Winter at Hogwarts had always been a joyous occasion. Ginny remembered the way the snow glistened off the top of the tallest towers and the way the fairy lights twinkled throughout every hallway. The Great Hall was decked with dozens of Christmas trees and charmed with falling snow that was warm to the touch. There was never a time that the castle seemed more magical than on Christmas.

But never before had Hogwarts been caught in the grip of such darkness—the war. It filled the thoughts of everyone inside the castle walls, and seemed to seep into the very air around them so that even the twinkling fairy lights couldn’t penetrate its shadow.

Ginny stared at her plate; it was filled to bursting with hearty food and she knew that she should be thankful. She should be thankful that she was alive—that her family and friends were alive—and that the Ministry of Magic was finally working with Dumbledore to hold back the Dark Lord’s wave. They had a chance now to eliminate the threat forever so that her children and her children’s children wouldn’t have to live in the fear that now gripped her everyday.

But that thought didn’t keep her from wanting to cry each day when she woke up from peaceful dreams and remembered.

Tiny Professor Flitwick was charming the many Christmas trees a few yards down. No one was watching with the awe that Ginny had when she had first seen the Great Hall at Christmas. Their minds were elsewhere.

Death was everywhere. It seemed like every morning owls brought news that someone’s cousin or aunt or brother had died in the fight. Sometimes Ginny bowed her head in reverence for the lost soul. And sometimes she cheered because it meant one less enemy. She wasn’t sure which made her sadder.

Even now as she looked over at the Slytherin table, she felt like weeping. Never before had she felt so much pathos for the Slytherins. They had been lied to. At least Ginny had known what the Dark Lord’s coming had meant—she knew only too well what he had in store for the world. But they had thought it would be joyous—the wizarding world would finally throw of the mantle of muggleborns and live up to its potential.

They hadn’t realized that many of them would die in the fight. Still more would be shunned and scorned by much of the rest of the world. And now inside of leaving Hogwarts and becoming gods among men they would join the Death Eaters and serve the Dark Lord. They would fight and die. If they were lucky they might end up in Azkaban, tortured night and day.

Ginny felt sorry for them. There had been times before when she had hated them with every bit of her soul. But now she couldn’t muster up enough emotion for that. She just pitied them and felt bad that she would no doubt have to kill one of them one day—or else one of them would kill her.

*

The climb to Gryffindor tower felt longer and harder each evening. By the time Ginny reached the Fat Lady’s portrait, she was so weary all she could do was drag herself up the last few stairs that led to the girls’ dormitories and collapse into bed.

Ginny looked toward the bright stars in the window. They shone brightly now that the nights had become so dark. It was comforting to see them fighting to keep the light alive against the blanket of darkness.

She closed her eyes and prayed. Ginny had never been much for prayer when she was younger. Molly Weasley had stopped bringing her children to church when the twins were born because it was just too difficult to keep them all quiet and too embarrassing when they disrupted the entire ceremony. So when Ginny had begun praying the night Cedric Diggory passed away she felt a bit like a hypocrite, asking God for things when she had never done anything for Him.

Still she prayed every night—to the Christian God or ancient gods or anyone who was willing to listen—that her brothers would be all right, that her parents would not be killed, and that the souls of those who were taken would finally be given peace. Sometimes she prayed that Tom Riddle would be given enlightenment, finally realize the pain he was causing, and just stop. Stop what he was doing and go away. But she had touched Tom Riddle’s soul once and she knew that there wasn’t any light there.

That was why she prayed for it. Only a god could work a miracle.

As she prayed she remembered the Christmases she had spent at Hogwarts years before. Even the one she had spent with Tom had been better than this. That year she had snowball fights with her brothers and Percy had bullied her into taking medicine she didn’t need. That had been when Percy was still speaking to the rest of her family.

And suddenly she felt like crying again. It seemed she had done too much crying recently. Every moment of the day felt like that moment just before the tears begin to fall. She wanted a happy Christmas again, not just for herself, but for the entire school.

She wanted Dumbledore to laugh and pretend to be Santa Claus. She wanted the chorus to sing carols while Professor Flitwick to danced on top of his chair. She wanted Professor McGonagall to wear the horrid wreath around her hat and shout at students for pulling crackers in the corridors. She wanted Fred and George to throw snowballs at Ron. And Ron to complain because his sweater was maroon.

Most of all she wanted her Mum to send her sweets and a cozy sweater, which Ginny already knew wasn’t coming since Mum had been so busy with the Order. And she wanted the castle decorations to inspire the kind of awe and wonderment in all the students as they had when she had first seen them with the fresh eyes of a little girl.

And that was when she realized there was something she could do to make this Christmas happy.

*

Sneaking around Hogwarts at night wasn’t as simple as Ron and Harry Potter would have led Ginny to believe. She felt that Mrs. Norris was constantly nipping at her heels. Now she understood why and Invisibility Cloak would come in handy for someone who was off fighting evil at all hours of the night. It would have come in rather handy for her. But she hadn’t wanted to tell anyone what she was going to do. It was her secret. Everyone else would be surprised.

Well, except for the fairies. They giggled as she passed and whispered to one another. At first she thought their incessant chatter would get her in trouble. Filch was bound to hear them. But instead it seemed that they were on her side. Once, Mrs. Norris had been nearby and they had flashed an SOS and distracted the cat by swirling around her. So as Ginny walked by them in the dark she grinned and gave them the thumbs up. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or not, but she thought that their lights shone brighter than they had before.

