Chapter 17 -- Have Yourself a Geeky Little Christmas

It snowed two feet the day after my birthday -- a plus in my book, because it meant Herbology and Astronomy classes were cancelled for the time being. Don't get me wrong, goofing around with wizarding plants was a blast -- sometimes literally, since there were a few plants that didn't take kindly to being poked and prodded by curious students and were prone to biting back or just plain exploding. And being a sci-fi fanatic, I enjoyed learning more about the stars and planets, even if I dismissed most of the poodoo they tried to feed me about the alignment of planets and how Mars influenced wizarding wars and crap like that. Call me ungifted or unbelieving, but I didn't put a lot of stock in divination or astrology. But this business of studying to be a witch was a lot rougher than it looked, and seeing as "snow days" weren't likely to happen thanks to school and the dorms being in the same building, I'd take any vacation time I could get.

Actually, snow was a novelty to me, since I'd pretty much spent all my life in California and hadn't been in England long enough to experience a true winter until now. Sure, there was the one time back in the States when Dad took us all to a ski resort and promptly announced he'd never do that again -- I think Logan breaking his leg after stupidly trying the Expert slope and Dad getting the tar beat out of him after the twins stole some jerk's snowboard had something to do with that -- but two days of playing in the snow wasn't a whole lot of experience with the stuff.

So the first day that Professor Sprout told us not to bother slogging through the white stuff to get to the greenhouses, class was cancelled, I went up to my dorm room, bundled up tightly, rallied a bunch of my figures, and trooped them down to the grounds to reenact the Battle of Hoth. That went... interestingly, and nothing like Empire Strikes Back. The snow was so deep that I ended up having to shovel and pack a wide patch down to about two inches deep so figures didn't get buried. A bunch of my stormtroopers and snowtroopers ended up getting lost anyhow -- dang hard to keep track of them in all that white. And in the middle of the reenactment Jon's Homestar Runner figures happened upon the scene and decided to get involved. Someone could have freakin' told me Strong Bad carried a bazooka...

"I don't know why you're so miffed," Jango sniffed as I scraped together the still-smoking chunks of one of my AT-ATs and attempted a Repairo on it. "That was the most fun I've had in a long time."

"You weren't even there for the Battle of Hoth," I reminded him, picking up the AT-AT and examining my handiwork. Dang it, I'd reattached a leg backwards. I'd worry about how to fix it later, I guessed. "Let's go in, I'm soaked and freezing."

"Once this snow melts, I say we find a sandy patch and reenact Jabba's sail barge exploding," grinned my Luke Skywalker figure.

"I say not," Boba Fett grumbled.

Once inside the castle, the action figures scurried off in various directions, some muttering excuses such as a rugby game with the elves and hobbits or a paint bomb being set up in Snape's office. I let them scatter and hurried down to the dungeons, shivering as the damp chill of the place penetrated my already cold and soggy clothes. I needed to change out of my wet gear and take a warm bath before heading to dinner. Supposedly Dumbledore was going to be making an announcement after dinner, and I didn't want to miss it.

I opened the door to the dorm to hear Charity talking softly -- to herself, perhaps? I remained where I was, the emerald-green draperies of someone's bed concealing me from view. Charity remained a suspect on our list, so if I could gather some kind of intel...

"...blade made out of energy? Are you sure magic isn't involved?"

Twitterings and beepings answered her question. I scowled. Artoo, you traitor.

"Whatever that means." A swish of paper through the air as a book page was turned. "The Force? It sounds sort of like magic, but not as useful. You can't even conjure anything with it."

More beeping.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand you." Another page turned. "Eew! He's hideous! That must be a dementor with its hood back... no, it's a person... Emperor Pal... pa... tine?"

"Pal-pa-TEEN," I corrected, stepping out of my hiding spot to see Charity sitting on my bed, Artoo perched beside her and my Star Wars Visual Dictionary spread open on her lap.

There was a brief moment of silence as we regarded each other. Then Charity slammed the book shut, swept a wailing Artoo to the floor with a jerk of her arm, and shot to her feet as if she'd just sat on something sharp.

