Troll: 41. Feeling that Holiday Spirit

Preface

Is a reward for an omake someone threw together. Now my backlog's really shot. Hmm... In the interest of encouraging more people to write, I'm willing to keep this up. Chapter-length omake for a chapter seems fair. Cheaper than a commission, right?

Bonus points if you actually manage to make me laugh.

Chapter 41: Feeling that Holiday Spirit

Violet Potter
Hogwarts, Great Britain

It was Christmas. I got up, looked outside, and marveled at the blanket of white that covered the castle courtyard. I’d never had that before. It snowed in London, but only in sad, slushy waves of sleet that were a pain to walk through. Never like this, never so pristine.

Parvati and I had the girls’ dorm to ourselves, though not all of Gryffindor Tower. The Weasleys stuck around as well, something about their parents visiting their older brother in Egypt. That sounded pretty cool, but unleashed the twins upon an empty castle, free to plot and scheme. Percy, the overly serious prefect, looked like he’d pull his hair out.

I got up and almost tripped over a box. Several boxes. Several colorful boxes. With glittery ribbons wrapped in pretty bows. It took me several seconds to recognize what I was looking at:

Presents.

I had presents.

The thought hit me like a hammerblow, as foreign to me as a nundu in the London Underground. I’d never gotten one before. And no, the “pet rock” my fatass cousin threw at me when I was eight didn’t fucking count.

My chest felt tight. There was a small stack at the foot of the bed, undisturbed but for my accidental kick. There were almost twenty of them, each proof of friendships I’d made this year. They gleamed like little gems, more precious for what they represented than what they contained: I wasn’t alone anymore.

I forgot about my morning routine. Next thing I knew, I was on one knee, looking through the little nametags on the ribbons. Parvati and Padma. Nevile. The quidditch team. An unsigned package. And two from Blaise, because he apparently had to be a special little snowflake, even with gift-giving. There was even one from Daphne, which made me wonder if I should have gotten one for her, too.

I tackled Parvati. She was still in bed, the only one I could reach right now. I’d never considered myself a touchy feely kind of girl, but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t know how to put my feelings to words so I chose to crack her ribs. That was probably the same thing.

“Urk! V-Vi? Air…” she gasped in pain.

“Good morning, Parv,” I said with a watery smile. I sat up so I was straddling her. “And Merry Christmas.”

“M-Merry Christmas to you, too. Geez, I didn’t think you were the festive type.”

“I guess I’m feeling the holiday spirit.”

“Sure, now get off. I need to brush my teeth.”

“Yeah,” I laughed sheepishly, shuffling off her. “Breakfast first, then gifts?”

“Yup. We can catch Professor McGonagall then, ask her if we can bring Padma to our dorm for the day.”

“Sounds good.”

X

“I don’t know why everyone’s so gung-ho about the dorms,” I grumbled as I climbed the stairs with Parvati and Padma. It took a whole fifteen minutes of begging for McGonagall to cave. “It’s not like there’s anything special about Gryffindor Tower.”

“It’s tradition,” Parvati said. “At least Padma isn’t a Slytherin. Can you imagine? Although, I guess there’s one Slytherin I wouldn’t mind letting into the common room. Definitely not our dorm, though.”

Padma snorted softly. “He probably already knows what all the dorms look like. He’s implied as much before.”

“He did? When?”

“He sometimes likes to slip me notes in transfiguration with the answer to the day’s riddle when I’m feeling too tired to bother.”

“Oh, right. You ravens have to answer a riddle to get into your own tower.” Parvati made a face. “Ew, that sounds like such a pain.”

“It is. But yeah, he probably knows where our towers are. I’m not sure about the Hufflepuff dorms, but that’s only because he doesn’t have any friends there. If he really wanted to know, he could probably find out in a few minutes.”

“He knows,” I told her. “There was that time he took Parvati and I to the kitchens. Remember, Parv? We met Greengrass there.”

“Oh, yeah,” Parvati nodded with a teasing look towards her twin. “We skipped the flobberworm fritters that night.”

“I still can’t believe you didn’t take me with you,” Padma glared. “So much for the bonds of sisterhood.”

“Hey, I told you where the kitchen was that weekend!”

