6/6

It would surely be awkward when his father bought him the new Nimbus 2003 that had just been released, which was over two times as...

He had a Firebolt.

He had a Firebolt.

Gaara had given Draco a Firebolt.

Gaara had given him a Firebolt!?

Draco stared uncomprehendingly at both his hopelessly stoic best friend and his brand-new, not-even-released-to-the-public broom; he didn't know whether to kiss his friend or his beautiful new broom, but after assessing which was least likely to kill him afterwards, he kissed his broom.

"How- How on Earth did you get this broom? This broom isn't even on the shelves yet!"

If Gaara had known the fuss this would cause, he would have gone with his first instinct and burnt the thing.

"Is that a Firebolt?" For the first time that morning, Lucius seemed genuinely interested in proceedings.

"Really, Gaara, where on Earth did you find this broom? He could you afford it?" Draco was asking entirely in disbelief as no one present believed for a second that he wanted to give his new broom up. Gaara could have told them that he snatched it out of the hands of the Minister for Magic and Draco would be asking for his father's lawyer.

'Horses do not like you looking in their mouths.' Gaara sand sagely wrote out.

"What?" Draco said, trying to decipher the meaning behind that sentence.

"Draco, I think he means 'you shouldn't look a gift-horse in the mouth.'" Narcissa supplied, smiling despite herself. It really was a very generous and thoughtful gifts for Gaara to give, even she also wanted to know where it had come from.

Gaara blinked at hearing the proper saying, but he still didn't understand what it actually referred to.

Narcissa went on to say, once Draco had momentarily stopped rubbing his cheek against his new broom, that if the boys were good they could go out and play with the broom for a little while after lunch. Of course they would both be bundled up with as many heavy fleece items clothing that the Malfoys possessed. Narcissa wasn't about to see her precious son (and Gaara) out in this biting cold without the proper protection.

Due to his less than voluble nature, it escaped Draco's and Narcissa's notice that Gaara was frowning even more prominently than he usually did. Lucius did, however, happen to notice, but his quirked brow was as far as he was willing to acknowledge it. After all, his entire schooling experience, from his first hour in Hogwarts, had taught him to take note of any weaknesses he observed and exploit them at the proper moment.

Granted, his son's best friend's immense dislike (fear?) of flying or brooms wasn't the most useful piece of information, but you didn't get to be where he was by ignoring anything you saw or heard.

And so the morning and day went in the Malfoy home house manor: Draco indulging every neglected childish, whimsical bone in his otherwise stoic, noble nature; and Gaara being dragged kicking and screaming along for the ride, trying to convince himself that he hated every moment. All the while the Malfoy parents enjoyed, in their own way, both the day and their son's seldom allowed exuberance.

In the evening, the boys were called to dinner and found what Gaara could only describe as a feast fit for a gluttonous king. There was enough food to feed an entire clan of hungry ninja, and instead it sat in front of three skinny wizards and one ninja who had never found any real or particular satisfaction from eating.

They ate largely in silence, as they had in the majority of their meals since Gaara arrived, but eventually the red-head sighed and scrunched up his eyebrows and commanded his sand.

'I have to leave tomorrow morning.'

He had been putting off telling Draco this since he had arrived, and had considered just disappearing once or twice. He had come to the conclusion that Draco would either take that incredibly personally, or else he would pay lots of people to go looking for him.

Narcissa was the first to notice the silent message hovering in the air when she saw Gaara had stopped eating, and it caused her to put down her fork. Lucius noticed his wife had paused at the other end of the table, ever vigilant of when she wanted to say something. Narcissa was not known to speak without reason or meaning unless they were at a social function.

Finally Draco noticed that everyone had stilled and regular clinks of the silverware had stopped. Looking up, he performed a double take when he skimmed Gaara's message, and had to read it a third time for the message to sink in.

It was devastating to see that his friend wanted to leave before the end of the holiday break. Having Gaara here with him had been better than he could have imagined, even if the acerbic boy had spent most of his time reading or exercising. Growing up, the only times he could have company his own age were when his parents organised 'play dates' with other suitably prestigious family's children.

These meeting had always been political negotiations so his actions and movements had to be controlled or restricted so as to not look bad in front of important contacts. It wasn't like he couldn't have any fun, but it had always been a burden on his mind that his playing or socialising could adversely affect his family.

Which his parents had always stressed was paramount.

