Harry Potter and the Final Battle by Catherine King
	On Monday morning, Professor McGonagall escorted Harry and Ron to the back of the school, to a place where none of them had been before.  It was a very small church with a fine graveyard next to it.  Professor McGonagall left them at the doors, which, above them, was the head of the statue of a cherub.  A plaque said that this was the only one -- out of all the cherub heads that once adorned the church, this one was the only one that survived. The inside of the church was the most radiantly beautiful church Harry had ever seen in his life.  Statues of St. Augustine, with his mother, St. Monica, and St. Teresa and St. Patrick and St. Peter and St. George (complete with a picture of a dragon) were all around the walls. And the most meaningful painting of a sixteen-year old girl, who looked tired and worn, but happy, immaculate, was opposite the entrance.  She was holding simply the cutest little baby, who, in the meantime, was playing with her hair. Behind them was a handsome lad of about eighteen, looking on with satisfaction, even though he, too, was worn and tired.  Amazingly, the picture was not moving. The air in the church seemed to be made via rainbows.  Lovely stained glass windows filled the tiny area with sunlight.  The choir loft had eagles on every row, where the music books would lie calmly on their wings.  The Gospel pedestal was raised above the floor, attached to a pillar.  The seats were velvet, and all throughout the church there seemed to be the song ‘What Child is This?’ Outside the church, Harry took little notice of a tombstone that read Myrtle Motter.  Why should he?  Moaning Myrtle was a ghost who haunted the girl’s bathroom on the first floor, and a big annoyance sometimes.  Some other tombstones were extremely sad, such as, ‘In the memory of eight young children, who perished in a fire.’ Ron all of a sudden touched his shoulder.  Harry turned and he led him to a grave underneath a beautiful magnolia tree.  It read:                                              Erected in Honor of                                            Lily and James Potter                          Who died bravely against the wrath of Voldemort Ron left him there, and Harry went on to his knees to say a special, secret, and sacred prayer to the parents he had never had a chance to remember. After the prayer, he got up and said, “The Dursleys send their regards.”  An author once said, “The best way to face something deadly serious is to treat it a little lightly.” Upon his leaving, Harry had a sudden vision of a wedding, all white and beautiful, with him at the altar, and walking down the aisle to say the vows was… “Earth to Harry, come in, Harry.” Ron was pushing Harry out the door. “Come on, Harry. Gryffindor is gonna leave without us if you don’t get hoppin’, get jumpin’, get movin’ to the groovin’!”                                                          *   *   *   * Harry awoke on Christmas day, with that wonderful joy that only December 25th can give. He also had some presents at the foot of his bed. Harry read off the names of the people who had sent him gifts. “Cho, the Quidditch team - how thoughtful, the Dursleys, Hagrid, Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, Hedwig gave me a nip on the ear, thanks and ouch, Sirius, Professor Lupin, Professor Gradison.” Cho had given him a book about hexes; the Quidditch team gave a card that said, “Do not open until Graduation”. The Dursleys present was a ‘credit’ card that was waaay outdated (What was Speeocard? Sounded like an ancient pass for the Underground).  Hagrid: a book on giants.  Mrs. Weasley: A red sweater with an H on it and some peanut brittle. Hermione: a book about broomsticks. Sirius: a smart golden watch with phrases like, “Time for tea” and “Curfew.”  Professor Lupin had a pair of sunglasses from the Tropic of Cancer.  Professor Gradison had given him enough home made cookies to feed Gryffindor. “I can’t help it,” her note said. “Your father and mother both simply ooze out of you, and I always gave them cookies over Christmas.” The Great Hall had looked wonderful at Halloween, but it was nothing compared to Christmas. Everything just seemed perfect.  Snow was falling gently down, the Christmas trees which adorned the Great Hall were as beautiful as ever, and it all seemed to come from a Robert Frost poem.  Dumbledore led the remainder of the school into singing ‘Silver Bells,’  ‘Joy to the World’ (Professor Gradison sang it in Spanish, Togalogue, and Japanese), and ‘Jingle Bells.’  On the table was Waldorf salad,  honey baked ham, mashed potatoes, rolls, buttered, heated corn… After a great time building snowmen on the grounds, and having Professor Gradison’s cookies in the Gryffindor common room, Harry and Ron were ready for a nice long sleep and after a good amount of tossing and turning (his mind was saying, ‘This is the last Christmas you’ll ever have at Hogwarts!  Don’t let go!!’) until finally… Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.