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Flippy swivels a finger, making each strip of bacon wrap around a chipolata. After sage leaves have hovered obediently over the baking tray, she's already guided them to settle neatly, one on each small sausage. As this year's unusually small company at Christmas lunch – altogether only thirteen students and staff – managed to eat up one particularly savoury dish, she's now got the pleasure of preparing this new patch of pigs in blankets.
Or kilted soldiers? No. Due to the war association, Flippy shuns that latter, local name for the pork dish. Today there must be no dwelling on past wars or on omens for new disasters.
The air in the cavernous kitchen bristles with delicious smells, and chuckles, and sparkles from the festive fairy fires. Since the lunch is over and the washing-up has been done deftly, the other elves are now lounging about, some of them tuning their lutes, some coaxing the visiting fairies to sing.
A swipe of Flippy's hand sends the tray into the oven. She could have achieved that with a mere thought, but her mind is preoccupied with arranging a fine selection of left-overs in a basket... until she allows herself to focus on humming the melody, then singing softly, "God rest you merry, unicorns..."
No, why not change the traditional lyrics! Her voice rings out. "God rest you merry, Hippogriffs..."
She wishes all the best to Buckbeak in particular, and hopes that he, too, will enjoy the late picnic lunch.
Before shifting herself and the perfectly-packed basket out of the castle, Flippy summons her favourite tapestry – one of the small unusual verdures which depict only landscapes and no creatures bigger than birds – and she wraps it around her shoulders. She doesn't want to leave wearing just a tea towel, as on her way to Rubeus's hut, she's making a detour by Greenhouse One.
Here she is, standing in the sparkly snow, facing Pomona through the glass wall. She's chosen not to intrude by entering. Instead, she's announced her arrival outside with a clear pop.
Pomona looks up from the row of budding Amamagiryllises, which she comes to tend to every afternoon. The corners of her eyes crinkle as she flashes a toothy smile. Having levitated the watering can onto a shelf, she hurries out.
"Merry Christmas, Flippy!"
Only after closing the greenhouse door behind her, does she lift a hood over her unruly grey curls, which the frigid wind has immediately started to rumple further. She steps up to Flippy and rearranges the tapestry, tenderly covering the floppy ears, too, with it.
"Merry Christmas, Professor Sprout! Flippy is glad that Professor Sprout still wants a second lunch."
"I took care not to eat too much at the first one." Grinning, Pomona slips her hands into new mittens, which she must have been presented with by Poppy when waking up in their shared bed. "You know, I felt I needed to be in the Great Hall. There were so few of us who could, and the two first-years deserved to see their teachers pull crackers and wear the silly hats."
She places a hand on Flippy's shoulder, and uses her wand to widen the path for them to walk side by side across the grounds.
Flippy understands why almost all the students as well one third of the staff have left Hogwarts: to celebrate Christmas somewhere that isn't surrounded by Dementors and under threat from the escaped prisoner. Just a couple of professors could not possibly have left but have also not been in the state to attend the lunch hosted by Albus.
There's a cloud of smoke scattering over the rimy trees of the Forbidden Forest – smoke rising from the Gamekeeper's lonely chimney. Pomona has made sure Rubeus won't be out, traipsing in the woods, but awaiting a visit, perhaps with a kettle on.
"Let's sing now!" Nudging Pomona and making her, too, stop and not climb up the front steps, Flippy lets her buoyant mood raise the basket high enough for Rubeus to receive it without bending, and starts, "God rest you merry, Hippogriffs/ Let nothing you dismay!"
Fang's barking is followed by Buckbeak's piping cry. The door bursts open, and Rubeus towers over Flippy and Pomona, swaying a bit, also intentionally – to the rhythm of their singing. Before he grabs the basket and it covers Flippy's view of his face, she notes that his beard is wet, his face streaked with tears.
And his deep voice quivers as he joins in singing the refrain, "O tidings of magic and joy!"
After they've reached the end of the song, he draws in a shuddering breath.
"Ta..." is all he manages before blowing his nose. "Pomona told me she'd bring a surprise for us, but blimey... Flippy, you're the best. Buckbeak will cheer up in your company. Come on in now! But... Let's not mention the Committee for the Disposal... that whole thing at all when he can hear us. No need to remind him of... It's months before the hearing anyway."
While Rubeus still lingers in the doorway, Flippy slips in. She receives a slobbery welcome from Fang, whose tongue communicates a fervent wish for shared holiday fun after all the fruitless fretting over some pompous phrases on parchment.
