The trip to Hagrid's did nothing for Lilleth's need of information about Sirius, or Harry's anger about the subject. Instead, all they talked about was Hagrid's hippogriff, Buckbeak, who had attacked Draco Malfoy and was being investigated by the Ministry.

Back at the castle, Hermione and Ron went up to the common room, and Harry and Lilleth sat at one end of the Gryffindor table, near the fire, and Harry finally told her what was making him so angry.

"He was their best friend." he muttered darkly. "He betrayed them. He let them die. And Ron and Hermione think I shouldn't be trying to find him, or get -"

"Revenge?" Lilleth interrupted. "Of course you shouldn't be. That's insane."

"Why is it so insane?" asked Harry, letting out an angry sigh. "He deserves it!"

"Okay, but Sirius Black probably has far more experience than you, and would be far more able to kill you than you are to kill him." she pointed out. "I mean, he's in his thirties. You're barely thirteen. You don't even know how to kill him. Just leave it to the dementors and the ministry. They'll – catch him." Her face warmed up, and she knew she was blushing heavily. She crossed her fingers under the table.

"He's already broken into the school and they haven't caught him." said Harry. "How will they find him if they have no idea where he is?"

"Harry, you have no idea where he is." said Lilleth exasperatedly. "Please. Don't go after him. It's the stupidest idea you've ever had, and I have seen every single one of your stupid ideas."

"Do you still think that he might be your dad?" asked Harry sharply.

Lilleth hesitated. "Well." she said eventually. "I suppose I won't know until I ask him. And until then, he's within the limit of possibility."

"You read too much."

She shrugged with a coy grin, accidentally dislodging Mourka, who yowled at her and stalked angrily off down the hall to curl up at the other end of the Gryffindor table. Lilleth rolled her eyes.

"Drama king." she muttered.

"How's Christmas at Hogwarts been so far?" asked Harry, changing the subject from Sirius Black to Lilleth's relief.

"Better than Christmas at the Dursleys'." Lilleth remarked dryly. "So colourful and cheerful. And no Dudley. Although hopefully I'll get more than socks."

"Well Hermione found my present for you since I couldn't go anywhere really in Hogsmeade." said Harry. "But I think she chose well."

"No spoilers." said Lilleth firmly.

Christmas only got better. The sparkle of decorations grew and grew as the big day neared, and even with the castle practically empty, and almost completely devoid of life, the roaring fireplaces and twinkling decorations littered the cold school, and every day brought more and more excitement. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe were strung along the corridors, mysterious lights shone from inside every suit of armour, and the Great Hall was filled with twelve Christmas trees as huge as Hagrid, glittering with golden stars. A powerful and delicious smell of cooking pervaded the corridors, and by Christmas Eve, it had grown so strong that it was hard to stop Mourka from disappearing into the kitchens and emerging with a leg of chicken.

On Christmas morning, Lilleth was awoken by a strange weight at the foot of her bed, and then a bouncing on her stomach. She opened one eye and spotted Mourka smacking at her over the duvet, and rolled her eyes, sitting up to dislodge him. He stalked up the bed towards the enormous pile of presents that had suddenly appeared at the foot of the bed, and sniffed them suspiciously.

"What do you think?" asked Lilleth with a small giggle. "You approve?"

Mourka placed his paw on one that was wrapped in brown packaging and meowed loudly.

"Let's start with that one then."

Lilleth stretched and yawned, and then joined Mourka at the foot of her bed, and grabbed the brown paper. She ripped off the paper, and winced at the smell from a large bag of cat food that tipped out onto her covers. Mourka meowed in delight and tucked in, nibbling at the little pellets very contentedly.

"Happy Christmas to you too then." said Lilleth, stroking him fondly.

She grabbed the next package – a squishy, fat parcel wrapped in gold and blue wrapping paper. She opened it up, and a soft, warm, fluffy object tumbled out; it was a jumper, dark yellow and made of the most beautiful wool, and as Lilleth held it up in front of her, she saw a black letter 'L' on the front. Along with it came a dozen home-baked mince pies, some Christmas cake, and a box of nut brittle. She bit into one of the pies and turned to the rest of the presents.

From Harry, there was a book of simple ballet routines to muggle music; from Piper, a box of chocolate frogs, one of which hopped away almost instantly and was chased down by Mourka and brought back to her, and a pair of fluffy Christmas socks; from Ginny, there was a homemade necklace covered in colourful beads. Oddly enough, the Dursleys had even sent her something: a fifty-pence piece in a plastic bag. She rolled her eyes. That was nice, she supposed.

The last package was a heavy box, and when she opened it, she found the complete set of Narnia books, and a CD of songs by a muggle band named ABBA, along with a muggle CD player that didn't have a plug like the one that Dudley had in his room. She put the CD into the player and pressed play.

You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life...

See that girl, watch that scene, diggin' the dancing queen!

"Ooh!" Lilleth cheered, jumping out of bed. "Awesome! Who's it from?"

She checked through the wrapping paper over the bed, but there was no card or note or nametag. Whoever had sent it was a mystery. But the music was so good, she didn't care. Still in her pyjamas, she slipped her feet into her new socks, and shuffled across the floor, dancing to the music as it blasted out of the CD player. No one was around to see or hear her, so she belted out a very botched set of lyrics, climbing up onto the bed and pretending she was performing at a concert with hundreds of people in front of her.

All morning, Lilleth danced and sang to all the ABBA songs, eating chocolate frogs and mince pies and nut brittle and cake, until she ran out of energy and collapsed on the bed with the first of the Narnia books. Music still played in the background, and she mouthed along to the few words she could remember as she read. Mourka sat in his favourite plant pot with his treats, occasionally tossing the bad ones out onto the floor.

It was the perfect Christmas.

No Aunt Petunia snapping at her to take the enormous turkey out of the oven. No Uncle Vernon threatening to lock her in the pantry. No Dudley stealing what little food was on her plate. No disgusting, old socks.

Music, dancing, books, and sweets.

Perfect.