The Great Hall would be her biggest challenge. It was large but there wasn’t a place to hide should someone enter the room. And it would be hard to top the decorations that the house elves had provided for the Yule Ball years earlier. If Ginny wanted this to be memorable then it would have to stand out.

Ginny sat at the vacant Gryffindor table and meditated on her task for a while. She pondered the Enchanted Ceiling and its large columns, perfect for hanging things. Her brothers had once turned an entire corridor into a bog. She hoped their blood ran through her veins so that she could turn the Great Hall into a winter wonderland.

*

At four a.m., Ginny was still hanging garlands. She had already charmed the snow to fall harder and faster. Now an ankle-deep layer of warm, fluffy snow covered the floor and a snowman stood by each of the four long tables, wearing the house’s own scarf and mittens. The Christmas trees were decked with snow but since it was warm snow, the fairies were content to keep shining in their branches. Ginny was pleased she had made friends with them early on, for she could not have hung all the garlands and icicles without them.

Every now and again, Ginny poked her head out of the doors to check for Filch or Mrs. Norris. They never came. She was sure the fairies had something to do with that as well. Once a few house elves had popped their heads out from the kitchen. But they squealed and giggled and were content to leave Ginny to her work.

She was up on a ladder, hanging sprigs of mistletoe when she heard footsteps in the corridor. There wasn’t time for her to dive beneath a snow bank or even get down from her ladder. The Great Hall’s door swung wide open and for a split-second Ginny thought Filch was finally going to get to hang a Weasley by their thumbs. But it wasn’t Filch who emerged from the hallway, it was Draco Malfoy. Even worse.

Ginny knew that Prefects patrolled the corridors at night. She feared that Ron might catch her and tell Mum. Or Hermione would and scold her for breaking rules, as if Hermione never broke school rules. This was even worse. There was no one she wanted to see less than Draco Malfoy—no one who had less Christmas spirit to understand the nature of her task. She threw a miffed look at the fairies. Why hadn’t they alerted her in time?

Draco paused to take in the scene. There was snow in the Great Hall. Fairy light twinkled from every corner of the room. Icicles hung from every beam. And there was Ginny Weasley, in her pajamas, atop a ladder hanging sprigs of mistletoe.

“Is this the only way you can get someone to kiss you, Weasley?” he sneered.

Ginny pushed an irritating strand of flaming red hair out of her face angrily. She hadn’t expected him to understand. He was probably already thinking of all the points he’d take from Gryffindor.

“For your information,” she replied huffily as she climbed down from the ladder. “Mistletoe was associated with the Winter Solstice long before Christianity. But you don’t take Muggle Studies so I wouldn’t expect you to know that.”

His eyes narrowed. “Just what exactly do you think you’re doing? Besides being out of bed at night, roaming around the castle without permission, doing unapproved magic, and interrupting my rounds?”

The fairies shrieked and flashed their lights angrily at him, which made Ginny feel a bit better. What a Scrooge, she thought.

“It’s Christmas, Malfoy. Everyone is depressed and I’m trying to brighten their spirits. Take points from Gryffindor if you must but I’m not going to spend another breakfast watching everyone else mope.”

With that she climbed up the ladder and resumed hanging the mistletoe. For a moment she thought he was going to shout at her. Then she thought he’d turn on his heel and fetch Professor Snape. But he didn’t. He moved closer to where she was working and asked, “What’s mistletoe got to do with Christmas spirit if it’s not for kissing under then?”

Ginny looked over at the fairies, they had quieted down, she wondered what he was playing at but figured the longer he stayed there then the longer she had to work. “The Norse believed in the Goddess Frigga, who was the goddess of love and destiny. Back then the Winter Solstice was also the New Year, the time when new destinies could begin. One New Year she labored and gave birth to the Sun God, Baldur. She could see the future and she saw the painful death of her son.

“Even though she was a goddess she couldn’t change the fate of her child. She pleaded with all the gods and creatures not to harm her son. But the trickster, Loki, used a poisonous plant—Mistletoe—as an arrow and tricked Baldur’s brother, Hodor, the God of Darkness, into shooting the Sun God.

“Without the Sun God the world was dark constantly. Frigga cried and cried until her tears became frozen white berries on the mistletoe. Every god attempted to raise Baldur from the dead but in the end it was Frigga herself who had the power to raise him up and restore light to the world.

“From then on the meaning of the plant was changed to represent the love that conquered death and darkness.”

Draco was silent following her tale for which Ginny was grateful. It allowed her to finish her work in peace. As she finished, she looked around and her handy work and was pleased. She hoped it would give the student body at least one moment when they were not thinking about the war.

She hopped down from her perch and faced Draco squarely. “Christmas is about the coming of light,” she whispered. “Whether you believe that’s a god or longer days, it doesn’t matter. Change is coming.”

He stared at her, unmoving. She noticed for the first time that his eyes were gray—not the gray of a storm like she had thought—but like the gray that fills the sky just before the sun breaks over the horizon. She felt a tickle in her stomach and wished he would say something, take points from Gryffinfor, do something—anything.

Then he did do something and she was ever so glad that he did. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. They were cold due to the chill in the castle at night but as they touched hers, she felt warmth that started there and radiated outward until it filled her completely. While she had been so concerned with making everyone else forget, it had made her remember. And for just one moment, she ceased to think at all.

As they broke apart Ginny’s mind flashed back to earlier that evening. I might have to kill him one day, she thought. Or he me. She looked up into his gray eyes and whispered. “Your destiny can change.”

“I think it already has,” he answered.

She watched as he stared around with new eyes at the fallen snow and the twinkling lights of the happy fairies and she knew that Christmas would be a joyous occasion again this year.