"We'll all have something else to think about." Pomona pats Rubeus on the elbow. "And Flippy here suggests that we send Buckbeak on a small mission."
Having hurried to bow towards the source of the raciest odours, Flippy steps over to Buckbeak, who's huddled in a corner. She wants the presence of her uplifting magic to distract the Hippogriff from any anxiety Rubeus will express.
Indeed, here comes the objection. "No... No! He must stay put. Not give a new reason for anyone to think he's feral and..."
Buckbeak opens his wings and stretches his neck down towards Flippy. As she strokes the beak with her fingers, he manages to focus on her reassuring view. Her touch imparts what Pomona is putting into words for Rubeus, the details of the task even more accurately.
"This is safe. Just what the tamest Hippogriff would do. And a little more fun than staying inside or tied up on the yard. A couple of friends need to be picked up. He can fly up to a window in the castle – in the hospital wing."
Fang laughs out loud, in resounding barks, claiming that the three of them look ridiculous when walking backwards. They are in no hurry, and barely stumble at all despite keeping their eyes fixed at the castle while proceeding slowly along the edge of the forest, where the snow drifts are not too deep. The dog is just envious, having failed to walk like that himself, and ended up only turning around in circles, as if chasing his tail.
With a little help from Fang, Flippy has led the way towards the spot where a gate will open today. Rubeus and Pomona, too, are just reaching the old wych-elm with a horizontal branch when they finally see the speedy approach of the Hippogriff.
Buckbeak must be enjoying himself. He's descended rapidly right after leaving Poppy's window. Her screams of excitement have immediately reached Flippy's ears. Perhaps he's felt like teasing his riders, as a little reminder of how they are at his mercy.
But – like those elves who've adopted amusing names, humble manners, and a vernacular that hides their nuanced thoughts and the depth of their power – he rejoices in the effortless services he's chosen to offer to these creatures. To poor humans, who need to be taught, and to practise, so as to learn spellwork, and who often fail to comprehend the value of higher forms of intrinsic magic.
Two humans – one witch and one... yes, one that's a wizard besides something else than human, too – are a negligible load on Buckbeak's back. Having ascended again, he's soaring over the grounds.
"Whoa!" Rubeus bends his head, as it looks like Buckbeak's talons will lacerate his face.
The reckless flight ends next to the elm. Poppy's the first one to alight from the mount.
She leaps into Pomona's arms. "You sly, lovely lady! Made me promise to wait on my windowsill with my patient after finishing the therapy!"
Remus remains astride for a moment more, leaning on Buckbeak's neck and stroking the feathers, before sliding down. He keeps staring at the tree, and now takes a faltering step towards it and reaches to press a palm against the trunk. "How did you know...?"
How did the Hippogriff know to bring him here? That's what he wonders first.
His pale face, his burning amber eyes turn towards Flippy and Rubeus. And he wonders how the two of them or Pomona and Poppy have found out that he's cherished fond memories of this particular place.
Flippy hasn't got any such special bond with him that would allow her to know his heart. Yet, standing close to him, she can sense his affection for the elm, and how the pleasure of this surprise is mixed with a doubt about their intentions.
"Merry Christmas!" He smiles in any case, offering his other hand for the dog to sniff. "Fang... Pomona, Rubeus, and...?"
"Flippy in your service, Professor Lupin."
He bows his head in a more polite way than she's hardly ever seen a wizard do in front of an elf. "I thank you, Flippy, if you, too, are behind this plot to take me out despite..."
And Flippy has to complete the sentence in her mind: despite his unfortunate illness. The condition which has worried Poppy, who knows well that when he was young, and still in September, when he returned after all his years of drifting, or a month later, Remus never became bedridden days before the full moon.
Despite the burden of the grief and horror related to the reason why Albus wants him to teach at Hogwarts this year, Remus may have felt some bliss of having come home for Christmas. And he must have looked forward to enjoying some of the festivities regardless of his lycanthropy, because the moon would continue to wax until the 28th of December. His weakness now is most probably an intensified side effect of the Wolfsbane Potion, which he's been ordered to take so as to keep the wolf asleep through every full-moon night. Month by month, Severus's concoction seems to start disabling him earlier.
Poppy, with one arm around Pomona's waist, lifts a hand over Remus's shoulder blade, as if in a casual, friendly gesture. It is, no doubt, also a concerned healer's touch, meant to both assess and enhance his strength.
