The knight bus halted its whipping speeds in front of my grandpa's house first. My legs wobbled as I stood up, and my stomach felt like a bowl of swirling gravy.

"I'll see you on Christmas Eve then, yeah?" Daphne said.

"You bet."

She handed me a folded up piece of paper. "That's what you have to say when you use the floo network to transport to my house."

"Thanks, I'll see you soon." I stepped off the bus, paid my fare, and approached my grandpa's modest two-story house made of worn-out bricks. The front door was already unlocked, and I tiptoed inside. A conversation was coming from the living room to my right.

"... it's been producing nothing but problems, some of them have been getting crafty. Socializing about new methods of the dark arts and how to explore the unknown. They practically treat it as a conference. I've heard something about a conjuring -er some type of discovery... Oh. Logan, your grandson, is here."

My grandpa looked up from his armchair, squinting through his glasses at the doorway. "Ah, Rollie, there you are. Glad you joined us. Did you get here all right?"

"Yeah, no problems." I entered the room. Benson greeted me from his cage, hooting in a way that said 'hello!'

"Looks like someone's excited to see you." My grandpa beamed as he stood up to give me a hug. "Rollie, you remember my friend, Zane Thumblebatch, yes?"

I nodded at the cloaked white-bearded man who was sitting across from my grandpa. He bowed his head.

"I ought to get going. I'll see you later, Logan. Merry Christmas." Zane strode out the door.

"He's a bit of a weird guy, huh?" I said. "Or is he just afraid of my mohawk?"

"Oh, don't worry about him. He's awfully shy, that's all. Don't take it personally. Besides, he's been here all day talking my ear off." My grandpa waved his hand dismissively and laughed. "Glad he's gone."

"What was he going on about?" I put my finger in Benson's cage to pet him. Benson tilted his head and allowed me to rub his neck.

"He started losing me a little bit. Something about how there are dark arts fanatics that are still exploring new curses and ways to harm others."

"That's a little unsettling."

"Yes, not the most pleasant conversation to have during the holiday season, but it's good to be in the know. Zane still has a pulse on the Azkaban prison. He was also telling me how some of the prisoners in there are so brilliant they can avert the effects of the dementors, and so they fraternize with some of the other inmates to try and explore new territory of dark arts."

"Scary times. Did he say anything about what's been going on at Hogwarts? With the land curse and such?"

"No, he didn't really talk about that much. He mentioned it and scratched his head about it, and that was all. But, he's not too worried. At least at the moment."

"Yeah, I bet," I said sarcastically, and I regretted it.

"Rollie, no need for that kind of tone. You're not suggesting something by that comment, are you?"

"No, just a poor joke. Sorry about that, Grandpa."

"That's all right. Comedy is hard sometimes. Just wanted to make sure you weren't insinuating something. Anyway, welcome home for the holidays. Can I get you anything? Would you like some tea?"

"Yeah, that would be great."

I arrived to my grandpa's on Sunday evening and planned to go to Daphne's house on Thursday later in the morning. It was peaceful to be relaxing with my grandfather at home. I was fortunate that he had a spacious backyard where I could spend my afternoons flying around on my broom to stay sharp for Quidditch. Though it was freezing cold, I would take a hot bath afterwards.

There was even an afternoon where we went to Diagon Alley and stopped off at a bar where we each had a few butterbeers. He reminisced about what it was like when he was younger, drinking butterbeers with his friends. It was delightful strolling around the storefronts festooned with red and green lights. So many Christmas trees sat next to entrances of shops or on corners of streets. A light snowfall made the early evening a picturesque winter wonderland.

On the night before Christmas Eve, my grandpa requested me to spend some time in the living room with him after eating dinner together. He set up the fire with a flick of his wand and handed me a cup of tea.

"Rollie, back in 1965, that's when I first got signed to play for the Montrose Magpies. It was a dream come true since we came from a Quidditch family, and it was with great excitement that I was selected to play for them. I mean, our very own ancestors founded the team. It felt like destiny. Although I'll admit, it was a little disheartening that I never made it as a starter for the team, but I did my best coming off the bench and contributing as a chaser.

"We had a good team when I first joined them, and we stayed a good team. Had I been a part of another club, I would probably have been a starter, but the Montrose Magpies at the time were a 'well-oiled machine,' as the muggles say. As a rookie, I didn't mind being the backup, but as the years went on, it bothered me slightly, but the captain assured me that I was the best bench player and mustn't leave. I stuck with it, and I'm glad I did because I won a few championships, which was exhilarating.

"I'm sure you're wondering, 'what's this old kook rambling on about? I've heard him talk about this before.' Yes, well, Rollie, I never told you what I received for winning, and I'm sure your parents never did either, and with that said, I have something I'd like you to have." My grandpa handed me a wrapped up box with emerald green paper with a ruby bow on top.

"Thank you, grandpa, you didn't have to get me anything."

"Rollie. Don't be ridiculous. It's Christmas, of course, I'm going to give you something."

I ripped off the packaging, and underneath was a little black box that opened up like a clam. Inside was a ring. The signature black 'M' engraved on a diamond, enclosed by a black circle that shined brilliantly.

"Whoa, what's this?" I asked.

"It's my first Championship Quidditch ring for the Montrose Magpies. I want you to have it."

"But, Grandpa, I can't take this from you."

He chuckled. "Rollie, I got three more. Please, I want you to have it."