“And? I still had to eat flobberworms. You know how disgusting they are. Oh, wait, you don’t, because you ditched me, your twin!”

I placed an arm around the sisters. I loved them to bits, but they could bicker for hours if I let them get started. “Come on, you two. Don’t fight on Christmas. Besides, didn’t Parvati promise you could choose the menu for tonight? She helped you bribe the kitchen elves.”

“She did… But that was mostly Blaise’s cookbooks. We didn’t bribe them.”

“Parvati still gave up menu-rights.”

I could see her try to stay grumpy, but it was futile. She’d been looking forward to a feast of all her favorite Indian foods for days now. “Oh, fine, but only because it’s you.”

We huddled up in the first year girls’ dorm. Our gifts were gathered in the middle so that we could take turns opening them. Compared to my friends’, my pile of presents looked downright tiny. They were much more sociable than I was.

“Most of these are from our cousins in India,” Padma said, almost apologetically.

“That’s not it,” I assured her. I looked at the pile awkwardly. “I’m just wondering if I should have sent people from the study group a gift. I hadn’t realized I was supposed to. Or the quidditch team. Or Greengrass.”

She leaned over and began looking through the gifts. “Let’s see… Susan, Hannah, Zach, Terry, Mandy…. Oh, these are all from pureblood or older half-blood houses.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s manners. You know how purebloods are way too uptight about their family legacies?”

“Yeah…?”

“Well, that also includes relationships. You know, house alliances and stuff like that.”

“Wait, so these are all meant to be some kind of networking thing?” I frowned. I didn’t like that. Christmas should be more… honest.

“No, of course not. It’s not like they’re Slytherins. I’m saying that this was how they were raised. Because alliances matter a lot in the magical world, so do relationships, and grudges. People tend to be polite. It’s not a rule or anything, but when in doubt, most people would prefer to err on the side of caution.”

“Uh-huh…”

“Watch, I bet they’re all just chocolate frogs or something. You know, just a polite, ‘We’ve met and I haven’t forgotten you.’”

“Should… Should I have sent them something?” I asked her hesitantly. It’d be late, but… “I feel bad now.”

“Eh, it’s not that big a deal,” Parvati chimed in. “Just mail order some chocolate frogs for when they get back if you want, but no one will mind too much.”

I picked up Daphne’s gift. It looked about the same as the other obligatory ones. “How about the one from Greengrass? We’ve barely even met. Why is she sending me candy?”

The twins rolled their eyes in sync. “Because she’s a Slytherin. She’s probably the sort to take this stuff seriously and really does think of it as a big networking thing.”

I opened it and, sure enough, there was a brief letter written in flowing cursive that was neat enough to be called art. It introduced her, where we met, and even what we talked about. The tone was casual, but the effort involved definitely wasn’t nothing. “So what do I do about it?”

Padma sighed and took the gift. She perused the letter and gave it back. “Yup, about what I expected. She’s trying to be your friend.”

“This is how she makes friends? It sounds like a cover letter for a job interview.”

“And is probably the only way she knows how to make friends. Remember back before the sorting, when Malfoy tried the same thing?”

“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot about that. Wow… I really don’t know what to say to this.”

“It’s up to you, Vi. I mean, she’s probably trying to use you, but…”

“But everyone’s trying to use me,” I finished for her. Blaise liked to tell me that, and that included him. “That’s just the nature of relationships. When you don’t mind being used, it’s called friendship.”

“You’re paraphrasing Blaise, but he’s not wrong. Anyway, he was the one who introduced you two, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then she’s probably not a bad person. Again, if you like her, then reach out next semester.”

“Maybe I will…”

Parvati growled and snatched a big box from the pile. “No. No more griping about silly customs. Presents now, angst over your social awkwardness later, Vi.”

I couldn’t help it. I chuckled and picked out a box for myself as well. “Fine, let’s do this. I opened one already so Parv, then Padma?”

“Yup.”

We began opening our gifts. Padma was right; most of the smaller ones were candy, quills, ink bottles, or some other bit of stationery. I also got a box of high-end owl treats from Nevile, a broom polishing wax from the twins, and a book on seeker tactics from Oliver.

Parvati and Padma got me a warm scarf and a pair of mittens. They were a fashionable beige-white, and easily the softest things I owned. The hems had been decorated with gold and bronze flowers, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw colors.

