Dean groaned, turning over on his side. Again. It was Christmas Eve, and it was stupid Neville’s fault that Dean still hadn’t fallen asleep. A bell tolled midnight as Dean covered his head with a pillow, trying to block out Neville’s loud snoring.
“Bloody…” Dean sat up with a start. What was that noise? It had sounded like a faint jingling of bells, just like the ones his mother used to ring outside his bedroom window while his father told him that Father Christmas was coming. Dean had to smile. He was seventeen years old and it had been a long, long time since he had believed Father Christmas magically brought presents on Christmas Eve. It was probably just a first year making mischief. That’s what he thought, at least, until it happened.
“Ah… ah…” Dean tried to yell, but his voice seemed caught in his mouth, and he could only make incoherent sputtering sounds as the jingling got louder. Suddenly, a fat man in a red and white suit appeared, a large sack slung over his shoulder.
“Goodness, my boy, do you need a handkerchief? I hadn’t put you down for one, but everybody could use more handkerchiefs!” the man looked down at Dean, who had crawled as far away from the man as possible and was shivering slightly next to his pillow. “Or maybe a blanket. Here.” the man snapped his fingers, and Dean was covered with a thick woolen blanket. He pushed it off of his face as he finally managed to get the words out.
“Who are you?”
“Gracious, child!” the man laughed, his stomach jiggling. “I’m Father Christmas! Surely you know that?” and he laughed again as Dean carefully got off the bed and walked up to him. “I don’t bite, Dean! I promise!”
“How do you know my name? And really, who are you? And how did you get onto school grounds? Don’t move!” Dean reached behind him onto the bedside table where he kept his wand, then held it in front of him. “I… I know some really nasty curses! Make one step out of line and it’ll be Bat Bogey for you!” Dean and Ginny had broken up last year, but her trademark curse had stuck in his mind. “And then I’ll get Professor McGonagall!” He had finally mastered his Patronus, and it could get to the Headmistress in minutes if he needed to send a message.
“So watch it!” The man made to step forward, but Dean was too quick.
“Tarantellegra!” It wasn’t the Bat Bogey Curse, but it was the one Dean was most skilled at. But to his shock, the man simply waved his hand in front of his face, deflecting the spell.
“Oh, Dean,” the man sighed. “Don’t tell me things have gotten this bad that you’ve resorted to cursing me! Obviously, I need to stay more up to date on current affairs. Please, tell me why you’re so afraid of me.”
“I’m not afraid! You’re in Hogwarts’ power now!” but the hand holding the wand was so unsteady that Dean could feel himself shaking. Cursing people was much harder when you were face to face with them, listening to them speak.
“Yes you are, Dean. I can sense it, I’m Father Christmas, after all. What has happened to the world that has made you like this?” Dean sagged. He couldn’t fight this man. Not only was he much, much more powerful than Dean could ever hope to be, but Dean had a feeling he really was Father Christmas.
“It’s… its Voldemort.” Dean cringed, but the man didn’t respond. “He’s more powerful than ever. He’s organizing an actual army now, and he’s killing Muggles all over London. There have been three massacres in the last six months. All of them of Muggles. One of them at a sporting event. One at a school. And one in downtown London. Nobody knows where he’ll strike next, and all the while he’s killing witches and wizards too.” Dean took a deep, raggedy breath before he looked back up at the man. “But you’re not real,” he stated. “Mum told me you weren’t real before I came to Hogwarts. You’re just a superstition, made up to make children more naïve than they already are.”
“Technically,” the man said truthfully, “witches and wizards aren’t real either. Some people never believe you exist. So if you’re real, so am I.” Dean had to smile slightly.
“Fair enough. But why are you here now? You’ve never brought me a present at Hogwarts before.” The man smiled as he reached into his sack and pulled out a small, brown paper wrapped box.
“When people don’t believe in me anymore, they don’t usually don’t get anymore presents. But sometimes, the present that person needs is something only I can give them. This is something you need, Dean Thomas, and only I can give it to you. Go ahead, open it.” Dean carefully unwrapped the package to reveal a small, black, wooden chest of drawers, the type his little sisters had in their dollhouse. He looked up at the man, confused. The man laughed.
“There are three drawers in that box. Starting on Christmas Day, open a drawer a day for three days. Do not try to control what’s inside, though! People have tried that before. Their bodies were a real mess when their friends found them.” Dean gulped, but nodded.
The man smiled. “Thank you for updating me on world events, Dean Thomas. Next time, be more ready to believe!” He laughed, and then as he turned on his heels Dean heard the jingling bells again before the man disappeared.
*
“Wake up, Dean! It’s Christmas!” Dean opened his eyes to see Neville leaning over him, breathing in his face. Dean yelled out in surprise, causing Neville to jump backwards and step in a box of cauldron cakes Seamus had just opened.