But having Gaara around was what Draco imagined having a brother was like. No pretences or niceties, simply friendship and occasional conflict (like over morning training or Quidditch practice.) And he had thought that Gaara had enjoyed it as well, in his own scowling way.

"Might I ask why the change of plans, Gaara?" Narcissa broke the silence, affecting his practiced smile and putting his cutlery down on his plate in the proper positions.

"Yes, I'm curious to know what has changed and why the last minute notice." Lucius piped up, not appreciating the lack of courtesy from the urchin he had seen fit to allow into his home. This was why he continued to rally in favour of etiquette lessons at Hogwarts, not matter how outdated or 'elitist' Albus insisted they would be. Socialist nuisance.

'Dumbledore has called me back for testing in a few days.' He wouldn't have minded a little more of the roasted goose he had been slowly eating, but it seemed like the meal was over. 'He said he wanted to check my progress as a transfer.'

"What? Now?" Draco blurted out.

'I will be making my own way back to the school, seeing more of this country.'

"Do you mean to say that you will be walking all the way to Scotland from here?" Lucius arched his eyebrow.

'I will fly as far as I can. It will take a couple of days.'

"You'll fly?" Narcissa shared the surprise of everyone else at the table.

"But you hate flying, and you don't even have a broom." Draco said, hoping he might be able to convince Gaara to stick around for another day or two before taking a Portkey just for the test. His father would certainly pay for it if he asked hard enough.

'I will use my sand. I have travelled further before, it shouldn't be a problem.'

"Oh, right. Your sand." Draco worked to keep his face blank.

"Well, I suppose if there is nothing we can do to persuade you to stay a little longer and take a faster route there, that's that then." It seemed as if Narcissa was saying it more for her son's benefit than for Gaara's.

"Trust that old coot to call you up to him with hardly any notice. Still, it is the headmaster's prerogative and I suppose you are something of a special circumstance." And also something of a mystery, irritatingly. "Nonetheless, I will certainly be bringing up his latest contemptible display of belligerence at the next school board meeting." Rather than inconvenienced, Lucius looked like he had been given an especially pleasant Christmas present.

'I am sorry for the lack of notice. I will be departing in the morning.'

"I will have the cooks prepare you a little something for your travels, if you would like." Narcissa said, picking up her knife and fork and resuming her meal.

'Thank you. That would be much appreciated.'

As the adults (somehow including the diminutive Gaara) come to an understanding, Draco brooded quietly and tried not to show his displeasure. He didn't want to look like a spoilt child whose friend had abandoned.

No matter how close that strayed towards the truth.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather take a Portkey, or maybe get someone to Apparate you there?"

'Entirely.' Gaara remembered his last apparition and it was not a fond memory.

"And I'll see you when I come back after the holidays?"

'I would imagine so, as we share a room.' Gaara's wide-eyed innocence made Draco suspect he was not being sarcastic. Typical.

"Be careful on your journey, and stay clear of muggles, Gaara. It's been a pleasure having you." Narcissa stood close to Lucius, bracing herself against the cold.

"Yes, a pleasure. Please do come back." Lucius said shortly.

Gaara nodded, calling the sand the sand out his trusty gourd and mounting it. He was entirely grateful to Draco for his heated cloak. It was going to be a long journey, several hundred miles, and this country really gave new meaning to the 'dead of winter'.

'Thank you again for your hospitality. I'll see you at school Draco.'

And with those parting words, Gaara flew into the sky and northwards. He was going to miss Draco's company.

Strange.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

As it transpired, Christmas didn't only come to the Malfoys, but almost everyone else that day.

In Little Hagleton, the expansive Weasley family had enjoyed a rare treat in recent years, with their entire family gathering under one roof to celebrate Christmas. It was a welcome coincidence that they had won the lottery allowing them to pay for their children to travel back from Hogwarts the year that there was a terrible murderer on the loose and targeting the school. And the money had even paid for Bill and Charlie to visit as well.

As one would expect, it was a truly raucous affair with the brothers all telling the best stories they could think of without their mother hearing. Arthur even joined in for a bit before Molly stormed up and broke them up. Meanwhile Ginny was penning yet another letter to Harry. She was still miffed that she couldn't send any of her thoughtful missives without her mother's approval.

Something about scaring him off or something.

The Granger family Christmas was a smaller event and definitely a quieter one, with just the three of them enacting the perfect middle class festive experience. They woke up, had smoked salmon and opened presents, relaxed for a while before Mrs Granger cooked up supper, and after eating they all went on a walk.