"Ask before you poke around with my stuff," I ordered.

"I thought it was one of my textbooks!" she said with a hysterical ring to her voice. "I'd just opened it and seen it was Muggle trash when you walked in..."

"Poodoo, Charity, I overheard you." I righted Artoo with a nudge of my toe. "Besides, it's not a textbook. I figured the freaking SITH LORD on the cover might be a clue..."

"Whatever." She held the book up by a corner as if it were contaminated and tossed it onto my bed. "You're soaked."

"Brilliant observation," I noted. "Oh, and if you're interested in learning about Muggles, it's perfectly okay to admit it. I'll answer any questions you have..."

"What makes you think I want to learn about Muggles?" she huffed, and flounced past me and out the door.

"Geez, what's her problem?" I muttered, shucking off my damp coat. "Jango, Artoo, don't look."

"I'd keep an eye on her if I were you," advised Jango, landing on a trunk and turning his back as I changed out of my sodden clothes. "If she's gathering information on Muggles, she could be using it to plot something. For all we know, she could have Imperius-cursed Artemis into destroying her belongings."

"Imperius Curse needs power behind it," I reminded him. "More power than a first year can muster up. Ethan told me so." I pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and my Vader shirt with WHO'S YOUR DADDY? written across it. "Still, she could be gathering intel for someone else. You can look now."

"You want me to track her?" asked Jango, turning to face me.

"Nah, you're overworked enough as it is, keeping the others in line." I turned to Artoo. "I'd ask this one, but he seems to be on her side."

Artoo made a blurping noise that sounded remarkably like Indy blowing a raspberry at me.

"Where's my Threepio figure?" I asked, bending down and scooping Artoo up.

"In the Great Hall," Jango informed me, perching on my shoulder. "Something about a poker match."

"Thanks." I stuffed Artoo in my pocket and headed down to dinner.

The Slytherin table glowered at me as I walked straight past them and plopped down at the end of the Gryffindor table, seating myself between Jacob and Melody and sitting across from Chisulo and the Weasley twins. A couple serving trays had been shoved to the sides to accommodate a handful of action figures who were deeply engrossed in a hand of Texas Hold 'Em -- a random stormtrooper, Chewbacca, Jack Sparrow, Sora, Indiana Jones, Spiderman, and Waspinator. Someone, probably Ethan, had thoughtfully provided a miniature deck of cards for the figures, but the cards were still the size of restaurant menus to the figures, so needless to say the game was a touch awkward for them.

"Hey Threepio, I need your services," I announced without preamble.

Threepio, who had been standing behind Chewbacca to translate his remarks for the other players, excused himself and turned to face me. "Good evening, Mistress Wall. How may I be of service?"

"I need to question your evil twin here," I replied, pulling Artoo out of my pocket. "I need you to translate."

"My evil twin?" demanded Threepio, sounding a bit affronted. "Do I resemble an astromech unit to you?"

"Just translate for the Shop Vac," I snapped, keeping a firm grip on Artoo. This was an Episode II Artoo figure, which meant he was equipped with rocket boosters. I wasn't about to risk the little creep flying off in the middle of an interrogation.

"What did he do?" asked Melody.

"Fraternized with the enemy," I replied. "Charity Nigellus."

Chisulo gagged, choking on his trout in his surprise, and Fred enthusiastically grabbed him from behind to administer the Heimlich maneuver while George shouted encouragement and advice.

"Is he mental?" demanded Jacob. "Charity hates us!"

Artoo squealed in outrage and beeped a rapid-fire reply.

"Oh dear," Threepio noted. "He says -- and I do give an edited version of the translation here -- that Charity was merely curious as to why Emily is so fascinated with our universe. She wants to know what sort of power it holds over Muggles, as she's never encountered anything of the sort before."

"She hasn't hung around with geeks much, I take it," Fred said, letting go of Chisulo and patting his back as he gasped and coughed. "Really, it's a shame the wizarding world doesn't have tales like this to hold our fascination."