"Well, thank you a lot. I mean that from the bottom of my heart." I slid it on my ring finger, it fit perfectly.

"They say it's imbued with a special charm, but I can't remember what. I don't think they do that anymore, now that there's a new witch that makes them, but the previous witch... Gosh, I forget her name." My grandpa cracked up hopelessly. "Guess my brain is slipping with old age. Anyway, there was a witch that made all the rings for the players. She enchanted them with a special charm or something like that. So there you go, Rollie, merry Christmas!" He beamed.

I stood up and hugged him tightly as he was still sitting in his chair.

"Thank you, grandpa."

"Yep. Love you, grandson."

The way his frail voice said those words made my eyes brim. My voice replied with a thick, "I love you too," said quickly to disguise the incoming tears.

"We should probably head off to bed. After breakfast tomorrow, we have a big day at your friend's house. Hope you're excited. It's always fun celebrating the holidays with a lot of folks."

"Yeah, I'm very much looking forward to it."

The following morning my grandpa made breakfast with eggs, sausage, black pudding (his favorite, but I found its contents rather disturbing), beans, and toast. Afterward, we packed our bags and got ready to leave. I kept staring outside at the early Christmas Eve morning, we had a gentle snowfall around our house.

In the middle of moving our belongings into the living room, my grandpa looked over at me and asked, "Rollie, I don't know these folks we are staying with. Do you think it's fine if I wear these robes? They're a little worn, but they are my most comfortable."

"Yeah, I think it's fine." I shrugged.

"Can you tell me anything about her family? Anything I should expect?"

"I think they live in a pretty big house. Her parents are the founders of Practical Potions."

My grandpa froze up, and his eyes widened. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that again?"

I repeated it.

"My goodness..." He blinked a handful of times as if he was short-circuiting. "I have some of their basic potions in my cupboard right now! The very same Practical Potions company?"

"... Yes."

"How come you didn't tell me sooner!" my grandpa roared. "I can't wear these robes. We're going to be amongst royalty in the magic community. Where the hell is your mind? I should have known about this sooner!"

"Come on, it's really not that big of a deal. I'm not even supposed to know about her family. Daphne keeps that info under wraps. Come as you are. Who cares."

My grandpa ran upstairs and came back down, wearing a faded black suit with a ruffled shirt underneath. He was carrying another similar suit and shirt on a hanger. "We're basically the same in size. Here, you should wear this."

I chuckled. "Grandpa, I really think you're overthinking this. I'm just going like this." I had my patched denim jacket on, a Nirvana shirt underneath, and my mohawk standing high.

"This is undoubtedly an extraordinarily wealthy family!"

"Yeah, but, I don't know, gramps, I think you're tripping out over nothing. Daphne's really cool. She would have said something if appearance mattered to them."

We bickered back and forth for a half-hour. Finally, I convinced him to just wear his regular house robes.

"Fine! But on Christmas Day I will wear my suit and shirt unless I know for a fact I'm out of place. Come on, then, I'm ready to go when you are."

"All right, get the floo powder ready. You have to say: Jillian, Daphne, and Michael Poisonwood Castle Residence."

"Oof, that's a mouthful." My grandpa rubbed his forehead, but he repeated it to me without any issues. He sprinkled the floor powder in the fireplace, said the destination, and then I followed.

On the other side of the flames, I joined my grandfather in a vast living room, greeted by a chandelier filled with burning candles, some of them had red and green embers. A two-story Christmas tree was aglow with white lights in the corner, and the ceiling was triangular like a cathedral.

Daphne was standing by the fireplace, beaming as we came through.

"Mr. Magpie! Rollie! Welcome." She hugged me first and then my grandpa. He surveyed the living room with goggle-eyed wonder.

"Thank you so much, Daphne. But please, call me Logan," my grandpa said.

"Here, let me take your things and show you your rooms." Daphne outstretched her hands, but my grandpa insisted we carry our own bags. She took us out of the living room and guided us towards a staircase where we entered a hallway with many closed doors. Again, it was lit up by chandeliers.

"Blimey, it's like you're living in your own private Hogwarts here," my grandpa uttered.

"I hope that means you like it." Daphne laughed.

"I love it."

"This is your room, Mr. Magpie -er, I mean, Logan." She pointed to the right, opened the door, and my grandpa shuffled inside.

"Thank you so much. I'll just set my things down and meet you back in the living room in a few moments. That is... if I don't get lost." He chuckled.

Daphne walked across the hall and opened the door, leading me to my bedroom. Complete with a bed, a nightstand, a lamp, and even a chair in the corner. "The drawers are empty in case you want to put your clothes in there."

"Wow, thanks, this is so amazing." I stepped all around the spacious room.

Daphne smiled. "That's what everyone says when they come here. I'm so glad you arrived. It's been a rough few days." Her lips fell into a slight frown.

"What's the matter?"

"Remember how I said I forgot something at Hogwarts?"

I nodded.

"Well, that 'thing' was a paper I had to get signed by my parents, which would allow me to go to this potions camp over the summer."

"What's the big deal with that?"

"I have to send it the day after Christmas, the last day they'll accept it. Most kids turn in their application this week, but I forgot mine, and it was a whole debacle trying to get it back from Hogwarts. Not to mention my parents freaked out and haven't stopped snapping at me since."

"But you got it back, right?"

"Not yet. It's supposed to be delivered tonight, and I'm really sorry, but I had to tell you because it's going to be dropped off by... Professor Hawthorne."