After hearing about the murderer on the loose, thanks to the headmaster's surprisingly open policy with regards to notifying muggle parents about goings-on in the Wizarding world, and after Hermione had been 'petrified' last year, they had decided to bring her home and enjoy one of their long neglected intimate family Christmases. Ignorant of this, Hermione was very contented in her home. She had missed sharing the holidays with her parents too.

Harry was on his own again, for the first Christmas since he had found his true home here at Hogwarts. He wasn't the only Gryffindor to stay, he wasn't even the only boy in his dorm room to stay for the holidays, but without Ron and Hermione, he still felt a little abandoned, despite what he had said to repeatedly reassure Ron and Herm. There was no reason his tragic lack of a home to go back to should affect his friend's celebrations.

Still, it had touched him that the two had tried to refuse their parents' invitations for his sake, but at Harry's insistence and their parents' demands, the two had gone home and left him. Neville was in the same boat, and so they spent the better part of the day together, consoling each other for their shared deficits. Harry didn't know the particulars of Neville's situation, he had always found such subjects in poor taste (everyone just seemed to know his naturally), but he did know that Neville lived with his grandmother and that she wasn't the warmest person in the world.

They opened the myriad gifts owled to them, including a pair of socks each from Dumbledore, and ate more sweets than they perhaps should have considering Madame Pomfrey wasn't handing out Stomach Soothing potions today.

The letters they received, Harry sadly more than Neville, were nice but Harry was ready to write the day off as a failed Christmas and set his sights and hopes on next year when he might really be able to feel the Christmas spirit.

And then he received a late present from an unknown sender, and he'd know the shape anywhere. He tore the wrapping from his broom at the lunch table, ignoring the startled looks of those around him, which peaked when they saw exactly what type of broom he had been gifted. A Firebolt, not even out on the market.

Oliver Wood had been quietly chatting with his friend when he had seen Harry receive a broom. It was a perfect result because otherwise he would have had to use a school broom, infamous for their slow manoeuvres and poor speed. And then he saw the Firebolt and he jumped clear out of his seat. Finally, he would have the magical advantage over Slytherin again, like they had had in Harry's first year when he had the Nimbus 2000 but before that slime Malfoy bribed the Slytherin team with 2001's.

Perhaps not the typical Christmas tidings, but McGonagall was certainly glad to see some cheer in her House (because she was in no way showing any sort of preference for her House's Quidditch team.)

Albus was, as he usually was on this most holy of days, secluded in his office away from the students and staff at his wonderful school. The joy and good tidings of Christmas were for the young who had not seen everyone they loved pass on into the next great adventure. He had no family left to speak of (since Aberforth was not someone he liked to speak of or to) so every year at this time he hid away from those who respected or admired him, and considered those whom he had lost.

He took a break from the letter on his desk and peered out of his window at the snowy grounds below. He could just make out Remus wandering aimlessly through the fields towards the Forbidden Forest. It wasn't right that he had lost almost as much as an old man like him. At least Albus had the reassurance that his own friend turned enemy, Gellert, was still safely locked up in Nurmengard.

Then again, for people like Remus and him, those were simply the hardest losses to bear: those who were no longer friends.

He knew Remus found a great solace in the woods surrounding the school. Whether that was due to his wolfish leanings, or because of the memories he held of his friends and him in the forest when they were students, Albus didn't know. But for people like them, Christmas was a time to remember those they would rather have spent the day with.

He sat back down with a groan and finished his letter, already over five pages long and detailing all that had happened in the past year since his last letter and his kindest wishes to the recipient. He signed it off: ' With all of the love and care in the world, your enduring friend, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, etc.'

After he had finished with a flourish, he sealed the envelope with his personal insignia and wrote on the front: 'To Gellert'.

With that done, Albus opened his lowest desk drawer and swept the thick letter into it, watching it fall atop the large pile of identical letters already gathering dust in the expansive drawer. Nurmengard didn't allow communication with their prisoner, under any circumstances or from anybody.

He missed his friend.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"You scoundrel!" Sirius bellowed as he swung his fist into the side of Remus' face.

"You idiot, I told you already," Remus barked back, wiping blood from his chin and managing a rather satisfying elbow to the side of Sirius's head. "Boxing day isn't until tomorrow."

"Who can wait until then?!" Sirius kneed Remus in the stomach and tried to punch him in the back of the head but Remus grabbed his leg and unbalanced him, putting them both on the floor.

They grappled for a while longer in the woods, their fight also keeping the frigid cold away for the moment, until finally they collapsed exhausted.