"We've already got magic, silly," George reminded his twin. "A load of this stuff that pops up in fantasy and science fiction is already possible for us with spells."

"That might be part of the problem," Chisulo pointed out, finally catching his breath again and sitting back down to finish his dinner. "When you have the power to do almost anything you wish with magic, it doesn't leave much to the imagination anymore. Muggles are very limited in what they can do compared to wizards, but that leaves them more free to imagine, explore, and create. Magic makes life easier for us wizards, but it comes at a cost."

I hadn't thought of it that way before. "That sounds like an Obi-wan Kenobi speech. Very wise."

"You're not the only one with Star Wars figures," Chisulo told me, pointing upward to where a couple of Star Wars style starfighters were circling idly -- and I knew they weren't mine, as I didn't have a Jedi Starfighter yet. "The Star Wars line of Transformers was kind of corny, but they're still pretty cool."

"Oh yeah, I have a few of those," I noted. "Vader, Boba Fett, and Grievous. Left them at home, though."

"Back to the subject at hand," Jacob prodded. "What are we going to do about Charity?"

I considered, then turned my attention back to Artoo. "You still on our side?"

He beeped affirmatively.

"Can we count on you to keep a photoreceptor on Charity for us?" I asked. "Play double agent for the time being? Give her a little info on Muggles and geeks, but keep us updated on what she's doing?"

He chirped happily.

"He would be delighted to do so, Mistress Wall," Threepio translated.

"Thank you." I set Artoo back down on the table. "Sorry for being rough earlier."

He whistled a reply before turning to go, trundling merrily down the Gryffindor table. A pair of Daleks blocked his path, but a quick jab of his zapper attachment shooed them out of his path.

"Think she could be the one?" asked Fred.

"Don't know," I replied. "Wouldn't put it past her, though."

"Charity's family is extremely anti-Muggle," Melody offered. "Her dad's been trying to push legislation to make Muggle-hunting a legal sport again. And her mum actually served time in Azkaban for helping set fire to a Muggle library."

"That's..." I had no words to express my outrage.

It wouldn't have mattered even if I had the words, however, because Dumbledore stood up and clapped his hands for silence at that moment. I couldn't suppress a giggle -- Qui-Gon Jinn was sitting on his shoulder.

"Students, I beg a moment of your attention before I release you for the night. I would like to announce something special that our Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, Professor Draconis, has suggested and planned -- a Yule Masquerade Ball!"

There was scattered but enthusiastic applause at this announcement, which I joined in with somewhat reluctantly. On the one hand, a Masquerade Ball sounded like a blast, and I was itching for another chance to wear my Vader costume. On the other hand... what exactly did Ethan have up his sleeve with this?

"We would encourage those of you who wish to attend the masquerade to write home to your families and ask permission, for this will mean you stay at Hogwarts for the holidays. And Ethan informs us that there is to be a theme for this event -- Worlds Beyond and Below. In less vague terms, it is a science-fiction themed masquerade."

Oh, so THAT'S what he had up his sleeve.

"Hogwarts faculty can help you secure a costume... unless you already have one or wish to create one, of course." Here Dumbledore's gaze flickered toward me, and a slight smile quirked his lips. "The masquerade will take place on Christmas Eve night, so please plan accordingly. Thank you, students, and have a good evening." He sat back down.

"This'll be wicked!" gushed Jacob.

"I don't have a costume," lamented Melody.

"No worries, we'll help you out," I assured her.

I looked up at the staff table in time to see Ethan give a rather chilling smile. This did not bode well. A smile like THAT meant some form of madness was brewing in that Dragonkin brain of his...

Break...

My parents were less than thrilled to hear that I wanted to bail on the traditional Wall family Christmas in favor of the Yule Masquerade. They just couldn't understand why anyone would choose a festive costume party over screaming kids, nosy relatives, a tackily decorated tree that would get knocked over at least four times over the course of the holidays, choking down fruitcake, and trying to get excited over presents that would get returned to the store two days after Christmas. In the end, they relented and agreed to send my Christmas gifts to me via owl post so I could open them at school Christmas Day. Excellent, most excellent...

