December 20, [Redacted]

Harry looked down at Luna. Her large eyes stared back into his, as serious as she had ever been. He should have known, of course; Luna had never exactly confined her behavior in a 1:1 ratio to normal, or at least what the Wizarding world ascribed to normal. Still, what she had just stated remained a bit on the outer edge of what maintained a standard of behavior, even for her. In three different lifetimes he'd never heard any of the like, and dwelling in a darkened cell with the musings of a hyper-intelligent Dark Lord gave a great deal of odd.

"Pass that by me again?"

Luna dimpled at him. "I need a half-pound of Phoenix ash, baby oil, and a lot of cookies."

"No, I understood that part just fine," Harry pulled back into his chair. No, the sanity didn't appear to have hidden itself there either. "The first part please. One more time."

"I thought it was obvious," Luna's wide eyes gave him a disappointed look. "I am hunting High Elves, and this is the perfect time of year for it."

Ginny cocked her head to one side. "I thought you were hunting Crumple-Horned Snorkacks? Don't they live in Sweden or something?"

"It's Yule," Luna shrugged. "They're all busy underground making babies. Snow makes them frisky."

A loud cough from Harry turned the attention back to himself. "And you want a half-pound of Phoenix Ash, to do what exactly?"

"Exactly, I knew you'd understand!" Luna hopped in place, beaming before suddenly stopping and looking down with a pout. "Oh pooh. It's not as much fun without them."

"Pardon?" Harry was feeling more confused now.

"Oh, you know. With the aging potion my boo—"

Ginny's Switching spell caught Harry by surprise, as did the redhead's pained, blushing expression. "Never mind, Harry. Can we have the ash? If it doesn't work you'll get it back no trouble."

For a moment Harry looked between Ginny's reddened face and Luna, who was looking down again and bouncing with a dissatisfied expression. The desire to retain what little remaining sanity made a desperate bid for attention, copying Luna's tactics and jumping up and down in the forefront of his mind. "All right," he looked Ginny in the eye. "But remember to be very careful. I doubt we can pull off the same trick twice in a row. This stuff is worth four times its weight in gold."

"Okay," Ginny barely gave him enough time to finish before darting away, dragging Luna by one arm.

December 24 [Redacted]

Harry sat at the window seat of Lord Slytherin's private room. After much hard negotiation, he had won the right to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas Eve – which was now leveraged into a stay on his own island. Blackmail may have possibly been involved, but in the form of guilt-tripping, rather than the hoarded material kept in a securely hidden chamber, warded behind his own memory charms and triple blood-locked through Alex, Luna and Hermione. Ginny shared Weasley blood, which gave far too many opportunities for a prank-minded and surprisingly observant set of twins.

Instead, Harry watched as Luna set miniature jars of the invaluable ash in a complex design before the fireplace. Her blond hair coiled and fell with its own rhythm, reacting to a sprig of mistletoe pinned behind one ear. Helping her was Ginny, who looked both amused and put-upon as she carried a tray of cookies behind the smaller Ravenclaw. At intervals, Luna would reach back, seize one of the sugary treats and vigorously waft it above a vial of ash before returning it to the small plate once more. It fascinated Harry, how she never touched the same treat twice, unerring fingers selecting an untouched specimen without pause.

The pair made their way across the floor, weaving over the sugar-dust outline created for some express purpose of which no one had chosen to enlighten Harry. Not that he minded. Hermione had been glad to escape to her parents welcoming circle, and Claire had been more than willing to assist in practical work.

Harry checked his timepiece once more. It, like every other time he'd checked, read a few fractions of an hour closer to the end of the evening. Midnight was less than ten minutes away, dangerously close to the curfew his birth parents had set.

He frowned, disguising the motion with a casual stretch. A new book would help pass the time, and there just happened to be a shelf filled with the coveted things in reach. "Luna, you do know I need to return to Hogwarts by midnight, right?"

The Ravenclaw smiled without looking up. "Yes Harry. Don't worry, you're there."

Harry blinked, chewing over the statement. Variables clicked through his mind, cycling through more and more improbable scenarios. "Do you … have a time turner?"

"No silly," she giggled. "We didn't have one before, did we? We'd have one now if we did then. Or will now, if we could. "

Harry just settled back in his chair. Some topics were just too confusing.