"That's how you know I've been affected by Azkaban, once upon a time even the rat could have taken you this close to a full moon without breaking a sweat." Sirius panted, debating with himself whether he should transform before the cold hit him.

"Like it or not, Sirius, we're both old men now. We can't be rushing around like we used to."

"Speak for yourself. 'Old man', indeed. I'm only thirty-one."

"You're thirty-four, Sirius."

"You can't be serious."

"I'm not falling for that one. Now come on, it's only going to get colder and us old men need shelter."

"I'm not old!" Sirius chased after his friend, determined that tomorrow's (surprise) rematch was going to put Moony back in his place.

He wished he could have been there to see Harry's and Lily's faces when they received their brooms. No matter what Lupin said about Lily hating brooms and magical transport, Sirius knew that as soon as he saw he had a Firebolt he would fall in love with it. After all, even a some simpleton who didn't like Quiddictch couldn't help but enjoy flying when they had such a piece of artwork with which to do it.

Moony had just laughed.

At least he knew that despite Gaara being in Slytherin, a lamentable twist of fate, only Gryffindor would get the boost for their Quidditch team. Even after Gaara started to enjoy flying, it would take him a while to get scouted for the team, so Gryffindor would undoubtedly have the edge for the rest of the year.

They both returned to the Shrieking Shack and ate heartily and spoke of happier times in the past. It was the best Christmas either had experienced in the last twelve years.

And later Remus would return to the castle and talk to Harry about his parents some more.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Gaara had lied about Dumbledore calling him back, but all the same he had needed to travel back to Hogwarts before the holidays were up, and springing it on Draco was the best way to stop his friend from insisting on coming too.

The full moon was on the twenty-ninth of December, only three days after Christmas, and Gaara was acutely aware of his vulnerability around that time. Since there was no way in whatever hell he still believed in that he would let Draco know about his problem, he had to leave the manor early. And since he was still largely ignorant about this England and its bordering countries, Gaara didn't feel confident about being powerless and looking like something of a fluffy morsel in a strange place. So he had decided to return to the grounds of Hogwarts for his inevitable and detestable change.

The journey felt like twice the distance the maps indicated, perhaps because of the cold, or perhaps because every dozen miles he had to skirt around a city or a town or a busy road. He never would have made it in time if he had insisted on sleeping like his selfish body tried to insist upon.

By the time he saw the peaks of the Scottish highlands, he felt more tired than he could remember being in months. It didn't help that the nice packed lunch Mrs Malfoy had given him had fallen off of his sand platform somewhere over the river Avon, and so he hadn't eaten in the past two days. A normal human probably would have collapsed a hundred miles ago, under the combined strain of travelling so far and from hunger, but Gaara was by very few definitions a (normal) human.

It was midday of the twenty-eighth and Gaara decided he would 'arrive' tomorrow morning, once he had collected his clothes and sand from whichever tree he picked. Sneaking back into the castle or arriving now would only draw suspicion, and the last thing he needed was people focussing on him tonight.

Fortunately, he had the foresight to bring a book and to leave the rest of his possessions with Draco. There was no need for his travels to be weighed down when he could have Draco bring everything to him.

He could have spent the day with Sirius, but again he hit the problem of having to disappear again in the evening. He would see Sirius and Remus tomorrow, after he had check in at the school.

When the evening came, far too early in the day for Gaara's taste, he stopped off in the deepest parts of the woods and set down his gourd and most of what he had on him, just leaving his clothes on for the moment. It would be easier to take them off too and fold them ready for the morning, rather than transforming in them and then having to awkwardly crawl out of them and dump them somewhere. But it was literally freezing cold and he could deal with wrinkled clothes in the morning. Better that than having to stand naked in the woods while fighting off the frostbite and indignity with his bare hands.

And then he felt it, the change that had pained him so much on the first night and now was more of a looming inconvenience. In minutes he had turned into his little-tanuki form and was running about the woods, trying to expend some of the limitless energy this body maintained.

All things concerned, Gaara believed it was the least eventful night he had forcibly been transformed into a four-legged mini demon tanuki that he could remember. His life was not placed in mortal danger, in fact he hardly encounter any creatures at all that night, except one slow moving Acromantula, which had sadly met its end by being squashed by a super plush but surprisingly weighty tail.

When the morning came and Gaara had found his clothes without any undue stress or drama, he almost pinched himself.