“Sorry,” Neville said, turning to his own pile of presents as Seamus rolled his eyes. It was just like Neville to completely ruin Christmas morning for Dean who was always irritable after being woken up suddenly. He couldn’t figure out why Neville had always failed to grasp this. They’d slept in the same dorm as each other since first year, after all.
Dean shuffled out of bed over to his small pile of presents. His family usually gave him his present when he came home for Christmas, but this year Professor McGonagall had unexpectedly announced it was too risky for anyone to travel over the Christmas holiday. Because of this, their presents were mailed late, and Dean didn’t expect much on Christmas morning as he sat down in front of three packages and reached for the first and smallest package, from Seamus.
Dean pulled the paper off to reveal a model of a Firebolt that, as let go of it, flew across the room and out the open window. Dean glanced towards Seamus, who looked a bit embarrassed.
“Sorry, mate,” he said, “should’ve closed that.”
“ No matter,” Dean replied, though he felt like it mattered a lot. Reaching for the next gift, he opened it to show a large box of sugar quills, his favorite treat, from Neville.
“Thanks!” he said as he turned around to look at Neville, considerably cheered by the prospect of a nice, sugary treat. Neville grinned back at him, apparently pleased Dean was so happy. Dean began to suck on one as he unwrapped the last present, from Hagrid. Dean and Hagrid had been friends throughout Dean’s years at Hogwarts, but he had never given Dean a Christmas present before. A bottle of ink fell at Dean’s feet, and he smiled as he read the note-
I know your an artist, so I got you some ink to draw with. Happy Christmas.
Dean opened the bottle of ink to inspect it, but as soon as he had uncapped it the ink flew out of the bottle and all over his face and his quills. Trick ink. Perfect. Hagrid must not have read the label when buying the ink, and now every single present Dean has gotten was ruined and he had ink all over his face.
“Happy Christmas to me,” he muttered to himself as he cleaned the ink off his face with his wand. The quills were completely ruined. As he stood up to clear the mess away, the tiny wooden box caught his eye. Father Christmas had told him to open the first drawer today, and it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. Still fuming from the loss of his presents, he reached over and pulled the first drawer open.
A bubble came out of the drawer, expanding in the middle of the dorm until it was roughly the size of a bed. Inside the bubble, a scene appeared. It was Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Dean hadn’t seen them since school had let out last year- nobody knew where they were or what they were doing. But now he saw them crouched behind a bench in what he recognized as London. Flashes of green and red were just barely missing them, and Dean could see that the ground around them was littered with bodies. He felt sick to his stomach as he sunk onto his bed, and Neville and Seamus looked shocked. The scene faded to whiteness, and script appeared inside the bubble.
No matter how bad things are for you, they’re a million times worse for somebody else. So remember to laugh, because if you can’t laugh at the little things than the big things will kill you.
And then the bubble popped, leaving a stunned group of Gryffindor boys. Neville was the first one to react. He jumped up from where he was sitting on the floor and ran out of the dorm, yelling for Professor McGonagall. It seemed like only a few seconds later that he was back with the Headmistress in tow.
“Thomas, Finnigan, what is going on here?” From the looks of it, they had interrupted her breakfast. Dean couldn’t bring himself to explain, just shook his head. Seamus began instead.
“Dean opened the box, Professor, and this bubble came out! And we all saw Harry and Ron and Hermione… it looked like London, like some sort of battle. And there were… bodies.” His face was pale as he looked to the ground. “And then it disappeared and the bubble said something about remembering to laugh.” Professor McGonagall’s face was as white as the snow, and she reached out a hand to steady herself against the bed.
“Mr. Thomas, where did you get that box?” Dean debated his options. He could tell Professor McGonagall it came from Father Christmas and be scoffed at, or he could not answer. He chose the latter, and remained silent. “Thomas, where did you get the box?” Her voice was insistent.
“It was a Christmas present,” Dean finally answered. It was true, after all. “It’s from a friend.” This was pushing things a bit, but Dean couldn’t figure out what else to say. Professor McGonagall seemed exasperated.
“Fine, Thomas. I want the three of you to report to the Great Hall; if London is being attacked then Hogwarts might be next. If you see anybody wandering the halls, see that they go to the Great Hall with you. Hurry up!” was it just Dean, or was there panic in the voice of the Headmistress? He dismissed that idea as ridiculous as she left and the boys gathered up things to take to the Great Hall with them. When Hogsmeade had been attacked, they had been kept in the Great Hall for three days. They knew to bring comforts now.
The first thing Dean grabbed was an emergency bag that all the Gryffindor students had prepared in case this should happen. He already had a change of robes in it, as well as a sketchbook, quills, and ink. As an afterthought now he dropped in the box before slipping on his trainers and following Seamus and Neville out of the dorms and down the stairs.