"I'm glad if you can forgive us for scheming," she says. "You remember I asked for permission to tell Pomona how... I hoped she could suggest some new herbs to complement the treatment I had come up with. And she consulted the elf who..."
Pomona doesn't need to interrupt her partner, as an exchange of glances has confirmed that it's her turn to continue. "This elf who's become a friend. And who's turned out highly resourceful. Last year Flippy's magic helped accelerate the Mandrakes' growth and heal those Petrified. I've worked with her for years now, ever since she started coming to the vegetable garden and the greenhouses for what's needed in Hogwarts kitchens."
"Kitchens, yes," Flippy cuts in, so as to explain in a humble way how she and Remus have met before. "Flippy worked in the kitchens and served Remus Lupin among others when he was a student, and he sometimes visited his servants there. But his mates came more often."
This makes Remus smile. "I remember now. My... They used to bring regards from Flippy along with the treats they sneaked to the hospital wing."
"Now Flippy has filled a picnic basket. And there is also a different treat for Remus Lupin. Professor Hagrid..."
Rubeus has been fully focused on scratching his Hippogriff friend under the beak, but when Flippy makes the hovering basket nudge him, he remembers what he's supposed to confess. "Sorry... Remus, I was part of the scheming, too. Didn't mean to spy on you, or reveal a secret. But when Flippy asked, I said: there is one tree he likes a lot, and I know he liked it a lot back when..."
Back when Remus was young, Rubeus often saw him come to this wych-elm, bringing a sketchbook, or a closest friend, or a sweetheart, the mate he must have loved and trusted too much, for too long. And now, as Professor Lupin, he's been back right here several times – since the very first day of the term.
"This is the place," Flippy says, choosing a slightly less lowly manner of speech than usual. "The place where Remus Lupin came for joy and hope, and where he comes again now when he thinks it's all in the past. This is the place where Remus Lupin has come with friends, and friendless. This is the place where he can take his new friends to the other side."
It is high time for them to cross the border. The sky has grown hazy, the light dimmed, and raw gusts of wind make everyone except Rubeus – even Buckbeak – shiver, as they've stayed standing still. Some Dementors must be drawing near, having sensed the warmth of emotion in the group gathered at the edge of the forest.
Everyone's eyes are on Flippy. Pomona, anticipating some magic she won't understand, places a mittened hand on Rubeus's elbow again, in order to complete a chain of touches, just in case it's needed.
And Remus, now leaning heavily against the trunk, speaks in a soft and playful voice. "Let us go then, you and I."
"Yes, let's go!" Flippy can't help grinning when she sees the expectant gazes. "Just for a late little Christmas lunch in a springtime of life that is right here."
After a solemn moment of silence, Rubeus clears his throat. "How...?"
"Flippy thinks that Professor Lupin needs to jump down from here, from his old favourite perch," she says, and she has herself already advanced up onto the branch. "The rest of us will follow."
"All right." With one stride Rubeus arrives next to the trunk beside Remus. "I can lift you up."
Yes, he can help Pomona, Poppy and Fang, too, and Buckbeak will simply fly over.
"Maybe assist me a bit!" Remus raises his hands to touch the branch, and the sleeves of his robes slide down and reveal those of a cardigan, almost similar to the one Pomona's been gifted by Poppy.
Rubeus obviously knows in which way Remus has climbed the tree when in better health. With his help, Remus manages to push both feet against the trunk, and finally to swing a leg over the branch and to settle beside Flippy.
Now it's time to unfasten what she's worn as a cloak, and to spread it out to hover vertically in front of him.
"It is time... There is time woven in this tapestry." Flippy learnt two decades ago that the child who needed to hide a lot about what he was had taken to drawing and painting as solace, and he must have continued to develop his sense of images, and that's why... "Flippy is sure that Remus Lupin knows how to read pictures."
She takes his left hand and supports it, guiding him to touch the smooth surface formed by silken weft-threads. His skin is chapped, ruddy from cold, and wrinkled. As his trembling fingertips travel across the reproduction of a landscape, its faded colours, even the greens that have turned into blues, begin to glow in their original brilliance.
"I've tried," he says, "to find and paint beauty here. But I couldn't possibly see anything in bloom... until now when..."
Now when they all need it more than ever – in the mid-winter gloom. Now he's ready for the leap.
