Harry looked at the young blonde, who had her own earnest eyes focused on his in a disconcerting level of earnestness. Careful thought went through his response, one never knew what response a poorly-considered comment would elicit from the youngest Lovegood. To ask for a repeated statement would earn him an amused smirk, but to speak in ignorance would fling open the proverbial barn door to Merlin only knew what chaotic mysteries. All probably deemed ‘cute’ and given pink bows to wear, if the hippocampus incident were any indication.

                “Why,” he selected each word with the same care an explosives expert chose a wire. “Why would you need a dozen bear traps, when you have already caught Santa. Remember last year? The …” he waved a hand, ineffective motions describing the sheer bedlam surrounding the last occasion. “That.”

                Luna dimpled at him. “I’m not going to try to catch Santa here, why would I do that?”

                Choosing to not answer, Harry felt, was the best answer available.

                “Besides, I left instructions with Alex,” she continued. “It’s something she can do that won’t harm the nargles and will bring joy to their lives. They lack so much happiness, don’t you agree? So that’s only half of what I need though. You forgot the bathtub of pudding, the dolls, the bathtub of pudding, a nineteenth century guillotine, a bathtub of pudding, and a large burlap sack.”

                “You forgot a bathtub full of pudding,” Hermione commented from her protective haunt to one side. Lord Slytherin’s Manor held a magnificent library, where they were gathered, and the bookworm’s customary nook held enough tomes to create a defensive wall of knowledge between herself and Luna’s … eccentricities.

                “Ooh, right. Can’t forget that! And a bathtub –“

                “Full of pudding,” Harry finished. “I know. Um, Luna, this might sound crazy,” he powered past the non sequitur thought process, “But why do you need all this?”

                A small frown went across her lips. “Well, I suppose I don’t need a nineteenth century guillotine. It can be a modern replica. But I need Reinheitsgebot and Red Bull. That’s non-negotiable. This is important Harry, very important.”

Harry paused. This was a face one did not see often on Luna. It was a serious look, wise beyond her years. He had to think; Luna often made requests for the sheer inanity, but there were times when her preparations assisted him in dividends. If this was serious enough to make Luna act serious – barring the pudding, which was just Luna, he hoped – then he would give it the same serious nature.

[break]

                Christmas was coming soon. Lord Slytherin’s party had gone well, very well indeed, thoughts of Luna’s odd requests fading into the ether. Harry now had the freedom to stay at the Manor as long as he wished, escaping the controlling influences he’d faced for years now. The events that had yet to occur only counted in a karmic sense, although he wasn’t sure how to explain that in any court of law. Goblins might have performed a Ritual or something necessitating a great deal of blood, and the Heir rings somehow managed to retain that information by means he did not understand, but outside of those disciplines he remained uncertain.

                A Catch-22 the muggles called it? He needed the book to learn the law, but the law made the book illegal.

                “Harry?” Luna had her lower lip sticking out, eyes large and timid. She actually looked scared. “Harry?”

                The book lowered to the desk, a tome the Ministry would’ve confiscated on general principle if not because of his biological age. “Yes, Luna?”

                “Can you stay up with us tonight?” her eyes were begging him to agree, silvery depths near swimming in tears. “It’s going to be Christmas Eve tomorrow, this is important. We don’t want to be alone tonight. We can’t.”

                His legs were moving even before he’d made a conscious decision. It as an Evil power she held … or at least would be Evil if she ever used it for selfish purposes. Even now Harry wasn’t sure if this wasn’t for her own benefit. Memories began to drift back – was this connected to her requests in the prior month?

                Luna led him back towards the Christmas tree, which stood in resplendent glory in one corner of the Library. Hermione and Ginny were already bundled in a mass of blankets, and he was certain that Daphne was hiding within the folds of some larger mass of soft fabric. But for the moment, he was given a pillow to sit upon, and a blanket for his legs. Luna then placed herself on his lap before he could move, pushing back firmly until his back hit the sofa’s edge, flanked by Hermione and Daphne – he thought. At least the guillotine was no longer present, it would’ve been awkward to explain to the guests. Well, most of them.

                “Um …” he looked down at the blonde girl who was now pulling a full-fledged quilt even further up, covering the both of them. The sheer violence of colors seemed to be an assault on the eyes, not unlike Dumbledore’s choice of robes, but it felt warm. The fabric stopped just above her nose, leaving only the top of her head and eyes visible. “Luna. What are you doing?”

                “Shhh!” her quiet response somehow hissed like a den filled with snakes. “You’ll let him know we’re awake. Hermione, Daphne!”

                Harry was not surprised when the large blanket being shared by the two girls behind and above flipped over his head, leaving him free to stare at a dark fuzzy blackness. He opened his mouth to protest, only to feel a hand clasp itself over the material.