He dressed himself and set off, trying to work some heat into his freezing body, his clothes having collected a layer of frost in the night and his warming cloak not defrosting the small desert dweller quickly enough. He would go and see Sirius, but not before a hot bath and maybe a good meal.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

January second came to Hogwarts along with the Hogwarts Express, and as they did every time the train pulled into the station, Minerva and Albus watched from atop the Astronomy Tower as the students swarmed back onto the station platform. He had always enjoyed watching both the start of the year arrivals, with the skittish First Years and the exuberant returning upper years, and the post-Christmas students coming back to the castle with all of their holiday cheer and familial sentiment refilled.

Minerva observed that for the first time in the twenty years since she had first been invited to join in his little ritual, Albus Dumbledore was not smiling as he watched his beloved children coming home, and she knew precisely why. In fact, she was in mood to smile herself with the grim spectacle taking place in the opposite direction to the station.

Out, above the Forbidden Forrest and the lake, flew a swarm of an entirely antithetical nature to the other. Bound within a bubble of Patroni maintained by a dozen Azkaban agents, were more Dementors than the aged professors could count and certainly more than either had ever seen in one place.

"It's now Minerva," Albus said solemnly, not taking his eyes off of the dark flock being corralled until the students were safely inside the wards. "Today is the day the world changes again."

"Albus?"

"Everything is changing again, Minerva, just like it did on that night. October thirty-first, nineteen-eighty-one. But this time, no one but us will mark this date on the calendar as anything but the day that the children returned to Hogwarts, as they did every year."

Albus turned to her, and the twinkle was long gone from his eye. In those blue depths, she didn't see the familiar grandfather figure who had devoted the better part of his life to teaching children, instead she saw the battle-hardened eyes of a warrior wizard who had fought in both of the Great Wars and countless wizarding ones in between.

"The Ministry of Magic, our Ministry, is declaring war on us. I never thought I would live to see it happen." Albus murmured. 'But they're not really. They are declaring war on fear and the dark under their beds. They are declaring their war on Gaara and the change he might bring about.'

The Dementors were beginning to buzz and fly about agitated within their confines, and it soon became clear why: the ball of light burst and they exploded out like a blanket of smoke.

"I always used to like the view from up here." Albus commented as he turned back to the stairs. "It's a shame."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

A/N: I have to admit, the part about Draco 'needing' a broom was a hark back to an anecdote my mother once told me about my cousin declaring that she had 'needed' a car for school (and not for commuting). I like that I can draw, albeit limited, segments of my real life into my writing.

Since it is the time of year for gifts and good will, I want to take this opportunity to humbly (shamelessly) request more fanart for this fanfic. I still absolutely love the cover picture that Darkling211 made for the story, but now I hunger for more, greedy writer that I am. If I could get a picture, or even a picture of tanuki-Gaara, I would be forever grateful. I might even find it in myself to publish another chapter before Easter.

It occurs to me that since my last update, Naruto has finished its run. A while ago now, but a momentous occasion. It came as something of a relief, with the way it had gone in the past couple of years, but then I'm also very sad that it's gone.

I think many were disappointed with the epilogue but that was because of such a rich fandom that has spent the past decade and a half formulating their own futures for their favourite characters, and Kishimoto-sensei couldn't possibly live up to that sort of hype, no one could.

I've always found Naruto to be an exceptionally versatile source material that makes it ideal for fanfiction, similar to Harry Potter. That isn't necessarily to say that they are the best series, only that they invite speculation that fosters fan work more than other series. There's still so much to be done with these universes, and yet now they are finished. It is a strange feeling, but ultimately sad.

Since I so rarely get a chance to talk to my readership, since I so rarely publish anything for my readership, I might as well talk a little longer. In the reviews, I read an allegation of my version of Gaara being a Mary-Sue (a term I don't need to explain). I cannot find it in myself to deny it, entirely. In the beginning of the story, all those years ago, I was still trying to develop the balance between the Harry Potter and Naruto universes and I tended to overplay Gaara's character. Still, sometimes, all one wants to read is a powerful character in a weak world and how they interact with that world. Nonetheless, I have tried to tone down his characteristics a little since the first couple of chapters.

I also have to mention the terribly kind, if a tad overzealous, rebuking of that review by what I suspect was one anonymous/guest reviewer. It's interesting that people/a person pays attention to reviews of my story. So, in short, thank you to those of you who make me re-examine my writing by criticising, and to those who boost my self esteem by defending me from criticisms and remarking upon my work's virtues.

Thank you, really.