Finally, the holidays arrived. In a single night, the castle was emptied out. The few students staying at Hogwarts for Christmas trickled into the deserted Great Hall late each morning, lingering over lavish breakfasts.
Even the professors became far more relaxed. Anthony never managed to be the first to arrive at Greenhouse Two. Every time he pushed the door open, someone was already settled in their seat, usually Professor Sprout or Professor Flitwick. One spontaneous night, it was even Dumbledore and Snape.
Hagrid had placed Christmas trees throughout the castle. Anthony and Professor Flitwick spent an entire afternoon decorating them. They conjured silvery frost onto every fir and set golden glitter swirling around the trees on the stair landings, like ribbons of flowing light. Then they hung un-meltable icicles on the branches of the tree by the entrance. It tinkled softly whenever someone passed through.
Peeves spent a great deal of time trying to rip the baubles off to throw at people. He yanked the trunks until they bent, but couldn't loosen a single ornament. In the end, he just turned the trees into giant slingshots, launching rubbish bins everywhere until Professor McGonagall intervened.
The reason he couldn't get the baubles off was that, just before the holidays, Madam Pomfrey had discovered, with great indignation, that Sirius Black had stuck a cardboard box full of sweets and biscuits under his bed with a Sticking Charm. Most were from well-wishers and fans who'd read the papers. Sirius hastily removed it with Professor Flitwick's help, muttering that he hadn't even used a Permanent Sticking Charm. At least he'd provided a useful spell for the staff.
Anthony had heard Sirius hadn't originally planned to leave the hospital wing on time. He seemed intent on staying at Hogwarts for Christmas with Harry and Ron.
But while chatting with the boys, Sirius happened to learn that Draco Malfoy had mocked Harry last year for staying at school "because his family didn't want him." Harry didn't care, but Sirius immediately decided to invite Harry to Grimmauld Place. He left before the students, supposedly to clean the house and prepare to meet Harry at King's Cross Station.
Apart from that, on the day the students left, Anthony ran into Harry in the Entrance Hall, trunk in hand. Harry was helping Neville look for his toad with Ron and Hermione. His snowy owl dozed with half-closed eyes in its cage.
"Don't worry, Trevor's never actually gone missing," Harry reassured Neville. "He always turns up at the last second."
Neville was still miserable. "But if Gran finds out I lost my pet again…"
"Tell her you lent him to me," Ron said gloomily, lifting the lid of a decorative Christmas box in the corner. "Say my rat turned into a man, so I wanted a hairless, cold, slimy pet."
Neville went pale. "Don't, Ron. I even used my socks to pad Scabbers' bed…"
Ron looked even more despondent.
"Alright…" He shifted a few trunks aside and peered behind them. "If we don't find him today, I'll keep an eye out over the holiday. I'll just be in the dormitory by myself anyway. Nothing else to do."
Harry sounded guilty. "You could come to Grimmauld Place with me, Ron. You know Sirius would be fine with it."
"Mmm, yeah," Ron said. "But the rest of my family's here at Hogwarts."
"Christmas is for family," Hermione said, crouching to peer under the stairs. "Not here. If only I knew the Summoning Charm." She looked up at her friends' expressions and added impatiently, "That's the charm Professor Anthony used to pull you off your broom, Harry. Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick used it to summon Davies too. I thought you two cared more about Quidditch than me!"
"We do care more about Quidditch," Ron muttered. "That's why we don't care what bloody charm they used."
"The incantation is 'Accio,'" Anthony said, smiling and nodding at a few students dragging trunks past who shouted, "Happy Christmas!" Ron jumped. Hermione straightened up quickly.
"Professor Anthony!" Neville cried.
"Accio Trevor!" Anthony raised his wand, concentrating hard on Neville's freedom-loving toad.
A moment later, something came flying through the air from the direction of the windows, legs kicking uselessly.
Anthony caught the bulgy-eyed toad and handed it to a wide-eyed Neville. "Happy Christmas, Mr. Longbottom."
Neville clutched Trevor tightly. "Happy Christmas, Professor Anthony. Thank you."
"Hurry along now, don't miss the Hogwarts Express," Anthony said. "You too, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger. I hear you're off to the Black residence, Mr. Potter?"
A grin spread across Harry's face. "Yes, Professor Anthony."
"Have fun," Anthony smiled. "Well, I wish you all a Happy Christmas. Especially you, Mr. Weasley."
Ron blushed slightly. "I'll try," he said.
…
Most people had left. Ron, it seemed, was enjoying his holiday.
With Wood gone, the Weasley twins had somehow procured the key to the broom shed and emptied it.
Madam Hooch found them one crisp morning, flying over the snow-covered Quidditch pitch with Ron and Ginny. The twins were imitating Wood, flying alongside the younger two, shouting things like, "Faster!" "Come on, move it, lad and lass!" or "I said dive now!"
"You know how those twins fly, of course, but I must say, their sister shows real promise," Madam Hooch told Professor McGonagall as they watched the four redheads clean and return the brooms. "With Charlie Weasley too… Maybe there's something in the Weasley blood for Quidditch."
Anthony heard this story in the greenhouse. He asked curiously, "What about Ron Weasley? Is he any good?" During his stay at The Burrow, the Weasley children had tried to teach him to fly a broom. By the end, he still wasn't skilled enough to judge anyone's talent.