“Hope you like them, Vi,” Parvati said, yanking me into a hug that was soon joined by her sister. “I know the violet’s a bit on the nose, but–”

“I love them,” I said. I’d never meant anything more in my life.

I finally got to opening one of Blaise’s gifts. The smaller box, because it said I should start with that. It came with a letter in Blaise’s elegant handwriting.

“‘These are not your gifts,’” I read. I opened the box to find thick, winter socks made of high-quality wool. They didn’t look like they’d fit me. “‘Still, keep them on your person at all times. And remember, a quirk of the magical, four-eyed goat is that he can be bribed with a pair of warm socks.’”

Parvati giggled as she read over my shoulder. “Oh, wow, he left you a riddle.”

“Of course he did,” Padma muttered, eyes rolling like pinballs. “He can’t help it, the smarmy prick.”

I laughed and nudged her shoulder. “Blaise wouldn’t be Blaise if he didn’t include something like this.”

“What’s his other gift?”

“Hmm?” I gave it a light shake. “No sounds. I guess it’s about the size of a book? It’ll probably be a book on pureblood manners with a note that just says, ‘Educate yourself, peasant.’”

“Maybe. Open it and see.”

“Yeah, one sec… I was right; it’s a book… Mind Your Mind: An Occlumency Primer… What’s occlumency?”

Both twins stiffened nervously. It was subtle, but I knew their tells by now. Parvati gave me an awkward smile, like my old school’s nurse did when she taught me how to use tampons. Padma refused to meet my eyes.

“Guys?” I asked again. “Blaise didn’t send me something weird, did he?”

“Not weird per se,” Parvati said softly. “Occlumency is the mind arts.”

“Half of it, at any rate,” Padma added.

That got me to sit up straight. “Wait, mind arts? Like mind reading? Or mind control?”

“No, mind reading is legilimency, and mind control as muggles know it is an unforgivable curse called the imperio. It’ll land you a lifetime in Azkaban. Occlumency is the other half of legilimency, the art of shielding your own mind from intrusion.”

“That sounds really important. I didn’t even know magic was capable of that.”

“That might be on purpose. Hogwarts doesn’t teach the mind arts. As far as I’m aware, none of the major magical schools do.” Before I could ask, Padma preempted my question. “It’s because the best way to teach someone to shield their mind is to enter it. Like I said, legilimency and occlumency are two halves of the same coin. You can imagine how uncomfortable it could be to have a teacher in your head.”

I thought about it. Professor McGonagall was alright, but did I trust her in my mind? Maybe… She was strict, honest, and fair. She also didn’t seem like she’d ever talk about anything she saw there. Then again, the thought that someone else would know about how the Dursleys treated me made me queasy.

Or, what about Snape? It wasn’t like I trusted every teacher equally. I shuddered. That sounded violating in a way that made vomit rise to the back of my throat.

“Okay, but even if it’s not taught, shouldn’t students know about it?”

Parvati shook her head as her sister began to flip through the book. “No, that’s not a good idea. Practicing without someone to guide you isn’t exactly going to end well. This is your mind, remember? You only get one of these. Don’t mess with it.”

“This still sounds way too important to ignore. Do… Do either of you know the mind arts?”

“If you’re asking whether we’ve ever been in your head, no. We don’t know legilimency. The thing is, legilimency is hard. Unless you’re freakishly gifted at it, it’s the kind of thing that takes years to master, and finding opportunities to practice isn’t exactly easy.”

“But we do know occlumency, at least the basics,” Padma added. She stopped near the end of the book. “I’d say I’m comfortably about here, and Parvati is a bit behind.”

“Yeah, she’s better at this stuff than I am. Neither of us are experts; we really just know enough to keep out casual lurkers.”

“That’s really far though? It’s near the end of the book,” I pointed out.

“It’s also a primer. We’re beginners, as is pretty much everyone our age. We’d notice if someone entered our minds, but that’s about it.”

I looked at the book. It wasn't very thick. Maybe I wasn't that far behind. “How did you learn?”

“The same way Blaise did, probably. Our parents taught us when we were younger. It's really the only way to learn because though the mind arts aren't illegal, distribution or teaching outside your family is.”