                “You too,” a hissed whisper muttered in the general direction of his chin. “Pretend to be asleep.”

                Something rammed into his left scapula, followed by a muttered apology. Hermione had bony knees – something that had apparently avoided notice. He ignored it, and the faint sensation of terror closed-in conditions always brought on him; this was a blanket in his own home, which made it more than bearable if still uncomfortable. Was it getting warmer? No … that was Luna, her body heat becoming stronger compared to the rest of the room.

                Concentrating, Harry could detect the temperature shifting, an unnatural chill running across his thigh. It felt like tiny insects stabbing crystalline legs into his flesh. A discreet Warming charm did nothing.

                Faint noises reached the interior of the Library, scraping scuffling sounds. It sounded like a large dog, testing the boundaries of a cage, if that dog were as large as a dragon, and the cage happened to be a manor with some of the best defenses money could buy. There should’ve been an alarm, the house elf should’ve come by to investigate or at the least warned Harry about potential intruders. But nothing happened; the unknown being scratched against the external wall, tapping against the glass with something cold and hard, before falling silent.

                Cold fingers made their presence known as Luna squeezed his hand.

                Along the near wall, the faintest of sounds suggested a massive something winding against the hardened exterior. It was like the ice forming on the edges of a still, calm lake. Indescribably gentle, but all the more terrifying in that invisible approach. Gurgling noises added to it, the gulping sounds ignoring the fortress-grade soundproofing. He’d have to see the goblins about that – provided whatever was passing through Goblin guaranteed barriers did nothing to delay him. Nothing like this had happened in the previous timeline … although at this point the known history was derailing faster than a suggested reading list in front of the Ravenclaw table.

                Out of sight, his long fingers clenched on his wand, maledictions ancient and new running through his mind.

Long, slow gulps were still emanating through the wall, of some beverage that couldn’t be described, Harry was sure. Something that resisted the frigid cold outdoors, when a flung bucket of boiling water would change states from boiling to solid in an eyeblink. Voldemort’s memories provided many such liquids, and ten times as many monstrosities that would find them tasty.

               Luna shuddered, as if reading Harry’s thoughts.

               The drinking sounds stopped … then resumed. But then they began to slow, stopping several times as time went on. The chill deepened, warmer than the outside Harry theorized, by the slimmest of margins. He couldn’t block the sensation of cold as normal. It penetrated his Occlumency barriers with ease, slicing shields that kept out the most powerful wizards of their time in a fashion that suggested it didn’t even feel them.

              Over the course of the next fifteen minutes, it continued drinking at slower and slower rates, ending with a faint thump.

              Luna shot off Harry’s lap so fast the blanket pressed itself to her form, creating the illusion of a Luna-shaped, patchwork phantasm flowing over the Library’s wooden floor. She tore it off as she ran, screaming in excitement.

              Likewise, Hermione and Daphne launched themselves over Harry’s shoulders, dutifully following their younger associate. Ginny, however, was almost beyond Luna’s position as they hurtled for the nearest exit. It as a burst of fabric, too many feet, too many hands and an experience in Newtonian physics for Harry. By remaining still, he hoped to avoid instigating further repercussions on his own person; the percussive force of what was present he felt more than enough.

              The Library was devoid of movement for a time, blankets strewn over the floor, a few books lying on their sides. Harry picked one up, Care and Feeding of Unruly Mobs, by Selig Franz-Unterbooten. It had Luna’s characteristic markings, a faint spot where pudding would’ve been licked away, and a multi-colored doodle on the exposed page. Hermione would remove it with extreme prejudice, meanwhile reveling in the authority of maintaining their library. That’s part of why Luna did what she did, he felt.

              Heavy footsteps came towards the room again. Harry stood up, arranging his evening robe as best as possible to evoke a certain dignity – what hadn’t been trampled by teen and pre-teen feet.

              Luna’s cheerful face peered around the door. “We got him! We got him Harry!”

              “Did you now?” He folded his hands, waiting.

              Her head vanished, replaced by her hindquarters as she started pulling a large burlap sack into the room. The other girls helped, Daphne and Ginny focusing wands on the lolling bulge inside. Hermione held the other end with her wand, levitating the entire package just above the floor, creating a friction-free surface for Luna to use.

              The bag squirmed in long, undulating motions. Harry eyed it with trepidation.

              “Harry,” Luna chirped, getting his attention. “Repeat after me: “I Harry,”

              “I Harry,” he frowned a little.

              She beamed at him. “Do permit this visitor safe passage until the moon sets.”

              His frown deepened. Granting carte blanche to random visitors, or intruders for that matter, did not sit well with him.

              “Harry,” Hermione sighed. “It’s like last Christmas.”

