

"That Sirius Black might have bought it for him." McGonagall continued.

"Exactly." Hermione and I said in unison.

We walked to the Gryffindor common room with McGonagall and Hermione and I hid ourselves behind books.

"So that's it, is it?" said Professor McGonagall, walking over to the fireside and staring at the Firebolt. "Miss Granger and Miss Tree" - HA! THAT SOUNDS LIKE MYSTERY! - "have just informed me that you have been sent a broomstick, Potter."

Ron and Harry glanced their eyes in our direction, and I realised that the book was upside down.

Smooth Willow, Real smooth.

"May I?" said Professor McGonagall, but she didn't wait for an answer before pulling the Firebolt out of the boys hands. She examined it carefully from handle to twig-ends. "Hmm. And there was no note at all, Potter? No card? No message of any kind?"

"No," said Harry blankly.

"I see..." said Professor McGonagall."Well, I'm afraid I will have to take this, Potter."

"W -- what?" said Harry, scrambling to his feet. "Why?"

"It will need to be checked for jinxes," said Professor McGonagall. "Of course, I'm no expert, but I daresay Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick will strip it down --"

"Strip it down?" repeated Ron, as though Professor McGonagall was mad.

"It shouldn't take more than a few weeks," said Professor McGonagall. "You will have it back if we are sure it is jinx-free."

"There's nothing wrong with it!" said Harry, his voice shaking slightly. "Honestly, Professor --"

"You can't know that, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, quite kindly, "not until you've flown it, at any rate, and I'm afraid that is out of the question until we are certain that it has not been tampered with. I shall keep you informed."

Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and carried the Firebolt out of the portrait hole, which closed behind her. Harry stood staring after her, the tin of High-Finish Polish still clutched in his hands. Ron, however, rounded on Hermione and me.

"What did you go running to McGonagall for?"

Hermione and I threw our books aside.

"For your own safety!" I shouted at him.

"Oh what? Because you're so skilled with a broomstick, and I would hurt myself on it cause I don't know what I am doing?" Harry snapped cruelly.

Admittedly, I was kind of confused, but I figured he was going for an insult.

I think I'm just retarded.

"Well!" Ron said impatiently.

"Because we thought -- and Professor McGonagall agrees with us -- that that broom was probably sent to Harry by Sirius Black!"