This time last year, Harry had almost felt certain that he'd never know another lonely Christmas Eve, yet here he was. He'd eaten dinner in the great hall with the handful of other students in the castle of course, and had duly noted that the potion master's seat was empty.
Perhaps the man had returned to Spinner's End for Christmas? Or gone elsewhere, maybe to visit family?
He doesn't have any family, said a voice at the back of Harry's head.
He tried to shake it off, rubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses and considering trying to turn his attention back to the chess board.
If Albus Dumbledore had made any kind of noise as he entered the common room, Harry completely missed it – because when he caught site of the headmaster in his peripheral vision, he jumped out of his skin, sending the chess board and all its pieces flying into the air.
"Good evening, Harry," Dumbledore smiled, pleasantly.
"P-Professor Dumbledore," he breathed, trying to steady his nerves.
"So sorry my boy, I'm sure I didn't mean to give you such a fright," the older wizard said, though Harry wasn't sure that he sounded very sorry at all. "I trust you are having a pleasant evening?"