Professor McGonagall hesitated. "He certainly knows how to handle a broomstick."
"Right," Anthony said. "As I thought, better than me."
…
Three days before Christmas, Anthony and Hagrid finally set off.
Anthony packed very little: gifts for Norbert, gifts for Charlie Weasley, Ginger the cat, the Wraith Chicken, and the Wraith Mouse.
Aside from the books Hermione had requested, Hagrid brought Norbert an assortment of things: a fluffy blanket, a package of rock cakes, several crates of brandy, and some shiny stones supposedly good for sharpening a dragon's teeth. At Anthony's urging, he abandoned the pile of dead rats, but insisted on bringing the ferret sandwiches.
Due to Anthony's abysmal flying skills, brooms were out for reaching the dragon reserve. Anthony privately suspected this wasn't entirely his fault. He doubted any broom could be found for Hagrid, even if he could strap himself to one.
They decided to take the Knight Bus to a port, then a boat to France. For some reason, the French magical community seemed to have a series of transportation options suitable for larger individuals, so Hagrid could travel in relative comfort through France. From there, they'd pass through Switzerland (not under Ministry oversight), then Austria, and finally enter the Romanian dragon reserve from the Hungarian reserve, home mostly to Hungarian Horntails.
On the other hand, Charlie Weasley and his friends would meet them at the Hungarian reserve. While the British Ministry had denied their Portkey application, they couldn't find a good reason to reject the "visiting scholar" status Professor McGonagall had applied for on their behalf. Naturally, the reserve would send someone to welcome their visiting scholars.
…
Despite liberal use of magic, it still took them a full day to reach the Hungarian dragon reserve.
The Knight Bus was its usual jarring self, but neither Anthony nor Hagrid got sick. The boat journey was pleasant. The cold morning air on their faces was bracing. As the mist cleared, they could see sunlight glittering on the sea and the coast of France slowly drawing nearer.
Hagrid's size caused some issues. He couldn't fit into the tiny bunk in their cabin. His trunk barely squeezed through the door.
So, despite booking a small cabin to avoid fuss, they ended up sitting on the deck in the wind, under the discreetly curious stares of crew and fellow passengers. Anthony ordered two coffees. The mug looked absurdly tiny in Hagrid's hand.
Hagrid had little interest in the bitter, scant drink and even less in the onlookers. Under everyone's gaze, he pulled a bottle of brandy from his pocket, poured it into his coffee, and ate his ferret sandwich for breakfast. Anthony smiled at a passenger staring, horrified, at the tail dangling from between two slices of bread, and nudged Hagrid hard with his elbow.
They disembarked. Anthony overheard two people whispering about whether the "gigantic man with strange eating habits" was part of a circus troupe, speculating that he might survive being stuffed into a knife-throwing cabinet.
Overall, their time in France went surprisingly smoothly. French wizards could travel in enormous carriages. They looked like something out of Cinderella. They were all glittering with gemstones, with reins woven from golden thread.
Anthony did the conversion between Galleons and French magical currency. The fare was almost as steep as the Knight Bus, and the ride nearly as bumpy. Through the crystal glass windows, the scenery outside blurred into streaks of color as they sped along, like racing through flowing paint. But this paint was mixed with countless tiny pebbles that made the carriage jolt constantly.
After what felt like an age, the carriage finally stopped. Anthony pushed the door open and found himself on a mountainside. Snow and ice stretched in every direction. Aside from the distant grey-brown peaks and dark rocks peeking through the snow, there was only whiteness.
He climbed out and turned. The four winged horses stood calmly in the snow, heads tilted, their blindfolded eyes seemingly fixed on him.
Hagrid squeezed out of the carriage, patted a horse's neck, and pulled a bottle of brandy from his pocket, holding it to the animal's mouth. Before Anthony could react, all the horses grew agitated. They stamped their hooves, swished their tails, tossed their heads with loud snorts, and pushed their broad muzzles towards the tiny bottle, lapping at it with wide tongues.
"Heard French horses like a drink," Hagrid said.
The horses were already gnawing at the bottle's neck with their teeth. They beat their wings, as if trying to snatch it from Hagrid's grip.
…
If not for the crates of brandy Hagrid had brought, they'd planned to take a train.
But that was that. With four winged horses clip-clopping behind them, boarding a train without violating the Statute of Secrecy would be tricky. Anthony also wasn't sure if one needed to buy tickets for winged horses. Maybe he'd need four bicycle fares.
In any case, they ended up trekking through the snow-covered mountains for a long time.
Thankfully, neither Anthony nor Hagrid minded the cold. Sadly, the winged horses didn't seem to mind either, following Hagrid so persistently that Anthony began to worry they'd smuggled four horses and a fancy carriage out of France.
Fortunately, Hagrid eventually reached an agreement with them, however he managed it, and they transported him and Anthony to the Austrian-Hungarian border for the price of four bottles of brandy.
…
Hagrid climbed down from the carriage and checked his remaining supplies. "Norbert won't mind," he muttered. "Norbert's a generous little fellow. Happy to share."
Anthony watched the winged horses vanish into the sky, the carriage tinkling behind them.
"Hagrid?" he said.
"Hmm?"
"Think Norbert would mind sharing a rock cake or two with me?" Anthony asked. It was lunchtime. His converted Swiss francs were useless here, and he didn't have enough Austrian schillings or Hungarian forints.
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