The sleep that followed the brewing session was deep and dreamless, a total system shutdown. When Alister woke the next morning, the sun was already streaming through the high windows of the Great Hall, refracting off the floating enchanted icicles into rainbows of light.
He sat at the sparsely populated table, wrapping his hands around a mug of hot chocolate. The tension of the previous night—the boiling dragon blood, the unstable thunderbird energy—felt like a distant memory. His body felt light, unburdened. The potion was safe in its jar, the clock ticking down its ten days. There was nothing to do now but wait.
For the first time in months, Alister had an empty schedule.
He took a slow sip of the chocolate, savoring the warmth.
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the Hall banged open. Hagrid bustled in, shaking snow from his massive moleskin overcoat like a grizzly bear shaking off rain. He looked flustered but cheerful, his face ruddy from the cold. He grabbed a stack of toast from a platter, wrapped it in a napkin, and immediately turned to leave.
Alister watched him go. The sight of the giant man, radiating simple, uncomplicated energy, was a sight to behold. On a whim—a desire for fresh air, perhaps, or just the need to do something simple—Alister stood up.
He finished his drink in one gulp and followed.
He caught up to the Caretaker halfway across the grounds. The snow was deep here, knee-high for a normal student, but a plowed path made the walking easy.
"In a rush, Hagrid?" Alister called out, his breath puffing into the chill air.
Hagrid turned, beaming when he saw who it was. "Alister! Mornin'! Just headin' up to the edge of the forest. Professor Flitwick says the Great Hall needs one last tree—the biggest one we can find for the center spot. Want to come along? Could use a second pair of eyes."
"I'd like that," Alister said honestly.
They walked together toward the tree line. The day was stunningly bright. The storm from two nights ago had left the world coated in a thick, pristine blanket of white. The Forbidden Forest, usually a place of looming shadows and threats, looked like a scene from a holiday card. The dark boughs of the ancient pines were weighed down with snow, creating a silent, glittering cathedral of white and green.
The air was crisp and clean, scrubbing the smell of sulfur and smoke from Alister's lungs. It smelled of pine needles and cold earth.
"It's peaceful out here," Alister murmured, stepping over a buried log.
"Best time o' year," Hagrid agreed, his boots crunching loudly. "Everything's sleepin'. The Centaurs stay deep in the woods, the spiders are hibernatin'... it's just the trees and the wind."
They wandered for a while, inspecting various firs and pines. Hagrid was picky. He circled trees, muttering about symmetry, shaking branches to see how the snow fell.
"Too spindly," Hagrid critiqued a twelve-foot pine. "Wouldn't hold the heavy baubles."
"Too wide," Alister noted of another. "It would block the view of the Head table."
Finally, they found it. Standing in a small clearing, bathed in a shaft of winter sunlight, was a magnificent Nordmann Fir. It was easily twenty feet tall, dense with dark green needles, and perfectly conical. It stood proud and silent against the white backdrop.
"That's a beauty," Hagrid breathed, wiping a tear from his eye. "A proper king of the forest, that one."
Alister walked up to it, placing a gloved hand on the rough bark. He just felt the sturdiness of the wood, the life of the tree.
"It's perfect," Alister agreed.
Hagrid hefted a massive axe he had strapped to his back. "Stand back, Alister. This'll only take a second."
With a few rhythmic, powerful swings, Hagrid felled the tree. It landed with a soft whoomp in the deep snow, sending up a glittering cloud of powder.
"Right," Hagrid said, grabbing the trunk. "Time to haul it back."
"Allow me to help," Alister said. He drew his wand. He simply cast "Locomotor Trunk," adding a gentle buoyancy charm to the tree.
The massive fir lifted a few inches off the snow, becoming weightless.
Hagrid laughed, a booming sound that startled a flock of birds from a nearby oak. "Work smarter, not harder, eh? You're a good lad, Alister."
They walked back toward the castle together, guiding the floating tree through the snow-covered grounds. Alister listened to Hagrid talk about his plans for the holidays, about Fang's fear of snowmen, and about the warmth of the fires in the Great Hall.
Alister and Hagrid guided the floating Nordmann Fir into the Entrance Hall and through into the Great Hall.
The room was already a hive of festive magic, but the arrival of the centerpiece brought everything to a halt.
Professor Flitwick, standing on a pile of books to reach the lower branches of another tree, squeaked in delight. "Oh, magnificent! Hagrid, Alister, it is a triumph! Right in the center, if you please!"
Hagrid guided the massive tree to the middle of the hall, setting it down with a thud that shook the flagstones slightly. It stood perfectly straight, its tip brushing the enchanted ceiling which currently mirrored the snowy white sky outside.
"Now," Flitwick beamed, rolling up his sleeves. "For the finishing touches."
What followed was not work, but a symphony of light and color.
Flitwick waved his wand like a conductor's baton. Hundreds of golden orbs zoomed out of crates, spiraling up the tree like a swarm of glittering bees, settling perfectly onto the branches. Hagrid, humming a deep, rumbling tune that vibrated in Alister's chest, tossed handfuls of silver tinsel that caught the air and drifted down, arranging themselves in perfect, shimmering cascades.