Since I already had a costume, I volunteered to help out various students with their own costumes, while other members of the geek club busied themselves with creating decorations, planning refreshments, and organizing a decent music selection. With my fellow geeks and the Muggle-born students it was easy enough to help them out -- most of them already had a good idea of what they wanted. It was those who knew nothing about Muggle culture that were a pain to help out, especially since many of them didn't WANT the help.

"Why Muggle science fiction?" demanded Luther at the breakfast table one morning. "If they have to have a rubbish make-believe theme, why not 'Tales of Beedle the Bard' or something? Why Muggle rubbish?"

"Be a little adventurous, Macnair," Fred advised him, hooking an arm around his neck and giving him a noogie. "Won't hurt you to dress as a Jedi or somesuch for once, will it?"

"What's a Jedi?" demanded Luther.

"Oh, you poor deprived soul," George grinned. "Emily, let us help this chap out, will you? We'll gussy him up nicely for the masquerade."

"Go for it," I told them before turning my attention back to my toast. Hey, one less whiny Slytherin for me to put up with.

When I saw Luther again in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, he was wearing his formerly long blond hair cropped short save a goofy-looking ponytail in back and a thin braid dropping down from one temple. The glower he offered me as he sat down was enough to make me giggle... and Jango fall off my shoulder laughing.

"The Padawan haircut's an excellent touch," he decided as he climbed back up my arm and back to his perch, still chuckling.

"Nice 'do, Macnair!" Ethan called out from the front of the class, looking up from his demonstration of a basic martial arts move. "Good to see someone's excited about the dance!"

Luther gave Ethan a poisonous look. "I hate you."

Ethan returned the glare with a look of mock horror. "What did I do? I'm just an innocent teacher, I swear! And don't believe the New England Crossbow Association, both those shootings were ruled accidental..."

"You're torturing us purebloods!" Luther cried. "This is discrimination! You give us purebloods poor marks and dock points from our houses, and you pander to the Mudbloods like they're special or something! And you're making us look like fools with this science fiction masquerade! I'll be telling my father about this, he has contacts in the Ministry..."

"Ol' Macnair?" Ethan replied, his faux-shock giving way to a silly grin. "The bully-boy who likes offing inconvenient beasties in the name of public safety? What'll he do, claim I bit a student and come after me with an axe?"

"Don't talk about my father that way!"

I instinctively scooted my chair back. I'd seen Luther disgusted or irritated before, but never this enraged. And Ethan didn't seem to realize he'd gone too far with the kid and was just egging him on further.

"Hey kid, if you want to go crying to Daddy, be my guest. I'll even loan you an owl -- unless your dad decides the owl's a menace to society and has it stuffed on his mantle. It'd look rather nice mounted between the killer Puffskein and the grindylow..."

"SHUT UP!" howled Macnair, and he whipped out his wand and screamed something I didn't catch.

My vision went white at the flash of the spell, and I found myself huddled beneath my desk as shock waves ripped brutally through the air and over my body. Whether my body had dove for cover without my consent or I'd been knocked over by the force of the explosion, who could say? My ears throbbed in pain, and my cheek stung like crazy. When I put my fingers to my face they came back flecked in crimson -- obviously shrapnel from the blast had caught me in the face. I wasn't badly hurt, just scratched, but still... that had been scary.

Jango extricated himself from beneath a chunk of blackboard, cursing and growling. "What the stang was that?"

I scrambled to my feet. The entire classroom was frosted with pale gray-tan dust, including the students who hadn't dove for cover in time. The chandelier in the room swung crazily from side to side, making the shadows in the room wobble and waver sickeningly. Heads popped up from beneath dusty desks, eyes wild with fright and shock. A few kids had been scratched by flying debris, but luckily no one was badly hurt. Luther himself had gone death-white -- and not just from the dust, either. He just stared open-mouthed straight ahead, his wand-arm straight in front of him. It was like he'd just frozen into a statue the minute he'd uttered his spell.