The common room was pandemonium. A few first years looked terrified - actually, Dean realised, a lot of the older students were among them. Prefects were trying to herd them into the hall, and Dean allowed himself to be herded as Parvati and Lavender joined them, looking terrified. Parvati grabbed onto Dean’s arm, and he patted her shoulder absent-mindedly.
“Do you know what this is about?” she looked scared, staring up at him. He was going to shake his head when Seamus answered.
“Dean saw a vision of a battle in London, and bloody hell, it was horrible.” he shuddered. Dean would have happily avoided the stares he was getting from the other Gryffindor students. Instead of answering the pestering questions of Lavender, he grabbed Parvati by the hand and guided her out of the crowd. He and Parvati had been sort-of dating for about a month now. That is to say, they had never officially acknowledged their feelings for each other, but both realised they existed. Dean had just assumed they would date eventually, but now he was beginning to wonder if they would both live much longer. If Hogwarts was attacked… he gripped her hand tighter, and she came up next to him so that they could talk.
“Dean, I have to find Padma. Do you think the Ravenclaw students know about this yet?”
“She’ll be in the Great Hall,” Dean assured her. “McGonagall is the Headmistress now, after all; she’ll have alerted them.” Parvati nodded, but he knew she was afraid. He didn’t blame her. He was remembering the bubble. He had never seen Harry look so terrified… and for the first time, he remembered what the bubble had said, and he smiled. “Listen, Parvati, what do elephants play in the back of a small car?” Parvati looked at him like he was crazy. He probably was.
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Squash!” He grinned down at her, and she stared back up at him before, to his surprise, giving him a grin and started to giggle. Entering the Great Hall, the two were still laughing, and the others turned to stare at the two slightly insane Gryffindor students.
*
“What was that?” Lavender wasn’t the only one to question the crashing sound coming from outside the Great Hall. All the Gryffindor seventh years had snagged a corner of the hall where Seamus had conjured up some comfy chairs to resemble the common room. Neville and Seamus had been discussing Quidditch while Dean and Parvati chatted when the noise was heard, but now everyone was only discussing one thing; was it Death Eaters?
“We’re trapped in here if it’s them,” Neville admitted. “What was McGonagall thinking?” Dean had a pretty good idea of what she was thinking, and it involved blind panic. He didn’t mention that, though, just turned away from the conversation. Parvati was watching him, and he gave her a small smile. No need to worry her, after all. He was sure that it would be fine. Really.
Nonetheless, he didn’t participate in the conversation anymore but just stared into the distance as he thought of his friends. Not just Seamus, Parvati, Lavender and Neville, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Were they all right?
Merlin, Dean thought, I hope so. They had looked so… scared, I guess. But it was more than just scared. They looked determined. They were out there fighting to save the world, and I could tell from their faces it was what they wanted to be doing. What was I doing? Sitting here, snogging Parvati. and Dean had to admit it. They hadn’t even snogged yet. He felt like dirt, sitting there worrying about Christmas presents when Harry, Hermione and Ron were risking their lives.
Perhaps that was why, in a sudden moment of courage, Dean stood up, pulled Parvati from her chair, and, while the other Gryffindors watched in confusion, pulled her to him and kissed her hard on the lips. The kiss lasted only a few seconds, but as clichéd as it sounded, it lasted a lifetime to Dean. Parvati looked dazed as he released her.
“Happy Christmas,” he said, grinning down at her. “I hope you liked your present.”
“I- I didn’t get you anything,” she protested, apparently still not wrapping her mind around the idea of her and Dean snogging in the Great Hall.
“I see your dilemma,” Dean replied, his arms still wrapped around her. “But I’ve got a way for you to make it up to me.” Finally, Parvati caught on, and she turned a faint shade of pink as she glanced around, aware that most of the school was watching them.
“Here?” She was unsure, hesitating. “Dean… everybody’s watching. How can we do this, anyway, when Harry and Ron and Hermione are fighting? It’s… it doesn’t feel right.”
“Sometimes,” Dean whispered, leaning down to her ear, “you need to celebrate yourself.” He grinned, thinking of what Father Christmas had said. Finally, he understood what the box had told him.
“Laugh, because if you can’t laugh at the little things the big things will kill us. And love, because, well…” He was at loss for words. He knew what he was trying to get across, but it would sound silly coming from his mouth. Parvati understood, though and, standing on tiptoe, kissed him back.
A few feet away from them, a wooden box disappeared, and hundreds of miles away, Father Christmas smiled to himself. There were other lessons in the box, it was true, but Father Christmas decided that Dean had gotten the right idea.
Perhaps, after all, some people could still be taught to believe.