Luna grabbed another cookie, wafting it over the last glass container. "Thank you for giving your elven help the day off. That's going to be very important."

"You're welcome Luna," Harry flipped to a new page. "I think —"

Luna's hand covered his mouth. Her silver eyes glared daggers into his soul. "Do not say any name until after midnight. Especially one belonging to a clever little guardian of cookies and Christmas cheer. A pity we couldn't get any wassail, isn't it?"

Harry checked his memory. There had been no time between Luna's hand over his mouth and her presence at Ginny's side, had there? Nonetheless, he trusted her. Cautious, he gave a slow nod.

"Thanks Harry!" her smile was back. Meanwhile, Ginny, still holding the tray, seemed puzzled, looking at the ground before her and Harry, her own brown gaze transmitting a sense of confusion.

"Ooh! Almost there!" Luna skipped over the sugar line, slipping the tray free from Ginny's unresisting hands. She landed it upon the small table placed a finger width off center from the sparkling trail's design. "Now Harry, if you could spread that baby oil on the inside of the chimney please? And light a low fire, that would be perfect."

Amused, Harry complied. A little charm took the liquid, spraying it up the brickwork interior. The manor was so new that almost no soot coated the sides, not that cleaning enchantments would let much build up. Old mansions, ones with constant, powerful ritual fires could create a filthy grime, but his home hadn't been around long enough. So far.

"Perfect. Thank you Harry. Now, do you have your cloak?" Luna's foot tapped with impatience. "Hurry!"

Harry unfurled his cloak with a resigned sigh. At least, until Ginny knocked him into the window seat, propelled by an excited Luna. Ginny fell into his lap, eyes crossed while Luna collapsed on top of her. Luna's hand reached up, snagging the cloak edges and drawing them tight over the three. "Shhh. Not until he arrives."

"Who –?" Ginny's voice made a squeaking sound, the kind of noise he imagined he would have made himself, if Lunas hand grabbed him there.

Dead silence filled the room, broken only by the slow pop of the fire and an infrequent creak from the settling manor. The glass window felt cold to his back, even through the insulating charms laid down by experts. Winters in the northern ocean climes were not something to mock, even with magic. The ancient Viking vessels had been crewed by masters of their craft, wizards capable of magics no one in the modern era understood after centuries of effort – and even they respected the fierce north winds.

Harry imagined he could hear those winds now, sweeping overhead. Then he listened closer; that wasn't wind. That was something rushing above. On the roof?

Luna tensed, a fraction of a second before the massive grandfather clock began to strike midnight. As the first resonant chime sounded, something came down the chimney in a roaring whoosh. A fireball roared into existence, red and white and small silver bells jingling merrily. It ricocheted to towards the cookie table, then went berserk. A faint trail appeared, blooming a metallic orange and crimson hell flowers at each turn.

Instantly, Luna burst free of the fabric, leaping over the scorched lines of powdered sugar to tackle the widdershin-spinning ball of flame. It seemed to note her presence, making a last-moment desperate sashay, but too late.

The fireball faded and Luna, plus a bundle of red cloth, padding and a deep male voice sprawled across the floor.

"Gotcha! I gotcha again!" Luna crouched on top of the rotund figure, grinning like a mad woman.

Harry flung the cloak off himself, letting it drop onto an insensate Ginny. How should Lord Slytherin react? No, he wasn't Lord Slytherin at the moment, he was Harry Potter in the wrong house at the wrong time. "Luna! Wait … what?"

A joyful face beamed at him, bouncing atop the groaning red-coated man. "Oh, don't worry Harry. It's a game we've played for years. If I catch him, I get three wishes!"

"That wasn't – hah – part of the original deal – hoh – young lady!" an irritated basso grumbled from the floor.

Luna smiled down. "Harry, meet Santa. Santa, Harry. He's my betrothed!"

The fat man managed to sit up, spilling Luna to the floor in a happy jumble of arms, legs and blonde hair. "I know girl. They just can't stop nattering about Fate this and Death that. Bunch of meddlers, really. As if things weren't confusing enough to track." A gusty sigh rustled whiskers as white as snow and just as thick. "Still, the rules are the rules missy."

Harry glanced back; Ginny would be sore about missing this. "Santa? You … know me?"

Bright eyes, twinkling with far more authenticity than Dumbledore ever could matched his look. "Lad, I've known who you were for a long time. Feels like a few lifetimes, you know."