I turned to check on Ethan... and about threw up with the shock. His desk and the wall behind it had been obliterated.

"What did you do?" I demanded.

"I dunno..." Luther squeaked rather lamely.

"You little freak!" I snapped. "You killed Professor Draconis!"

"I... I didn't mean to..." he gasped. "Just wanted to... to knock him down a peg..."

"Hey, look!" shouted Jacob, pointing ahead. "That blast went a ways!"

Despite my anger I looked. A huge round hole had been blasted into the wall behind the splintered remains of Ethan's desk, giving one an excellent view of the next (thankfully vacant) classroom and the ruins there. Past the shattered desks and mangled chairs I could see the further wall of that next classroom -- and it also bore a blasted hole in the wall, albeit smaller.

Grabbing Luther and Jacob by the arms, I dragged the two of them out of the classroom and down the hall. Two doors down I released Luther's hand, flung open the door, and grabbed the kid again so I could drag him and my friend inside.

Professor McGonagall's Advanced Transfiguration class had evidently been in full swing when the disaster had hit, and the roosters and iguanas that the older students had been attempting to turn into breakfast trays were squawking and hissing and scrambling about the room in a panic, with a few kids trying vainly to calm them down. McGonagall herself was staring down at her desk with a stern expression, as if she were merely about to discipline an unruly student.

And sprawled across her desk, glasses askew on his muzzle and trench coat ripped and dusty, was Professor Draconis, looking rather dazed.

"Professor!" shouted Jacob. "You okay?"

Ethan groaned and weakly raised his head. "Someone get the number of that truck that hit me?" he managed before thunking his head back on her desk and passing out.

McGonagall turned back to her class and pointed out two students seemingly at random. "Wood, Melton, will you please carry Professor Draconis to the hospital wing? Applebee, go to Draconis' class and tell them they may be dismissed early from class. You three... have some explaining to do in my office."

Well, what else is there to say? By the time McGonagall let us go Slytherin was down another fifty points and Luther not only had detention for the next two weeks, but he would be barred from attending the Yule Masquerade. Not that I really cared on any of those counts. Still, I got the distinct impression that Luther had gone from being my enemy to being my mortal foe.

Break...

"Are you sure I'm going to look okay?"

"Melody, relax, you look gorgeous," I promised her. "Now hold still so I can tie this corset."

"Ouch! Watch it, I can hardly breathe as it is!"

"Muggles and their bizarre torture devices," muttered Felicity as she flounced past. "Honestly, you'll never catch me dead in one of those."

"Too bad, you could use one," I replied, giving the corset strings a final tug before tying them.

"Are you calling me fat?" demanded Felicity.

"Girls, girls, settle down already," Sydney chirped from the windowsill. "Focus on making yourselves beautiful, not on killing each other off."

Oh, believe me Sydney, sometimes that was tempting...

It was Christmas Eve, and the four of us -- myself, Melody, Felicity, and Charity -- were in the first-year girls' dorm, finishing up getting into our costumes. I'd spent most of the day helping various students put last-minute touches on their own outfits, but thankfully someone (I suspected Jango and the figures) had polished my Vader outfit for me and ironed the wrinkles out of the cape. Someone was getting treated to a James Bond marathon later... Melody looked gorgeous, if somewhat uncomfortable, in an old-fashioned dress styled to look like Elizabeth Swan's outfit in Pirates of the Caribbean. Charity wore a simple white dress and her hair up in buns, obviously imitating Princess Leia even though her nose and lips more suited Jar Jar Binks than anyone else. And Felicity... was she trying to be intimidating or what? Because someone had done a dang good job on her Maleficent costume.

"You're all gorgeous, girls," Sydney assured us. "You're gonna knock 'em dead out on the dance floor."

"Who's dancing?" I asked. In my limited experience, most dances involving young people involved everyone standing around on the floor staring at each other while the music played.

"So Muggles don't know how to dance?" Charity sneered. "Do you know anything of culture?"

