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Merry Christmas
Some people have deep sleep, never waking up even with all members of Hogwarts chorus disposed around their bed, doing a rehearsal for the meetings they have twice a week. However, other people, including our main character, get out of the bed with the smallest noise, wands on their hands, prepared for a bloody magic duel with the invader... or totally ready to repress or maybe verbally threaten him, if the invader is untouchable, made solely of ectoplasm (and insolence, because it's necessary to have a big load of insolence for someone to interfere where they are unwelcome).
That's exactly what happened in the dawn of the fourth Sunday to the fourth Monday, in December of the year 1972, a particularly cold night, even though it was not snowing. Attached to the Transfiguration teacher's bedroom, as part of her chambers, there was a small room, and in the room there was a fireplace. Crossing this small room was the only way to get to the bedroom. The door to the corridors of the castle also was in there. As I've said before, it was in the early morning hours, so, of course, the witch was sleeping, at least until she heard a noise that woke her up. Her next action was getting her wand, then the glasses, and with them on her hands and with bare feet, she walked until the slightly open door using her feline stealth.
A ghost, a house-elf or even Peeves weren't going to surprise her. A nosy student would make her nervous and a thief would cause in her the most extreme fury. However, what she found wasn't a ghost, an elf, Peeves, a student or a thief. It was something totally unexpected and certainly it caught her in surprise.
There he was, lowering his body to deposit a present under the Christmas tree: an elder man with the beard as white as snow, glasses on the tip of the nose, and, of course, deep red clothing and hood with plushy details. When he saw her, standing by the door, he groaned faking frustration and said:
– Oh, it looks like someone is outside bed, despite of the time. Not good at all. If you hadn't been a good girl this year, my dear Minerva, I'd punish you by leaving you no gift.
She just smiled, watching as he returned to the fireplace.
– Merry Christmas – he said, smiling and taking on his hands a mouthful of floo-powder.
– Merry Christmas.
When he was already inside the fireplace, about to throw the floo-powder on his own feet, she decided to ask, before it was too late:
– Albus, what the hell are you wearing?
– Pajamas. – Then, he disappeared in the green flames, appearing in someplace called Pajamas.
Fin
Some people have deep sleep, never waking up even with all members of Hogwarts chorus disposed around their bed, doing a rehearsal for the meetings they have twice a week. However, other people, including our main character, get out of the bed with the smallest noise, wands on their hands, prepared for a bloody magic duel with the invader... or totally ready to repress or maybe verbally threaten him, if the invader is untouchable, made solely of ectoplasm (and insolence, because it's necessary to have a big load of insolence for someone to interfere where they are unwelcome).
That's exactly what happened in the dawn of the fourth Sunday to the fourth Monday, in December of the year 1972, a particularly cold night, even though it was not snowing. Attached to the Transfiguration teacher's bedroom, as part of her chambers, there was a small room, and in the room there was a fireplace. Crossing this small room was the only way to get to the bedroom. The door to the corridors of the castle also was in there. As I've said before, it was in the early morning hours, so, of course, the witch was sleeping, at least until she heard a noise that woke her up. Her next action was getting her wand, then the glasses, and with them on her hands and with bare feet, she walked until the slightly open door using her feline stealth.
A ghost, a house-elf or even Peeves weren't going to surprise her. A nosy student would make her nervous and a thief would cause in her the most extreme fury. However, what she found wasn't a ghost, an elf, Peeves, a student or a thief. It was something totally unexpected and certainly it caught her in surprise.
There he was, lowering his body to deposit a present under the Christmas tree: an elder man with the beard as white as snow, glasses on the tip of the nose, and, of course, deep red clothing and hood with plushy details. When he saw her, standing by the door, he groaned faking frustration and said:
– Oh, it looks like someone is outside bed, despite of the time. Not good at all. If you hadn't been a good girl this year, my dear Minerva, I'd punish you by leaving you no gift.
She just smiled, watching as he returned to the fireplace.
– Merry Christmas – he said, smiling and taking on his hands a mouthful of floo-powder.
– Merry Christmas.
When he was already inside the fireplace, about to throw the floo-powder on his own feet, she decided to ask, before it was too late:
– Albus, what the hell are you wearing?
– Pajamas. – Then, he disappeared in the green flames, appearing in someplace called Pajamas.
Fin
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