Before dinner, there was the traditional weighing.
This was not an ancient custom, Edward VII had introduced it in the early twentieth century, apparently on the theory that a guest's weight gain or loss over the holiday was a more honest measure of how much they had enjoyed themselves than anything they might say.
The practice had caused Diana certain anxieties in earlier years, since maintaining her weight required a careful balance between eating enough to be polite and not eating so much as to be conspicuous. That particular calculation had lately become less difficult.
Christmas Eve dinner was formal. Long tables were covered in white tablecloths and set with silver candlesticks and matching cutlery.
A large Christmas tree stood in one corner of the sitting room, decorated with small crowns, a miniature throne, and several Corgi ornaments—Elizabeth's favourites.
The menu was traditional: roast turkey with chestnut stuffing, roast ham, roast potatoes, parsnip purée, Brussels sprouts with bacon and chestnuts, and a brandy butter Christmas pudding.
William and Harry were at the children's table, wedged in beside Princess Anne's daughter Zara, the three of them engaged in a heated debate about whose Canary Creams had produced the most impressive results, despite the fact that Diana had confiscated the bag some time ago.
Henry sat at the main table, with Diana and Lucy to his right. Lucy had been given a chair identical to everyone else's, with a matching set of cutlery in front of her, and her legs were hanging several inches above the floor.
She was almost entirely rigid with nerves. Diana leaned toward her every so often and murmured, "It's all right, Lucy, eat whatever you like."
Prince Philip sat at the head of the table with a wine glass and continued his running discussion with Charles about the Christmas tree decorations and whether they were hanging at a different angle to last year's.
Princess Anne and Edward had found a political topic and were developing it with increasing volume until Elizabeth gave a small, quiet cough.
As dinner drew to a close, the Queen tapped her glass very lightly.
The room went still.
"This year," she said, her gaze moving around the table, "I want to say something particular."
She paused, and her eyes found Henry's with a smile that belonged only to the two of them.
"Thank you all. Especially for those very thoughtful gifts."
Warm laughter moved through the room.
Philip raised his glass. "To the Queen!"
"To the Queen!" The table rose with it.
Christmas morning.
At half past six, the Sandringham kitchen was already in full activity.
Lucy, wearing a hastily improvised apron, stood at a counter that was considerably taller than she was.
In front of her was an arrangement of ingredients she had brought herself: butter, flour, icing sugar, cinnamon, and a small jar of magical yeast from Diagon Alley.
Prince Philip's breakfast challenge had not been forgotten, and she had no intention of treating it casually.
The Sandringham kitchen staff watched her with cautious curiosity. They had all heard of house-elves, but none of them had seen one at close quarters.
She moved, they quickly discovered, at a pace that suggested she occupied a slightly different relationship with time than they did.
The dough was worked in moments, the oven was loaded, and then she clicked her fingers and skipped several steps in the process with serene efficiency.
"Are you quite sure you don't need any help?" one of the younger staff members asked, carefully.
Lucy looked up and shook her head with great seriousness. "No, thank you. Lucy can manage."
Twenty minutes later, the first batch was ready.
The biscuits were golden and dusted with fine icing sugar, each one pressed with a different design: flying broomsticks, blinking owls, and a Sorting Hat with its brim open as though in the middle of a song.
The designs moved, the broomsticks flew, the owls blinked, the Hat's mouth opened and closed.
The kitchen staff gathered round, producing sounds of genuine amazement.
Lucy's tea-towel was wound into a very tight knot, but her expression was unmistakably pleased.
By eight o'clock the royal family had begun appearing in the dining room.
Breakfast was a buffet: fried eggs, bacon, sausages, roasted tomatoes, mushrooms, baked beans, and a large platter of fresh fruit arranged along the long table.
The most immediately striking item, however, was the plate of Hogwarts-style butter biscuits.
William reached it first, seized a flying broomstick, took a bite, and declared with complete conviction that it was delicious.
Harry grabbed an owl, which winked at him. He jumped. "It's watching me! It's looking right at me!"
Prince Philip came in with his coffee, glanced at the plate, and looked across at Lucy standing quietly in the corner.
"You made these?"
Lucy nodded, her expression very controlled.
Philip picked up a Sorting Hat biscuit, took a bite, and chewed. His brow furrowed slightly in the manner of a man giving something his full professional attention.
Lucy's composure was holding by a very small margin.
Philip swallowed and reached for his coffee. "Not bad," he said.
Lucy waited.
He picked up a second biscuit. "Better than I expected."
The relief that moved across Lucy's face was considerable.
At half past ten, the family began preparing for Christmas service—one of the most significant public appearances of the year, when the entire family walked together to St. Mary Magdalene's Church on the Sandringham estate.
A substantial crowd had gathered well before their arrival, along with reporters, all of them hoping to catch a good view.
Elizabeth wore a bright powder blue coat with a matching hat and gloves.
The colour had been chosen with her stylist two months in advance. "I want to make sure that the people waiting patiently outside can see me clearly," she had said at the time.
Charles followed in a dark coat. Diana wore an elegant dark blue suit. William and Harry, in the care of their nanny, were dressed in matching sailor-collar coats, their faces pink from the wind but waving enthusiastically to everyone they could see.
Henry walked a step behind his grandmother in the dark grey coat she had given him the previous Christmas, exactly the right weight and cut for the occasion.
The noise from the crowd rose as they appeared.
"Your Majesty! Merry Christmas!"
"Your Highness Diana! Over here!"
"Henry! William! Harry!"
Children waved from behind the barriers. Adults pointed cameras.
Elizabeth moved through it all with total composure, nodding at intervals. Diana smiled and waved in a way that seemed to make everyone who saw it feel briefly that she was smiling at them specifically.
William and Harry were briefly overwhelmed by the scale of it, then adapted rapidly and began waving back with enormous enthusiasm, which produced delighted laughter from the crowd.
Henry walked alongside them and felt none of the discomfort that might have been expected.
He had stood in front of crowds in a considerable number of European countries at this point. He was, in the relevant sense, a professional.
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