"Lots." Hey, geek-dom's a culture. "Enough to know that having culture doesn't mean I can be a snob."

Felicity dabbed a final time at her green makeup job, then snapped her compact mirror closed and tucked it into her flowing black robes. "We're not being snobs. We're simply taking pride in our heritage. There's nothing wrong with that."

"I take pride in being a pureblood," Melody pointed out. "That doesn't mean I hate others for being half-blood or Muggle-born."

Felicity gave Melody a slightly disdainful look. "You're very lucky to have friends like us, Melody," she pointed out. "The Fenris family is, sad to say, somewhat lacking in prestige. If you just stayed with us instead of mingling with Mudbloods and blood traitors..."

Melody glowered, and despite the moon only being at three-quarters tonight I swear I saw her eyes flash an eerie, lupine gold. "I can pick my friends for myself, Felicity."

Sydney's hackles bristled. "Wow, and I thought I was the catty one here."

Felicity smirked. "You're going to regret that, Melody. Let's go, Charity, I'm dying to see how the others look..." And the Evil Duo walked out side by side, giggling and talking.

I sighed and finished adjusting Melody's dress. "What is it with girls anyhow? At least guys punch each other and get it over with."

"Ah, don't mind them," Sydney assured us, hopping lightly down from the windowsill. "They just didn't get enough spankings as kids, if you ask me. See you girls later, gotta get my own costume on and make sure Ethan hasn't blown himself through a wall again." And he trotted out.

Melody and I double-checked ourselves to make sure every piece of our costumes was in place, then hurried out of the dorm and to the Great Hall to enjoy the festivities. The geek club had gone all out to ready the place for the masquerade -- gone were the house banners, the long tables for meals, and the hovering candles that normally illuminated the room. Instead, animated models of various spaceships and starfighters circled lazily overhead, some engaging in mock dogfights for the heck of it. Images from different fantasy and science-fiction movies plastered the walls -- not static Muggle-type pictures either, but animated images that ran, battled, and acted out scenes from the movies they inhabited. A dozen towering Christmas trees occupied one end of the Hall where the teachers' table normally sat, and tables laden with refreshments drew students and faculty alike to the other end. Even the sky seemed to cooperate with the theme, because the ceiling overhead reflected a clear, cold night with every star picked out in gleaming silver-white and the ghostly band of the Milky Way clearly visible.

"Perfect," I murmured, and entered the room to mingle with those that were currently on the dance floor, waiting for the music to start.

"Emily!" shouted Jacob, jogging to catch up with me. He wore a black jumpsuit and mask that had been decorated to resemble Venom from the Spiderman series -- something that the Spiderman figure, who was hanging upside-down from the ceiling by a rope of his web-stuff, didn't seem to find amusing. "Isn't this wicked? Even some of the Muggle-haters are loving it!"

"Hey Jacob," I greeted. "And if it gets Muggle-haters loving it, more power to it."

"I hear a lot of parents weren't happy about it," Clay said darkly, absently smoothing away wrinkles from her black Organization XIII coat. "My own mum and dad complained to Dumbledore about it. Said that this sudden infatuation with Muggle culture wasn't healthy for Hogwarts."

"I don't see how it can hurt," I protested, glancing up to find Dumbledore. He was standing by the refreshment table, dressed as a Discworld character named Ridcully and sipping a glass of butterbeer as he laughingly chatted with McGonagall and Flitwick, who were dressed as Jocasta Nu and Willow respectively. Just behind McGonagall lurked a grungy-looking black-haired Wookie who scowled threateningly at everyone who came within ten feet of him. I almost thought to be sorry for Snape, but hey, if you go to Professor Draconis for help with your costume, you accept the inevitable consequences -- even if they include Transfiguration. Geez, he needed a shampoo.

Speaking of Professor Draconis, he perched himself precariously on a chair at that moment and clapped his hands for attention. It looked like he'd recovered nicely from being blasted through the wall, but then again, I was getting the impression that his was a tough species. I wasn't all that familiar with Doctor Who, but I guessed that Ethan's Doctor costume was pretty accurate -- well, if one overlooked the fact that the Doctor probably wasn't reptilian...