"Then," a white-hot rage began to percolate in Harry's mind. "You knew. You knew and did nothing?"

The large man rose to his feet, but seemed somewhat saddened, contrary to the laughter lines etched in his face. "Rules are rules, young lad, didn't you hear me say that? The more power you have, the stronger the bindings. Can you divorce yourself from eating? Hm? No. Yet you have more power than a plant or rock will. Yes, you could skip a meal now and then, or starve yourself for a lifetime. But to forego eating entirely would deprive you of all power you'd ever had in the past or future."

Luna bounced to her feet, smiling. "Santa and I have a game. I caught him when I was three, and we made a bargain."

"Yes young lady," the small man nodded. "I remember it most clearly, and that bargain stipulated one wish, not three."

Firelight glinted off Luna's teeth. "Of course, if you want our original bargain to stay. I won't say anything, but do you want Harry to not say anything either?"

Pale eyebrows rose. Santa studied the beaming Luna, then back at Harry. "I don't suppose …."

"Nope," Luna shook her head. "Don't say anything Harry. These are Fairy Rules. Anything you say can be considered a rule. And how could you, Santa? If you want to change the bargain, you have to add to it yourself."

"Fine," Santa rolled his head. "Three wishes, but under the same restrictions as before: No death, no getting someone to fall in love, and no wishing for more wishes."

"Good!" A paper materialized in Luna's hand. "Will this do?"

The old man studied the paper. It responded to his touch, curling into an ornate bit of parchment. "Hmm, interesting. Very interesting. Are you sure you don't want a doll or never-ending bowl of pudding instead?"

The girl froze, eyes locked on the older man's gaze. For a full minute she did not move or breathe. Then a frustrated look came over her face. "Harry, you owe me. You owe me a lot."

Santa sighed. "Hoe then. Plato?"

The house elf popped into the room. "Scorekeeper calls humble Pla—" his large eyes grew larger at the scene in front of him. "How did – Master? Miss Blinky?"

"Plato, meet the Clever Girl. Clever Girl, Plato." Santa mumbled. "Plato, I would count it as a great favor if you could not mention this to anyone? And I'll need to arrange a few things over the next decade or so. Double the points for a month of your choice, agreed?"

The small being's head nearly broke the sound barrier, so quickly it nodded. "Yes master Scorekeeper sir. Plato be's good and minds the naughty people."

"Good. I knew I could count on you!" Santa gave a regretful look at the cookies, now strewn across the floor. "Clever Luna. Temporal-locked Phoenix Ash? I'll have to add it to my list. Of course you know the Time-Turner can only go back a certain amount …?"

"Of course." Luna bobbed a curtsy. "Thank you Santa. See you again next year? I have cookies waiting on the roof in a stasis charm."

A faint look entered the jolly old elf's eye. "So you did girl, so you did. Well, we'll see." A wink changed the man's entire visage into the merrier form Harry had half-expected. "If you can catch me."

Cold wind swirled for a moment, smelling of nutmeg and ginger, and the fat man in a red suit vanished. But there was a new pile of presents beneath the Christmas Tree that Harry hadn't seen before, wrapped in a way that made mere magical wrapping paper seem downright boring in comparison.

December 29 [Redacted]

"There's just one thing I don't understand," Harry commented. Both he, Luna and the group of companions they normally travelled with sat in comfortable solitude, at Slytherin Manor.

"Just the one?" Luna's eyes were wide in admiration. "You must be really smart. I don't understand lots of things."

Harry rethought the statement. "I mean, I don't understand why Plato kept calling … him … Scorekeeper. Do you know why?"

The blonde girl fingered a gold chain that slipped under the neck of her blouse. It shone in the sunlight. "No, but don't ask the elves too much. They get upset for some reason. How's Ginny? Is she feeling better?"

"Yes," Harry looked over at the other girl, whose face was determinedly buried in a book. "A bit embarrassed, I think. But all right. She got a lump on her head, but it went down with a little help."

"Good." Luna cuddled up next to Harry, ad relaxed. "Harry?"

"Yes Luna?"

"You owe me pudding. A lifetime of it."

Harry felt the beginnings of a headache stir once more. It always came back when Luna started talking. "Yes Luna. I know."

(Author's note: I know cookies and many other things are not truly English. But I'm not either, so I write with the spelling I know.)