He's lying among wildflowers, staring up at yellow-green patterns delicate like lace against the bluest of skies: at branches covered with lime-coloured clusters of little wings that contain the elm's ripening seeds.
Flippy's immediately right there beside him. She rejoices in the sunshine and the warm breeze that caresses the bare skin of her frail limbs.
Their friends' arrivals gradually divert Remus's attention from the tree, and he sits up. As Poppy pulls off Pomona's mittens, and Pomona, laughing, reaches to unwrap the woollen scarf from around Poppy's neck, Remus hurries to take off both his robes and the cardigan. By the time Flippy has charmed her abundant assortment of Christmas delicacies to arrange itself into an inviting spread on top of the tapestry, Remus is wearing only worn-out Muggle garments.
When removing his shoes and socks, he's folded the legs of his trousers up a bit, exposing his ankles. And a t-shirt leaves his arms bare, revealing some more scars like random concise entries in an autobiography.
In his past there are also too numerous lovely scenes for him to manage to share them all.
Now several trees in bloom emerge. As soon as Rubeus, while peeling off more layers of clothing after the moleskin overcoat, starts singing to Buckbeak, there's an accompaniment played on the lute. The joyful melodies seem to wash out the hues of yellow and green in the new blossoms, and to paint them white with tints of pink.
Buzzing of honeybees completes the music, and wayward petals are dancing in gentle wafts of sweetest fragrance. Remus has brought his friends to the apple orchard of his childhood memories, and of his cautiously-awakened hopes.
The grass is lush and high where they all sit down around the tapestry, enticed by the warm, salty, spicy, fruity, nutty scents of a Christmas meal. Flippy senses that Remus appreciates also the soft, simple smell of fresh bread.
She feels tempted to hurry and start by moving thick slices of turkey and some roast potatoes onto large plates for those who must be starving, having missed the lunch in the Great Hall. But she's brought also something that wasn't served there. Fairy fizz, flavoured with pear, cranberry and cinnamon, spouts from the stems of seven goblets, which are filled to the brim by the time when six of them have floated to her friends, the largest ones to Buckbeak, Fang and Rubeus.
"Merry springtime Christmas!" she says, raising her goblet. "Flippy recommends that her friends start with these drinks and some smoked-salmon pâté spread on brioche buns, or anything else they prefer."
Buckbeak tilts his head back and spreads his wings as a spirited response to the uplifting beverage. Relaxed in the blissful atmosphere, and with most pleasant manners, he and Fang wait for Rubeus to fill plates for them.
"Kilted soldiers! Fang, you were the first to smell the bacon, right? And honey-roast carrots! I'm sure you like these, too, my Beaky."
Pomona takes the opportunity to offer pieces of delicacies straight into Poppy's mouth. "You must taste the Brussels sprouts, too. Delicious when prepared like this, with chestnuts and sage. The brilliant elves in the kitchens have outdone themselves this year, haven't they?"
Remus, sitting cross-legged with a plate in front of him, keeps leaning his body forward a bit so as to pick a morsel of something into his mouth, then returning to the position with a straight back and relaxed shoulders. He and his appetite appear healthy. With a slight bow, he thanks Flippy for anything that arrives on his plate, and he hardly stops chewing while smiling to each of his friends.
"You all," he finally says with a contented sigh, "You've outdone yourselves. It's all perfect. The warmth... I think we can keep that when... There's something else I'd like to see and to show to you that was beautiful. Something that will go well with this luscious Christmas food."
He looks around, and Flippy knows he's about to make some changes in the scenery.
The melodious sound of the lute is now complemented by fluting, warbling birdsong. A couple of the blossoms in the apple tree closest to Remus have turned into a pair of robins. Flippy blinks, and the tree has transformed into a spruce. Its branches are decorated with a flock of red-breasted birds, whose song adopts a plaintive winter note.
It is spring in any case, and no fruits, no fields are ripe yet. The day, too, is still young. The moon has not set yet, although it's in the phase that's Remus's very favourite... No, not quite: it's a waning moon, yes, but a crescent. The frail one that is also called an old moon. However, the magic of May allows earthshine to disclose the rest of its pale face.
Its sharp sickle right above the spruce is attached to the treetop with a brilliant wizard's spell. And Remus goes on staring at it with a lopsided smile.
This, too, is part of his blessings, of what he wants to remember and to include in his renewed hopes. The moon, which can't help being cruel to him, as well as the friend and partner who insisted on putting a moon on top of their tree at the Christmases they shared.