𝘋𝘈𝘕𝘊𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘞𝘐𝘛𝘏 𝘖𝘜𝘙 𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚 𝘛𝘐𝘌𝘋/𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 (English version)

Chapter 63

Who doesn't love Christmas?
The Carrows, undoubtedly, Sarah would have said.

"Pointless, pathetic celebration," Amycus had sneered just days before the holidays, with his usual twisted smirk stretched across thin lips.
And, to be fair, in that atmosphere, he wasn't entirely wrong: there was absolutely nothing to celebrate.
Not with a war looming over them, with the death toll rising. Not with Hogwarts turned into a prison patrolled by Death Eaters and punishments growing more brutal by the day.

And yet, Sarah had decided to try and lift everyone's spirits.

Because if there was one thing they had learned, it was that hope had to be nurtured,even with dust-stained hands and wounds that never had the time to heal.

Besides... what if this was their last Christmas?

Sarah paused on the threshold of the Room of Requirement, letting her gaze sweep slowly over the refuge that, day by day, had changed more and more.

The room had transformed for those students: the fireplace cast golden reflections across the stone walls, making the space feel warmer, almost like home. Worn rugs softened their steps, and the battered armchairs and sagging sofas had been arranged in an almost deliberate mess, as though someone had tried to recreate the cozy chaos of an improvised common room.
Above the hearth, someone(probably Luna)had hung garlands of holly intertwined with faded crimson ribbons.

It wasn't much, but it was enough.

Sarah pulled her cloak tighter around herself and stepped inside.
Neville and Ginny were bent over an old table, whispering about how to arrange the food,if it could even be called that, without making it look quite so meager.

"We could put the candles in a circle, make it seem brighter," Ginny suggested, folding her arms.
"If only we could get them to light," Dean muttered, shaking his head as he tried to spark the tip of his half-broken wand.

Meanwhile, Luna was staring up at the ceiling, as if trying to decide where to hang one last decoration.

Sarah held back a smile.
The idea of throwing a Christmas party with so little food and even less hope should have felt absurd. But somehow, it didn't.

It felt necessary.

For all of them,and especially for her.

—

Preparing the evening in secret had been harder than expected. The risk of the Carrows finding out about their gathering was high, and even though Aberforth had done his best to supply them, the feast was a far cry from the opulence of the Great Hall.
Stale bread, a few chunks of cheese, a nearly empty bottle of butterbeer, and a small cake sliced into tiny portions.
But when everything was finally ready and the members of the D.A. gathered around the table, something shifted in the air.

The laughter began slowly, hesitantly, like a fire struggling to catch, but it spread quickly, warming the room like the flames in the hearth.
Someone made a toast with water, someone else cracked a ridiculous joke that earned a round of genuine laughter.

For a moment, it felt like the war was far away.
Sarah sank into a sofa beside Seamus, who was grumbling about the taste of the cheese, and let herself enjoy the scene for a heartbeat.
Then her eyes met Pansy's from across the room.

The Slytherin girl lowered her eyes, fingers absentmindedly playing with the rim of her now-empty glass. It had become a familiar scene, neither of them able to do more than glance at each other from across the room, quietly observing, silently assessing.
The task Sarah had unofficially assigned herself was to make her see things differently, to help her understand that they were doing the right thing. And slowly, painfully, Pansy was starting to understand.