Magic? || Years 1-5

Goodbye To The Firebolt: Year 3

It was a very tense in the Gryffindor common room that snowy Christmas morning.

Crookshanks was locked in Hermione and Amisty's dormitory, occasionally a muffled spitting and scratching making its way down through the closed and, to Ron's angry orders, locked door.

Hermione was furious with him because he had tried to kick her cat, and he was furious with her because of Crookshanks's attempt to eat Scabbers.

Again.

Amisty was sitting beside Harry, occasionally shooting glances over at Ron and Hermione, who were glaring at each other from either side of the room.

Though she had little interest in broomsticks and Quidditch, she did find an interest in the broomstick. It was probably the most expensive thing she'd ever touched, and Harry was absolutely jubilant about owning it. Besides, it helped her avoid conflict.

Dinnertime rolled around, and they headed down to the Great Hall to find the House tables pushed off to the side.

Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick were already there, as well as a nervous first year and a very glum looking Slytherin, and they were all sitting at a table set for twelve.

"Merry Christmas! As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the House tables... Sit down, sit down!" Professor Dumbledore greeted them merrily as they walked closer.

They took a seat on the side of the table, Harry and Amisty between Ron and Hermione.

"Crackers!" Professor Dumbledore held out a massive silver noisemaker over to Snape, who very grudgingly pulled on the other side.

With a loud bang, Amisty winced, a large pointed witch's hat with a stuffed vulture perched on top of it.

She choked on her own spit, hiding her laughter with a cough.

Snape didn't look too pleased, pushing the hat toward Professor Dumbledore, who took off his wizard hat and placed it on his head with a smile.

"Dig in!" He beamed.

Amisty spooned some roast beef onto her plate hungrily, looking up at the sound of soft, dragging footsteps.

Soon after, the doors of the Great Hall swung open, revealing Professor Trelawney, in her mysterious glory. The sequins on her green dress sparkled in the lighting.

"Sybill, this is a pleasant surprise!" Professor Dumbledore stood up.

"I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster, and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness..." She murmured mistily.

As usual.

"Certainly, certainly Let me draw you up a chair," Professor Dumbledore twirled his wand, blue eyes sparkling underneath his half-moon spectacles.

A chair appeared in midair, spinning slightly before setting down between Snape and Professor McGonagall.

The Head of Gryffindor didn't look very happy.

Professor Trelawney didn't sit down, however, and her gaze roamed the table before she screamed softly.

"I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!" She exclaimed, hand to her heart.