“Wait, am I allowed to have this book?” I asked, shocked. This was contraband? “Did… Did Blaise break the law for me?”

“...”

“...”

The twins looked at each other, then at me. They said in chorus, “We won’t tell if you don’t.”

“I need to learn. I… I’ll start reading this. And then…”

“Do the meditation exercises, but don’t try anything else on your own. We’ll have to find a legilimens you can trust if you want to really practice,” Parvati said. “Pads, you think mom and dad can–”

“Maybe… It’d be a tough sell. We’d have to call our aunt back from India, and you know she hates European wizards,” her sister replied. “She might be willing to give us a week over the summer if we’re lucky.”

“I wonder if Blaise knows legilimency,” I mused, half to myself.

“Of course not. No one our age would.”

“But… But if anyone our age does, then…”

“Then yeah, it’d definitely be him.”

I resolved to read the little book like a bible. The twins assured me that legilimency users were really rare, but I had a feeling I’d run into at least one. Knowing my luck, it was an inevitability.

Besides, this felt like more than just a casual gift. I could be wrong, but this felt a lot like a warning. And as shady as he could be, I trusted him. If my seer friend said I should learn this, there was a good chance I’d need it eventually.

We continued to go around in a circle, unwrapping our gifts. The only other one of note was the nameless box. Inside was a silver cloak, fitted for someone almost twice my size. Despite the ill-fitting garment, I held it tight as I read the letter aloud:

“‘Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well…’ This… This was my dad’s?” I whispered in wonder. It looked like Blaise wasn’t the only one dropping emotional bombs on me today.

“I guess so,” Padma replied. “But why give it to you now?”

“I was in muggle London. Maybe they didn’t know where I lived.”

“Well, put it on, then.”

I did. My friends gasped in shock as I vanished. I looked like a floating head. “Woah… Is this… normal? Does every pureblood have an invisibility cloak in their wardrobe?”

“Definitely not,” Padma denied. She eyed that letter far more closely now. “That’s the kind of thing that’d be a family heirloom, and usually not for more than a generation or two at best. I think I read that enchantments can wear out without maintenance and invisibility cloaks are especially tricky.”

“This is so cool… Hey, guess what I’m doing?”

“The chicken dance,” Parvati said, grinning.

I stopped flapping my arms. “No, I’m not.”

“You are. I know you too well.”

“Ugh, lame… Who’s turn is it now?”

“We don’t have that many left. Let’s just do it all at once.”

“Alright, suit yourselves…”

X

Albus Dumbledore

Christmas, or Yuletide as many of my traditional peers preferred to call it, was one of my least favorite times of the year. It was the time of the year when the carefully cultivated aura of mystique I’d built up around myself faded.

Normally, people were too reverent towards me to invite me to various unnecessary outings. They thought that the chief warlock and supreme mugwump had better things to do than have tea with them. I was quite content to encourage that narrative, especially as it tended to be the truth more often than not.

However, that aura vanished over the holidays. It was the holidays, and so many were eager to share the festive spirit. Some well-intentioned folks thought it would only be right to share that festive spirit with an aged mentor, me. I loved them for it, but I could only attend so many gatherings before the numerous social obligations wore on me. 

These days, there were precious few who I could call dear friends. Some had passed, off on their next great adventure. Others had retired, far in seclusion that even I was loath to call on them for a casual drink. Still others were no longer quite themselves, the weight of the years gone by heavier than the responsibilities they’d once carried.

Then there were the gifts. Piles of them, far more than this old man could possibly appreciate or reply to. Books mostly, as if I didn’t already possess half a dozen copies of most of them. I truly loathed the tradition of obligatory gift-giving. It made for such insincere gifts, unoriginal, too.

My most interesting gifts this year came from my nearest friends, Minerva and Severus. Minerva gave me a box of my favorite lemon drops, full well knowing that any books she got me would only find themselves donated to the Hogwarts library.

Severus was a different matter. He was as cheeky today as he was in his youth. He merely hid it better. He got me a small box of pills from a muggle pharmacy that purported to help treat the symptoms of dementia.

That got a fond chuckle out of me. I hoped he enjoyed the cardboard cutout of a cauldron I sent him.