Alister stood back, watching. This was the joy of magic, the magic cast with pure intent.
"Don't just stand there, m'boy!" Hagrid called out, tossing a box of crystal icicles toward him. "Give us a hand!"
Alister caught the box. He drew his wand.
The icicles lifted from the box, floating into the air. With a gentle, guiding motion of his wand, Alister sent them drifting toward the tree. He placed them with his signature precision, ensuring they caught the light of the floating candles perfectly, turning the tree into a glittering tower of diamond-like light.
Then came the living magic. Flitwick released a jar of live fairies. They fluttered out, glowing in shades of iridescent blue, pink, and gold. They didn't just sit on the branches; they danced, weaving in and out of the needles, their tiny wings creating a soft, chiming sound that harmonized with the crackling of the massive fireplaces.
"And finally," Flitwick announced, pointing his wand at the very top. "The star."
A massive, crystalline star floated up, settling on the apex of the fir. As it touched the wood, a pulse of warm, golden light washed down the tree, igniting every bauble and icicle.
The result was breathtaking.
The Great Hall was transformed into a winter wonderland that defied reality. The ceiling was dropping warm, dry snow that vanished before it hit the floor. The twelve massive trees around the room glowed with warmth. But the central tree, the one they had hauled from the silent forest, was a masterpiece of light and life. It shimmered and sparkled, a beacon of pure, undiluted magic that seemed to chase away every shadow in the castle.
Alister stood there, the firelight reflecting in his green eyes.
He looked at the tree, then at Hagrid's beaming, bearded face, and finally at the tiny Charms professor clapping his hands in delight.
"It's beautiful," Alister said softly. And for the first time in a long time, he wasn't analyzing the situation. He just felt it.
___________________________________________________
The snow lay thick and untouched on the path leading down from Hogwarts, glowing a soft blue under the twilight sky. It was December 24th, the air biting and crisp, but Alister was undeterred. This time he didn't use secret passage.
Before stepping past the castle gates, he pulled up the collar of his coat and tapped his wand lightly against his temple. "Neglegere," he murmured.
A subtle Notice-Me-Not charm washed over him. He didn't physically change his features, but to any passerby, his face would seem remarkably uninteresting, his presence sliding off their perception like water off a duck's back. It was the perfect disguise for a quiet evening.
Hogsmeade was a picturesque snow globe come to life. Golden light spilled from shop windows, and the sound of carolers drifted on the wind. Alister moved through the crowds.
His first stop was the warmth of Honeydukes. The air smelled of warm toffee and vanilla. He bypassed the common shelves and went for the premium selection.
He selected a box of crystalline sugar mice that squeaked a holiday tune before being eaten. He added a large bag of Glacial Snowflakes—mints that cooled the throat and made the eater breathe literal frost for ten minutes. "She'll love the aesthetic," he mused.
The chaos of Zonko's was next. Alister smirked as he browsed the shelves. he wants to give Fred and George inspiration. He bought a set of Prototype Belching Powder (labeled "Unstable" in red ink) and two Fanged Frisbees that hummed with aggressive energy.
Note attached: "Use responsibly. Or don't. I just want to see the fallout."
For Cho Chang he visited Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. He wanted something elegant but thoughtful. He chose a Pheasant Feather Quill with a delicate charm on it that corrected spelling mistakes in real-time.
For Professor Snape, he brought a set of hair care products while hoping detention would continue. For Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick a tin of high-end ginger newts from a private bakery in London, ordered via special catalog. For Hagrid he brought a book he personally liked about magical creatures.
Last but not the least, Headmaster Dumbledore. Alister paused at Gladrags Wizardwear. He purchased a pair of thick, woolen socks patterned with moving snitches. He knew the headmaster's eccentricity well enough to know this was the only gift the man truly desired.
With his bag heavy with shrunken packages, Alister ducked into The Three Broomsticks. The pub was packed, noisy, and warm. Thanks to his charm, he slipped into a booth in the shadowy corner unnoticed by Madame Rosmerta.
He ordered a Butterbeer, but he slipped the barman an extra galleon to lace it with a shot of Firewhisky.
As the tankard arrived, foaming and hot, he took a long draught. The warmth hit his chest immediately. It wasn't strong liquor, but the mild alcohol content was a welcome, familiar burn after months of school rules and pumpkin juice. He sat there for twenty minutes, watching the snow fall outside the window.
Reluctantly, he finished the drink and headed to the Hogsmeade Post Office. The smell of damp feathers and parchment filled the air.
He deftly wrapped the gifts with magic, attaching short, anonymous notes to the professors' gifts and signed ones for his friends. He paid a premium for the fastest barn owls to deliver them straight to the breakfast tables or dormitory piles the next morning.
"Fly safe," he whispered as the parliament of owls took flight into the snowy night.
With his hands in his pockets and the charm still shimmering around him, Alister began the trek back to the castle. The wind was colder now, but the warmth in his heart kept the chill at bay.
(A/N: next chapter was planned to be updated on Christmas, but my schedule got messed up)
(END OF CHAPTER)
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