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "thank you for coming, and for humoring your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in this little jaunt." Here he flashed a winning smile at the Slytherins and Professor Snape, who were all giving him rather withering looks. "Anyhow, I'm not much for speeches, so all I can say is have fun, nice costumes all, and by all that's holy DON'T eat the eclairs! Ahem... that's all." And he hopped down from the chair and gestured to the side of the room where the trees were, cueing up the music.

As the peppy notes of Kook and the Gang's "Celebration" filled the Great Hall for perhaps the first time since the school was constructed, students began milling about some more, some actually daring to go out on the floor and boogie to the music, others talking, comparing outfits, or beelining for the refreshments. I swung by the table and snagged a few cookies -- I still refuse to call them biscuits -- before deciding to wander around and see what I could see. (The warning about the eclairs was a valid one, by the way -- first kid to bite into one sprouted mistletoe from his forehead. Served Montague right...)

At the far end of the refreshment table, Chisulo and a gaggle of Weasleys were discussing each others' costumes over rounds of butterbeer. Chisulo was dressed as a Transformer, predictably, and from the look of it was one of them that turned into an ambulance. I wondered if the costume was transformable, too... Charlie Weasley, wearing the pointed ears and archer's outfit of Legalos the Elf, was hanging back from the crowd, sipping a butterbeer and just smiling amusedly to himself. And the clones... excuse me, twins had dressed up as clonetroopers, identical down to the pattern of the scratches on their chestplates. And they were having the time of their lives harping on Percy -- stuffy, snobbish Percy, who had somehow been either cajoled or forced into the metallic silver armor of Bender from Futurama.

"Come on, Percy, just say the line!" Fred prodded, poking Percy in the shoulder with a finger.

"Not on your life!" protested Percy, slapping at his brother's hand.

"It's just a silly little catch-phrase," George pleaded. "Not like we're asking you to repeat You-Know-Who's name, is it?"

"If it's a silly little catch-phrase, why is it so important that I say it?" demanded Percy annoyedly. "Why don't YOU say it if you're so keen on hearing it?"

"Because it's not the same coming from a clonetrooper," Chisulo pointed out. "You have to say it for the effect."

"All right, fine!" Percy snapped, sighing. "Bite my... I can't say it... ow, don't poke me, George! Fine, bite my shiny metal ass, now leave me alone!"

Fred pumped his fist in triumph. "Whoo hoo! He said it! Charlie, you're our witness, right?"

Charlie just laughed and nodded, wisely choosing to not get more involved in this than he had to.

"Speaking of shiny metal asses, this armor's giving me a wedgie." George dug at the black jumpsuit beneath the armor plate that covered his backside. "Nasty thing... how do you stand it, Em?"

"You get used to it," I replied, though I did feel some sympathy for the kid. When your costume made your underwear creep into places underwear was never meant to go, it was never a pleasant feeling.

"Chisulo, you're wearing armor," Fred pointed out. "You dealing okay with the underwear issue?"

Chisulo just gave me a blank look, and I caught on with a groan and a facepalm.

"What?" he protested. "Like going commando is a crime..."

"Don't want to know anymore," I told him, and left the area.

Past a cuddly couple on the fringes of the dance floor dressed as Luke and Leia (did they realize how creepy that was?), around Felicity as she sulked in a chair in the corner waiting for a guy to ask her to dance, through a cluster of Klingons, mecha, stormtroopers, and fae who were watching in awe as a seventh-year Ravenclaw in a ninja outfit displayed some breakdancing moves, skirting around Professor Sprout as she showed off her Amalthea costume (it would have suited a younger, thinner woman better, but I gave her points for originality)...