I spent my evening in peace. I’d read this book before, several times now, but the tale never ceased to capture my attention. Alice in Wonderland was such a wondrous take on magical society, as told from the perspective of a muggle. I believed the muggles called the genre “portal fantasy.”

I was envious of Alice. The marvel, the awe, and yes, sometimes the terror, were conveyed with that undercurrent of the unknowable. There was something about this book that never ceased to make me feel nostalgic.

Eventually, I set down the book. As much as I wished to do nothing else this evening, my attention was drawn elsewhere. The Forbidden Forest loomed large. Pressed flush against the castle’s wards, it remained a source of bountiful resources for the castle, and on occasion, forewarning.

Several days ago, Hagrid heard something strange in the forest: Two unicorns were hunted down. One escaped thanks to the help of centaurs, but another had been found drained of blood. His information was unfortunately reliable, having come directly from the centaurs.

That was not a good omen. Unicorns were sacred, so much so that they were almost entirely exempt from the cycle of predation that defined the natural order. Not even werewolves or Hagrid’s acromantulas hunted them. It was only when one died of age or the rare disease that a unicorn could be fed upon or harvested by a fortunate wizard. That was why even Olivander only used the tail hairs that were occasionally donated or caught upon the stray bough as they wandered the forest.

The mere fact that a unicorn had been intentionally harmed indicated the presence of something profoundly malicious. According to the centaurs, a wizard had not only harvested, but drank from a unicorn. That sounded like unimaginable folly to my ears. The half-life that one would be cursed to… 

I remembered Tom as the most brilliant student to ever walk this school. He was as cautious as he was intelligent. It was that meticulous caution and cunning that had allowed him to rise nearly unopposed during the previous war. The Lord Voldemort I knew would never have consumed unicorn blood of his own volition, never have willingly taken that curse upon himself.

And that meant there were two possibilities: 

The most likely was that the Dark Lord had imperiused a poor wizard. By forcing another to drink the blood of a unicorn, he could study the effects of this “half-life” while remaining safe. He could then seek to mitigate or remove the consequences, should his attempt on the stone fail and he be forced to drink it himself.

The second possibility was that he had drunk the unicorn’s blood. He would have had to have no other choice but to be pushed this far. He’d somehow acquired a physical form and this form was a temporary one. Its shelf life must have been brief indeed for him to have considered the curse worth accepting.

Whatever the case, he would have to make his attempt on the stone soon, whether personally or by proxy. The promise of the philosopher’s stone was far too great a temptation for a man like Tom. And when he did, he and Violet would have the first of their many encounters. 

I could not prevent this. I could not spare her this burden. But if I could choose the battlefield, I could observe the encounter. Quirrell might be Voldemort’s sword, or just a distraction. I did not know, and was loath to act without knowing.

If he appeared in person, then I might be able to discern just what foul ritual he used to return. Depending on what I found, I could use that to delay his second rise. 

And if he sent a proxy, then the prophecy itself would be her shield, as would I.

Author’s Note

Wanted something fluffy. I don’t really do “x.5” style interlude chapters for this story, but this is definitely the equivalent.

You know, we don’t actually have a canon statement that tells us whether occlumency and legilimency are illegal or not. It’s implied that it’s ethically questionable, but nothing concrete is ever stated from a ministerial perspective. I’m going with the widely accepted fanon that the arts themselves are not illegal, but distribution outside of specific circumstances is.

I’ll be honest. Dumbledore’s reasoning is weak, especially compared to other scheming characters I’ve written before. It’s not my fault though. The first book legitimately reads like its own separate children’s book because I swear JKR had no idea how big Harry Potter would be and initially made it to be a one-off for third graders.

Animal Fact: Birds have erogenous zones. Yes, like humans. It’s possible to inappropriately touch a parrot, and entirely without meaning to. When you pet a parrot on the nape, back, lower back, or under the wings, it can be misunderstood as mating behavior.

This can cause hormonal surges that can lead to mental and behavioral issues including depression and/or territorial aggression, especially around other birds. It’s also one reason a parrot might start overpreening. Sometimes, a bird will imprint on humans so hard that it ignores all potential mates in favor of a human caretaker.

Places that are okay to touch on a parrot include the face, cheeks, head, chest, and feet.