With winter's full arrival, snow once again began to swirl outside the castle windows, skimming and tapping against the frozen panes.
The Gryffindor students had only just finished two full weeks of celebration… after defeating their sworn rivals, Slytherin, in the first Quidditch match of the season.
And then, almost abruptly, they realized that Christmas was fast approaching.
Rubeus Hagrid had begun preparing more than half a month in advance, hauling in—entirely by himself—the twelve indispensable Christmas trees for the Great Hall.
Holly and metallic foil were wrapped around the stair railings; everlasting candles flickered inside the helmets of the suits of armor; and along the eighth-floor corridor, great bunches of mistletoe hung at regular intervals.
"Professor Dumbledore!"
A Gryffindor girl came to a hesitant stop and greeted him nervously.
"Good morning!"
Albus Dumbledore replied with a gentle nod before walking straight into his office.
All of this had long since become routine.
...
He first placed the pale purple robe on the nearby coat rack and changed into a slightly smaller set of casual clothes. Then he added another log to the fire. Jon settled himself behind the Headmaster's desk.
"Woo—woo—woo—"
A light, airy birdcall drifted over from the side.
Jon glanced at the phoenix, whose face was full of eager anticipation, and shook his head helplessly. He stood up, walked over to the pale purple robe on the rack, and took a small pouch from one of its pockets.
Opening it, he placed the leaves inside onto the bird tray—
Fawkes let out several delighted cries and immediately began eating with enthusiasm.
"Those are fresh Morsel leaves—very precious ones!" Headmistress Dilys Derwent exclaimed in surprise from the wall of portraits. "Jon, where did you get them?"
"It was easy," Jon explained, shaking his head with mild resignation. "I just told Pomona that my injuries required some of them, and she hurried off to get them for me. It seems all the professors think my injuries are extremely serious—there's nothing I can do about that."
Several of the headmasters covered their mouths, struggling to suppress their laughter.
Fortunately, their composure held, and no one actually laughed out loud.
"What a waste on that foolish bird," Phineas Black muttered, shaking his head. "Fresh Morsel leaves—one hundred years ago they already cost two Galleons per leaf. Now they're worth at least five times that."
Fawkes shot Phineas an indignant glare, and he promptly fell silent.
"Alright, let's leave that aside," Jon said, taking the initiative. "Anything new lately?"
"Of course…" Several headmasters, who had clearly been waiting for this, spoke almost in unison.
"Horace sent you an invitation," they said, and after exchanging glances, Armando Dippet spoke first. "He hopes you'll attend the Christmas banquet he's hosting… on Christmas Eve."
"Slughorn's Christmas dinner?" Jon frowned slightly. "Hasn't that always been limited to students—Horace Slughorn's favorite students, that is?"
"Yes," Armando Dippet continued, "but Horace told me there will be a small change this year. What do you think, Jon? Shall I decline on your behalf?"
Jon lowered his head in thought for a moment, then shook it. "No, Armando. Tell Horace I'll be there on time."
"Oh, very well," Armando Dippet nodded.
"Then you'll be rather busy on Christmas Eve," Phineas Black drawled lazily from the side. "Alastor Moody—that ugly Auror—is planning a small Order of the Phoenix gathering at Grimmauld Place before dinner that evening. You'll certainly have to attend. But if you calculate carefully, you should just barely make it back to the school in time for the banquet."
"Alright. Thanks for the reminder, Phineas. I'm aware," Jon replied calmly.
"There's one more thing," Headmistress Elizabeth Burke added. "Severus asked me to pass along a message. Horace Slughorn has received a crate of exceptionally fine oak-aged mead from Glenward as a gift—and that crate is very likely problematic."
"Understood. Thank you, Elizabeth," Jon said, nodding as he absentmindedly touched the silver goat figurine in his hand. "Though I was already aware of that."
"I'm only repeating the warning," Elizabeth Burke explained. "Also, Severus said he would be visiting the Headmaster's Office later. It seems there's something he needs to discuss with you."
"Something more important than that questionable mead?" Jon paused briefly, then nodded.
"Dexter, remember to tell Severus the new password to the Headmaster's Office."
"I understand. The new password is 'chocolate puff,' correct?" Headmaster Dexter Fortescue replied.
...
Half an hour later, there was a knock at the door of the Headmaster's Office.
Professor Severus Snape entered, his expression grave.
"Good morning, Severus," Headmaster Albus Dumbledore greeted him with a smile. "What brings you here?"
"Albus…" Snape nodded. "You're already aware of the mead matter, I assume…"
"Of course. In fact, I learned of it earlier than you," Dumbledore said lightly. "I knew about the gift Madam Rosmerta brought Horace more than half a month ago."
"I have no doubt," Snape replied evenly. "Then… do you still require my assistance with Draco Malfoy?"
"Absolutely. I'm counting on you, Severus," Dumbledore said seriously, nodding.
"Very well. That won't be a problem." Snape drew a deep breath. "There's one more thing… I've found something."
"Oh?" Dumbledore paused, slightly taken aback. "What did you find?"
"A year and a half ago, someone disguised as me paid a visit to Number Four, Privet Drive," Snape said coldly.
"Oh? Is that so?" Albus Dumbledore's expression shifted almost imperceptibly.
His right hand slipped quietly into his pocket.
Snape, however, noticed nothing. He continued in a low, ominous voice.
"I uncovered a crucial piece of information at the Ministry of Magic… On that very same day… Dolores Umbridge also appeared on Privet Drive, in Little Whinging, Surrey."
"Wait… Professor Umbridge?"
Dumbledore looked genuinely startled.
"That's right," Snape nodded.
"That can't be a coincidence, can it, Dumbledore?"