December replaced November with freezing winds that attacked the exposed skin of students as they trudged through the courtyard or to the vegetable patches for Herbology. Downfalls of snow paraded the Hogwarts castle and the black lake had completely frozen over so that students were ice skating on it. It was a relief for all students when the Christmas break arrived. There was a Hogsmeade trip on the first day of the holidays. Although Neville would be staying at Hogwarts for the holidays, he went to the station to bid farewells to Ginny, Luna and various other seventh-year students. When the train got lost in the mist and falling snow, Neville, Seamus, Ernie and Michael, wrapped in thick winter coats, scarves, gloves and hats, trudged through the High Street, snow crunching beneath their feet, and headed into the Three Broomsticks. Michael brought four Butterbeers to their table in the furthest corner from the door and they sat down. It was relatively busy; many of the tables were also full and Madam Rosmerta was bustling hither and thither to serve those who had ordered from their seats. A pack of dark, cloaked men took seats on the table next to the boys, blocking Neville's view from half the pub; he could still see numerous Christmas decorations, including a large, glistening Christmas tree in the opposite corner.
'So ... what're we doing this Christmas?' asked Michael.
'Not a lot,' said Neville, 'kipping out in the Room, I expect.'
'I still think we can do more,' began Ernie. 'To annoy Snape,' he added in answer to Neville's questioning look, 'I reckon there's a lot we can still do without getting caught.'
'Without getting caught?' Seamus repeated, mildly surprised. 'Do you really think they won't think it's us doing everything?'
Ernie shrugged and sipped his Butterbeer.
'Something to do though,' piped up Michael matter-of-factly.
Neville glugged down more Butterbeer, absent-mindedly watching a man on the adjacent table extract a colourful stack of paper. How much longer could they keep rebelling? Was it too risky?
'Harry'll be back soon,' he said finally, 'I'm sure of it.'
Ernie nodded in agreement
'Where is he d'you reckon?' Seamus asked. There was something different in his voice, masked by casualness; was it fear, doubt?
'I know what you're thinking,' said Neville. 'But he has to be still alive. The Carrows wouldn't waste a second in telling the whole school if he did die, they know it would be such a blow to us.'
Their table lapsed into silence again.
'What's that you've got, Stan?' one of the men from the neighbouring table asked. Neville's eyes flickered up at the name. With a sickening jolt in his stomach, he realised who else was on that table: Selwyn and the other man Neville had Stunned last month in the Forest. Selwyn caught Neville looking, but stared at him blandly, not recognising him.
'The Quibbler,' Stan answered.
'Aaah, isn't that Lovegood's rag? Yes, I heard he's getting punished for telling everyone to save Potter,' Selwyn finished with a cruel laugh.
'Yeah, that's right – Scab's taking her daughter from the train now, i'n'e? Taking her to Azkaban, that's what I –'
Neville and Michael choked on their Butterbeers and Stan looked at them.
'Easy boys, you know wha' 'appens when you drink too much of tha' stuff, eh?' he chuckled. His eyes bore into Neville's for a second. A hint of a frown appeared on the young man's spotty forehead but he looked away without another word.
'Yeah, that should teach old Lovers, right?'
It took several seconds for Neville to recover from his coughing fit but when he looked up he could see his own fear and repulsion reflected on each of the boy's faces.
The Christmas holidays were horribly unpleasant after that afternoon in Hogsmeade. Of all the things that had happened to Neville this year, with the Carrow's lessons, being tortured and injured, Snape himself, nothing frightened him more than the image of Luna being surrounded by Dementors in a lonely prison cell. The only way he was able to get to sleep at night for the next week or so was telling himself, time and time again, that she would be fine, that she would easily be able to resist the Dementors.
Christmas Day arrived with more snow but Neville, no matter how hard he tried, found that he couldn't enjoy the day knowing that Luna was in grave danger. He forced a smile as he opened stacks of sweets and chocolates from friends and family and the latest pair of high-quality dragon hide gloves from his grandma; he could tell this present would be extremely useful for handling those dangerous plants in the greenhouses, particularly Devil's Snare and the biting Mandrakes.
Thankfully, the Christmas lunch was as magnificent as always, though spoilt slightly by Snape and the Carrows not even smiling as they ate. The Great Hall was full to the brim with happy chatter among all students, explosive crackers and the chinking of goblets and cutlery as they all ate and drank greedily.
A few hours later found Neville trudging up the many staircases to fetch his winter gear to go outside, where it was rumoured that a big snowball fight would be underway. He'd just reached the third floor when Peeves came zooming round the corner, cackling madly, clutching handfuls of snowballs. Two fifth-year girls screamed as the poltergeist lobbed one, none to gently, at them and it exploded on their woollen jumpers.
'Hehehe,' crowed Peeves, 'ooooh, Bottomhead! Want some cold? Hahaha!' he lobbed one at Neville but he blocked it with a simple Shield Charm and the snow burst in a white puff.
'Do us a favour Peeves – find a Carrow and hit them instead.'
'Ooh, not causing more trouble are we, Longbo? We all know that's my job!'
'Who said somefin 'bout a Carrow?'
Neville heart dropped as he spun on his heel, to see Amycus Carrow marching up the stairs. Neville made to keep walking but –
'Not so fast, Longbo'om.'
'What did you ask me, Longy?' said Peeves dangerously, ignoring Neville's pleading look. 'Hit a Carrow with a snowball? I don't think that's a sensible suggestion, do you Amy?'
'Did you?' Amycus breathed.
Neville didn't hesitate. He ran down the third floor corridor, Carrow hot on his heels. Couldn't he go a day without getting himself into trouble? Carrow was laughing, probably only chasing Neville for the fun of it.
Neville bounded into a random room, yelling, 'Colloportus!' at the door and it locked shut. The room was completely empty but for a large trapdoor in the centre of the stone floor. He heard Carrow apparently run into the door before the teacher shouted, 'Alohomora!' and the door clicked open again. Without thinking, Neville yanked up the trapdoor and dropped through it, hoping that whatever was down here wasn't worse than what he had just left.
The drop was a lot longer than he'd expected but his landing was soft. Breathing heavily, he could hear quiet voices from up above.
'Did you get him?' asked Alecto.
'Nah,' Amycus answered, sounding disappointed, 'probably died though, haven't a clue what's down there.'
He heard the trapdoor shut with a clap and he took in his surroundings. He knew someone was wrong, for the plants he had landed on began to move, slithering closer to him. Neville swore.
Devil's Snare. And lots of it.
'Lumos solem!' he cried desperately and a strong beam of light issued from his wand. The tentacles backed away from the light and he felt himself slowly slipping down until his legs were dangling beneath the bed. Next moment, his body slipped through and his feet hit hard stone, his knees flexing. Wand still brightly lit, he began walking down the underground corridor, wondering where on earth he could possibly be.
The corridor terminated at a large, circular room, with four pillars shooting upwards. A huge heap of white feathers sat in one corner, gathering decay and dust. He opened the door at the end. He walked through one empty room, with a black-and-white checkered floor, two empty rooms, three empty rooms ... just as he opened the next door, wondering how long this would go on for, he brought himself to a halt.
True, it was another large room, but it wasn't entirely empty. Stairs as wide as the room led to a large open stone floor, where a pile of purple and black rags had been placed, or rather dropped. And at the very back, looking completely out of place, stood a magnificent, oversized, ancient mirror.