              Raising a questioning eyebrow, Harry checked with Daphne and Ginny, who gave hesitant nods. Whatever it was they weren’t happy about it, but they weren’t overly worried either. Finally he nodded. “Do permit this visitor safe passage until the moon rises, or he acts against my home.”

              A small frown creased Luna’s forehead, but it smoothed out. “Goody! Now come on out you!”

              To Harry’s surprise she produced a large stick out of nowhere, and began beating the sack. The burlap yelped before flopping around until a hideous face appeared out of the far side. It looked somewhat akin to a goat – if goats had flat faces, purple pupil-less eyes, and an aristocratic nose. It was followed by a massive torso, looking larger than the sack from which it came, covered in scars and whipcord muscles. Soon after that a pair of haunches – there was no other word for it – pulled out of the sack, two furred thighs of bestial proportions terminating in cloven hooves.

              Harry’s wand wasn’t pointed at the strange creature, but it did not have the casual air of something placed on a shelf either. “Who … or what … is that?”

              “Harry, meet Krampus. Krampus, Harry. Lord Slytherin, if you want to be formal,” Luna pulled away. She darted to the doorway once more, and came back pulling another, larger sack. “Here’s your bag Mister Krampus.”

              Shrieking metal, followed by the murderous noise of sharpened iron meeting iron echoed out the doorway. Luna looked back, then down at the sack in her hands, and shrugged. “A little close, but they’re all right!”

              Harry looked down, then up at the taller form. “You … Krampus?”

              The gruesome figure seized the bag from Luna and hauled it over his shoulder. Small voices seemed to protest, then fade into soft whimpers. “Krampus. Yes. Shoulda known a Lovegood was here, after Nick asked if I’ve been here.”

              “Nick?” Harry glanced at Hermione.

              “Saint Nicholas, Santa Clause. Or, just Santa,” she explained.

              “Aye,” Krampus hefted his bag, letting it bounce a little, eliciting more quiet screams from the interior. “Nick. We go way back. Luna’s crazy for Nick’s bag – not so much for mine, heh.”

              “Screaming children,” Luna folded her arms. “You put them back by morning, right?”

              Expressive purple eyes without pupils somehow managed to roll at her. “Yes, yes Luna. I’ve been doin’ this job for a while now. Never more than a full night.”

              “That’s not what Ronald said before you stole his memories,” Luna countered, arms akimbo now.

              “Mistakes happen!” the tall figure argued. “I had a busy night and a loose seam in the Temporal stitching. Besides, the little blighter had it coming, always eating Nick’s cookies before he got there.”

              Harry felt a headache coming on. “So … you go around kidnapping children and putting them back …?”

              “It’s a living,” Krampus paused. “One mo’.”

              He stepped back, taking the bag and started whirling it overhead. It rotated in increasing speeds, twirling faster and faster until a blur. The quiet screams grew louder, more shrill than before until one by one they faded back to nothing. Krampus settled the bag on one shoulder once more. “Sorry, gotta do that every fifteen minutes or so or they start getting ideas. Say,” he directed a glare at Luna. “You ain’t gonna try taking Nick’s stuff this year are you?”

              “Of course not!” Luna gave him a hurt look, seeming almost angelic in the soft lighting. “We have a bargain and I never break bargains.”

              “See that you don’t,” Krampus grumbled. “Bad enough I gotta tramp around without a shirt on. Gotta meet customer expectations though. Any more of that stuff around though? Could use a nip before I head back again.”

              Before he finished speaking a bowl the size of one of Luna’s pudding containers floated in. It came to a stop before the great being’s face. “Ah, that’s the stuff. Ta’ luv.”

              Before Harry’s eyes the massive being seized the bowl, draining it in a single, long swallow. His outline quavered, shimmering into a faint outline of itself before vanishing entirely, leaving nothing behind but an empty bowl and what looked to be wet hoof prints on the floor.

              “Luna,” Harry waited until he was certain his voice was under his full control. “Why did you do that?”

              She gave him a heartwarming smile. “Christmas is about Traditions, Harry. Where we came from, where we are going. You wouldn’t want me to break a Christmas Tradition by not bringing something new into our lives, would you? Besides, the Immortals get bored so much – it’s really helping them grow as individuals, don’t you think?”

              The fireplace suddenly glowed green, emanating lurid sparks into the room. A voice coughed, then cleared itself. “Lord Slytherin? Lor – bloody hell I’m doing it! Look, Slytherin. My daughter says I have to contact you. She has some ruddy bloke in a red suit tied up by the fireplace. Said young Lovegood is responsible for this. Hello? Slytherin?”

              Luna’s angelic look grew almost saint-like in response to Harry’s glare. “See? New traditions for everyone. Don’t you love Christmas?”