Chapter 74

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Despite Fred and George's promise, the next few weeks were surprisingly uneventful (not that that prevented them from finding excuses for celebration, as their "Happy November the 22nd Day!" festivities attested to). Milo's time was taken up by almost constant detentions (both for McGonagall and Snape, now) and lessons with McGonagall, but he found enough time in to research Benign Transposition, Disguise Self, Nerveskitter, and Resist Energy. If Snape had any reaction to his latest plot to expel Milo, it went unnoticed among his usual horribleness. Quirrell started a unit on vampires, which sent Hermione into a panic because it wasn't on the original reading list.

It was on a cold December afternoon when Milo returned to the Common Room to find a small crowd gathered around the bulletin board.

"What's going on?" Milo asked.

"It's Quirrell," said Lee. Fear gripped Milo's heart. Had Snape finally gotten the better of the enigmatic Defence Professor?

"What happened to him?"

"Nothin'," said Lee. "Only he's started a Duelling Club."

The bulletin had a large parchment poster pinned to it, reading SUNDAY DUELLING CLUB SIGN-UP on it, with a number of lines for people to write their names in. The lines were already all taken, and several people had scrawled their names haphazardly in the margins.

Milo grinned. Sundays were his remaining free day, so there was nothing to stop him from attending Quirrell's club and stomping some of the local 'wizards' for fun and XP. What were they going to do, shoot sparks at him?

The poster said the club meetings would start after the holiday break.

"Hey, Ron," Milo asked, picking his partymember out from the crowd. "What's a holiday break?"

"You don't even know what a holiday break is?" Ron asked, flabbergasted. "Everyone—"

Hermione coughed pointedly.

"—here would like nothing more than to illuminate you on this subject," Ron finished smoothly.

"Everyone gets to go home for Christmas," Hermione explained.

"Do we have to?" Milo and Harry asked simultaneously.

"Jinx," muttered Harry.

"What? Where?" Milo asked, looking around warily.

"Nevermind," said Harry. "It's a Muggle thing."

"No," Hermione said. "You can stay for the holidays, but almost nobody does."

"Cool," said Milo.

"Also, what's Christmas?" Milo asked. Hermione, who had the bad timing to be drinking from a glass of water right then, snorted her drink from her nose.

"What's Christmas?" she asked. "Everyone knows... ah. Ahem. It's a holiday that happens once a year on December 25th where people give each other presents."

"Do I need a costume again?"

"No. Costumes on Christmas are strictly optional."

"Will there be Trolls?"

"No, there's just Father Christmas and his elves," Hermione said, regretting it instantly.

"Elves again, eh?" Milo asked, rubbing his hands together. "Harry, put them on the list. These elves have come up enough now that I'm sure they must be relevant to something... what sort of elf are they, these ones that work for this 'Father Christmas?'"

"Christmas elves," Hermione said in a quiet voice.

"Must be an obscure, non-core subrace. I'll keep an eye out for them. What's Father Christmas?"

"He... children believe he travels to everyone's house at night on a flying sleigh and delivers presents on Christmas," Hermione explained. "But nobody really thinks he's real. People also call him Santa Claus."

"Santa Claws? This just keeps getting worse and worse!" Milo said. "He must be an exceptionally powerful caster to be able to cast enough Time Stops to get all the way around the world in a single night... unless he has a use-activated Magic Item... wow, that would be worth a fortune."

"But—he's not really real," Hermione insisted.

"I can't tell you how many times I've heard that before," Milo snorted. "'there are tales—unfounded, of course—of a fell monster in the woods...' or 'they speak, in whispered voices, of a wolf that walks among men... I'm sure it's just rumour, though.' Hermione," Milo said, in the tone of someone talking to a small, ignorant child, "if there's one thing I'm surprised you haven't learned by now, it's that all rumours are true."

"But Father Christmas isn't real," she insisted.

"Oh, really?" Milo asked. "Harry once told me that Muggles don't believe in dragons, magic, elves, or goblins," Milo scoffed. "And all of those things are real."

"That's no reason to think—"

"Hermione, how many of the things you believed as a small child, only to find out as a medium child were make-believe, turned out to be real when, as a large child, you discovered you were a witch?"

There was a brief silence as Hermione did some mental arithmetic.

"Most of them," Hermione admitted with a frown. "But come on. Father Christmas? Not even wizards believe in him—right, Ron?" Ron didn't respond. "Ron?"

"F-Father Christmas isn't real?" he asked, stunned. "Fred and George said they saw him, once..."

"Oh, he's real alright," Milo said grimly. "And worse: he's in league with the elves."

With that, Milo strode off to his favourite armchair (one in the corner which presented him with a clear view of the room, while also being close enough to the window that he could dive out and Feather Fall in an emergency), pulling materials out of his Belt of Hidden Pouches.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked.

"I have to put the finishing touches on my Robe of Arcane Might," Milo said. "I might be needing it, soon." He had to find a way to get out of his detentions, they were cutting into his crafting time. Maybe if he could slay Santa Claws and take his magic Item of Time Stop...

Milo wasn't sure exactly what this Father Christmas's connection was to the drow in the kitchen that tried to poison him, but one thing was for sure:

If Santa—or any of his little elves—tried anything on or about Christmas, they weren't going to just walk away from it.

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