MAGIANIMA // Hermione Granger

First Edition

Everyone within Grimmauld Place awoke to a white Christmas the next morning, finding stacks of presents at the foot of their beds and Sirius, up bright and early, singing Christmas carols louder than ever before. And though he wasn't a terrible singer, Atlas found herself developing a horrible headache, the girl sat upright in her bed, hair askew and vision blurry, eyes wearily roaming around the innards of her room and stopping on her very own pile, colourful against the earthy tones of her room. She pulled the headphones of her Walkman from her ears carefully, turning the musical contraption off and tucking it safely in her drawer before she even made to move. Now that there were no old romance songs singing in her ear, her father's carolling became all the clearer.

She sighed and reached for Molly's present first, pulling the handmade jumper on before anything else thinking at least this would be the year Molly got to see her in one of her creations. The thought made Atlas smile as she pulled Harry's two gifts into her lap, the first one she didn't even have to open as it had no wrapping, instead, the dog's chew toy was adorned with a thin ribbon, dolled up by a pretty bow. She merely tossed it across her room and went for the other one, peeling back each fold carefully until she got to the bundle beneath, it was an ornament, of a wolf, of course, something Atlas thought would become a running gag gift but it was still remarkably made. Had such a likeness of her Animagus she could have sworn it was specifically made for her. She set it on her nightstand with a smile.

The next package was from Ron, he'd bought her a large bar of Honeydukes chocolate, a gift that would probably go right alongside Poppy's as the woman had consistently bought her a massive box of chocolate frogs every Christmas. And when Atlas opened the woman's next, she was right and set the box atop Ron's present. Remus had gifted her a nice bracelet that she slid on beside the leather wristband Hermione had gotten her for her birthday and Tonks had gotten her a miniature Firebolt that whizzed around her when she unleashed it. Sirius's present was a set of books, some Muggle literature Hermione had no doubt suggested he buy, along with some practical stationery and a few little moving figurines that seemed handmade. 

The little creatures seemed the same as the pieces in a game of wizards' chess, only sentient when spoken to, unlike Atlas's Little Albanian Agoniser who seemed to awaken on her own accord, or rather, who used to awaken on her own accord. Atlas was saddened by the thought the dragon would never wake again but snapped herself from the thought and tickled at the belly of one of the creatures with a small smile, watching as it retaliated for a moment before resigning to its fate and ultimately going still when Atlas stopped.

She moved on to Hermione's present after setting them with the wolf ornament on her nightstand. It wasn't wrapped like the others and was simply a wooden box, dark oak it seemed with brass clasps and a bow to sell the image of a present, Atlas huffed and opened it, pulling back the leather strip that covered what was inside. Whittling tools, all of different shapes and uses, handles beautifully crafted and blades beautifully sharp. They seemed magical in some way, emitting an aura of sorts. She hadn't whittle anything in a while, she'd done some brief carving but nothing huge. With these tools, however, she'd have to get into it again.

A loud crack startled Atlas and the lid of her box fell closed on her fingers. She winced in pain, glaring up at Fred and George who had just Apparated at the foot of her bed.

"Merry Christmas, Atlas," George beamed, don in a ridiculous elf hat.

"You know those are offensive to elves right?" Atlas grimaced, setting her box aside and cradling her fingers as she stood. 

"You're merry this morning," Fred retorted and pointed a thumb over his shoulder, "Sirius has been calling you, everyone's already downstairs."

"Right, and why were you two twats sent to get me?" Atlas muttered, slipping her feet into some socks and slippers. "Couldn't it have been Hermione?"