And I finally found myself at the back of the room, admiring the Christmas trees. The Hogwarts professors had decorated one in the traditional manner, with the typical glass balls, snowflakes, tinsel, and candles, with a many-pointed star on top. Four of the others belonged to the Hogwarts Houses, so of course each one had been decorated with its house colors. The Gryffindor tree glittered in red and gold, and its branches were alive with prowling golden lions and hovering Snitches. The Hufflepuff tree bore yellow and black colors, as well as badgers and tiny work tools like shovels and hammers as ornaments. The Ravenclaw tree was blue and bronze, decorated with eagles and miniature books, and the Slytherin tree glistened with green, silver, slithering serpents, and portraits of famous Slytherin wizards and witches over the centuries.

The last tree... that was the geek tree. And its branches were weighed down with toy starships, symbols from the various fantasy and sci-fi universes, illustrations copied from comic books, and action figures -- both stationary action figures and living ones that goofed off and lounged to their hearts' content. At the top of the tree glittered something metallic gold and silver that I thought was an angel at first... but upon closer inspection it turned out that someone had kidnapped one of the Starscream action figures, painted him gold and silver, and duct-taped him in place. He now glowered down at me as if wishing he were a full-size Transformer so he could crush me underfoot.

After laughing a little and admiring the trees just a little longer, I turned to go... and heard a weird crunching noise coming from the depths of the Slytherin tree. Curious, I peered into the branches, one hand hovering near my wand just in case. Didn't want some lunatic tree critter to spring out and gnaw on my mask now...

A pair of acid-green eyes glowed back at me.

"Get out of there, Unicron," I ordered.

The eyes blinked at me. Then the figure gave a little snort and kept on munching.

"Just keep your snacking to this tree then, all right? Have at it all you want, but leave the others alone..."

"Wha's goin' on back here?"

I turned around and looked up... and up. Wow, I'd almost forgotten how big Hagrid was. And the costume he'd chosen -- or rather, the costume Chisulo had chosen for him -- only added to his impressiveness.

"Hagridimus Prime?" I asked, trying to be funny.

"Nah, jus' wearin' th' Optimus costume fer th' night," he replied with a shrug. "That one kid's idea... but who you talkin' to? Coulda sworn th' trees were clean o’ critters when I brought 'em in..." And he hunched down to peer into the branches with me.

"It's one of those living action figures," I explained. "Unicron. We thought he'd escaped into the Forbidden Forest, but apparently he hitched a ride back into the school in the Christmas trees..."

"Wha's a Unicron?" asked Hagrid, and he reached into the branches and dragged the figure out. Unicron squirmed in his grip, snarling and baring his teeth.

"Chisulo knows more about him than I do," I replied. "All I know is that he eats planets -- though this one's not big enough to do that, so he just eats whatever's close by..."

Hagrid's eyes lit up behind his mask, and without even seeing his mouth I knew he was grinning like a little boy who opened a Christmas present and found the toy he'd wanted all year inside. "Aww, ain't he a cutie?"

I gave Unicron another studious glance. "Cute" was not a word I would use to describe that thing. Especially now that it was gnawing on Hagrid's thumb, trying to chew through his glove and get at the digit beneath.

"Friendly, ain't he?" Hagrid said eagerly, and he scratched Unicron between the horns, seemingly oblivious to the fact that this thing was chewing on him. "Yer friend Chisulo... yeh think he'd mind if I kept th' little guy? I'd take real good care o' 'im."

"That's Chisulo's call," I replied, pointing in the direction of the Transformers nut, the clonetroopers, and the Bender wannabe. "Good luck with him."

"Thanks." Hagrid cradled the Unicron figure -- who by now stopped looking annoyed and settled for looking resigned to his fate -- and strode across the Great Hall to secure ownership of his freaky new pet. To each their own, I guess, though I much preferred dogs to planet-eating robots...

The Slytherin tree rustled again, and I glared into its branches. What else was hiding in there? The Death Star toy? Would Hagrid want that as a pet too? How would he get a collar and leash on a Death Star...

There was a zapping sound, the smell of burning bark and sap... and the tree lurched before keeling toward me.

I barely had time for a "Holy Sith!" before the world went weirdly green... then faded to black.