Hogmanay on the Astronomy Tower



It looked rather like a living creature, with its gold and red tail. It soared across the night sky, joining a sparkling silvery bat the size of a double decker and some pulsating, eel-like blue and green spirals that swirled across the dark sky, sending zaps of electricity in all directions. Together, they lit up the entire grounds: Hagrid’s hut, the Beauxbaton carriage, the quidditch pitch and the Lake with the Durmstrang ship.

Humming excitedly to himself, Albus produced a second red and gold creature, it swelled and it swelled, a glimmering monstrosity shouldering its way out of tight confinement. Sparks tickled his fingertips. A shriek sounded as the firework reared its garnet-eyed head and took flight, leaving a merry crackling and the smell of roasting chestnuts in its wake.

There were ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ coming from down below, and Albus couldn’t resist leaning over the parapet. Hundreds of pointy black hats lit up in red and green, then purple as what looked like a wildly spinning amethyst of epic proportions launched itself out of his wand. It exploded into a pleasingly symmetrical sun high up in the air.

“A dragon, that’s what we need,” he said to himself, and no sooner had the words left his mouth than a lifelike Common Welsh Green flapped its enormous, glitter-based wings and breathed what appeared to be real fire dangerously close to the Whomping Willow.

“Oh dear.”

There were worried shouts coming from the students.

The Willow, however, was quite ready to fight back; it threw thirteen punches at once and sparkling holes burned where it connected. Another roar from the wounded dragon and the whole thing went up in emerald flames, pew pew pew, a last flapping of wings and it disintegrated.

“Probably for the best,” Albus said to cheer himself up, “let’s give them a cat instead, shall we?”

No sooner had he suited his words to action (the fur was an explosion of ever-moving glitter and the creature leapt across the sky in pursuit of the bat) than a dour voice sounded behind him:

“Quite a show you’re putting on for the wee ones.”

“Alastor!” Dumbledore said, spreading his arms wide in welcome. “I would have brought drinks if I knew you were joining me. And how are you this fine Hogmanay?”

“If Flitwick or Sprout try to get me to sing Auld Lang Syne one more time I’ll lock them inside my suitcase till next year,” Moody grumbled.

Albus laughed appreciatively, then they both had to duck as a madly frizzling eel undulated past them, closely followed by the glitter cat which pounced across the roof of the castle in one effortless lounge, just missing the backend of the eel. The pair left behind a strong smell of peppermint and freshly cooked cranberry jam.

Leaning heavily on his staff and squinting up at Albus, Moody took out his hip flask and had a sip. He didn’t seem inclined to offer any to Albus, and to cover up any awkwardness Albus raised his wand and waved it a little. A swarm of orange butterflies flapped their wings, which had electric blue eyes that shot out sparklers with every flutter.

“Ah, excellent. Plum tarts, I think. Tell me, how are you finding it so far? Teaching?”

Moody was quiet for a long time. His magical eye was swirling in its socket, no doubt there was a lot to take in, but his other eye was frowning and remained fixed on Albus.

“You were right,” he conceded finally. “I had missed it. Being around young people. Not that I would normally compare fresh-faced auror recruits to the idiots that mill about within these walls, but… Though they are bloody annoying, I had missed it.”

“I recall you speaking very highly of the last ones you trained before you retired. There was a witch – Tonks, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right.”

Albus hummed a few notes of a jolly carol and shot one more firework bat into existence, wand pointing over his shoulder. There was an excitable, crackling purr and the noise of desperately flapping wings. The bat, decidedly, smelled of mulled wine.

“Always so smug, Dumbledore,” Moody grunted. “But I suppose I was beginning to lose myself. I’d been alone for too long, locked away… Nothing but my own thoughts for company.”

Albus was rather surprised by the level of candour, but before he could respond Moody continued:

“Your invitation came at just the right time. Gave me things to plan. You could say I was reborn. I find I’d subconsciously begun planning lectures long before I accepted the post. I know better than anyone what they all need to know. What horrors they might meet when school’s out. Which counter curses need be taught to the new generation. I enjoy teaching them, especially as most of them are in dire need of a wakeup call.”

“All while keeping it perfectly age-appropriate, of course,” Albus said genially.

“It’s given me a new angle from which to consider my time in the war, too. Remember the trap that killed the McKinnons?”

Albus shuddered and turned away. The cat looked like a flying squirrel, launching itself over the treetops in the distance, still hot on the eel’s trail. The phoenixes had begun chasing the cat, though, they were shooting ruby red flames after it.

“I interrogated one of the Death Eaters responsible, afterwards. In ’81, straight after His fall. When we finally caught some of them. Wide-eyed thing this one was, not much more than a bairn –”

“Plenty of them were.”

“He fell hook, line and sinker for the propaganda, of course. Bored, too, with his life. Under pressure from his parents.”

Albus sighed and raised his head to watch his creations soar and explode overhead.

“In the end, he went along because it felt like a game. Tracking us down, one by one. Setting traps where they thought we might be. We fought back, too, much better than the muggles. It was good fun. Bit of a thrill. That’s what he said.”

“Unfathomable,” Albus mumbled. The light and colour were making kaleidoscopes of his moist eyes.

“I’ve come to realize it’s what young people are like. Easily fooled. Outraged at the slightest hint at how the world really works. But you also have to make it a bit of fun, a bit of a challenge if they’re to make a real effort.”

“We can’t let it happen again. History mustn’t repeat itself.”

Both Moody’s normal and magical eye stared thoughtfully into his. He nodded and said:

“That’s why I’m here.”

They stood in companionable silence for some time. Albus produced another few fireworks; a topaz-winged hippogriff as well as an opalesque acromantula. The latter had firecrackers for eyes and barely kept itself airborne, eliciting some pleasingly high-pitched screams from the students as it propelled itself across the lawn.

Albus noticed his old friend eyeing his clothes with a sceptically raised eyebrow. Albus had chosen sapphire-coloured robes with a lot of silver brocade and jewels shaped like snowflakes. The matching hat Madam Malkin had let him have for free.

He almost gave into the impulse of giving Moody a twirl.

“Nice socks,” Moody said.

“Hmm?”

“Your socks. I’ve seen some good ones already this Christmas, but yours take the biscuit.”

“Hagrid knitted them for me,” Albus said protectively. “He said he chose the yarn according to what colours he thinks suit me.”

“Looks like he picked every shade of the rainbow to me.”

Albus smiled to himself as he remembered unwrapping the gift days previously. There had been a lot of ribbon, and even more tape, but it had been absolutely worth it. The socks had looked like pure happiness to him. They had also been so large Albus had a sneaking suspicion that Hagrid had modelled them after his own feet.

“Yesterday I found out they had somehow made their way into my regular washing basket, although of course they should be dry clean only. Luckily, though, Hagrid had the foresight to make them on the larger side, so there was no harm done.”

“They look like they fit,” Moody grunted.

“They’re very warm.”

Together, they looked out over the grounds. They could hear Professor McGonagall shepherding the students back inside. The cat had finally caught one of the eels and was hovering in the sky, devouring its pray. After the last swallow, the sky lit up as the cat exploded into a thousand white and gold stars. The air smelled of Christmas.