JPATNM ~ Chapter 12: In Which Salamanders Crawl Out of the Fireplace

A lot of people like snow. I find it to be an unnecessary freezing of water.

- Carl Reiner

Chapter 12:

In Which Salamanders Crawl Out of the Fireplace

~ Scorpius ~

The Malfoy Manor was radiant. A grand fir tree decorated the parlor, glowing from the purple candles floating over the edges of each branch. An elegant garland of gray pearls was wrapped around it and that was all the decoration it needed, according to Scorpius’s father. Scorpius begged to differ, considering the Hogwarts way of decorating in warm colours and ornamental balls more appropriate to the festive days; it gave the castle the right kind of atmosphere.

That was exactly where the difference lay; Hogwarts wanted to look festive, while the Manor was decorated merely as a show of power. Draco Malfoy was already making a favour to his only son for indulging to this present exchange. He only vaguely remembered the interest he had himself in Christmas presents.

Scorpius had gone with Penny to Diagon Alley to buy presents for his parents and had quite a difficult time choosing something suitable. Mother was easier; Astoria Malfoy liked to wear jewelry, nothing too extravagant, but precious stones. Especially in shades of green, such as jade and emeralds were appreciated. He entered Ranford Jewels and Precious Stones uncertain and came out certain he had found a gift perfectly matched with Mother’s green eyes.

Father posed quite a challenge. What to get for a man who could have anything he desired and desired nothing?

“Penny, what do you think?”

The house elf had looked at him with big, round eyes, her mouth slightly agape. “Penny wouldn’t know, Master Scorpius.” She shook her head. “Master Draco is a peculiar man, with a particular taste.”

“Too particular,” Scorpius mumbled as he evaded the crowds of witches and wizards doing their Christmas shopping, same as him.

Along the way he found a beautiful wand sheath on discount, which he reckoned that Grandfather Lucius would fancy, so he asked for it to be wrapped for him as well. In the end, unable to find anything else, he bought a premium quality quill made from Augurey feather from Amanuensis Quills and an ink pot carved out of dragon glass with the Malfoy insignia engraved upon it. He hoped Father would be pleased; he did a fair lot of writing after all, so the present was elegant and, more importantly, practical.

For Grandmother Narcissa he had chosen a silk shawl and for Daphne Greengrass,  Scorpius’s aunt from his mother’s side, a bracelet. Penny left him on his own for a few minutes, to return to the Manor and place the presents on the desk of her master, and returned to him briefly. Together they walked to the small shop of Aunt Daphne and used her fireplace to transport themselves to the drawing room of the Manor, which was more often than not unoccupied.

Shoot fell down from Scorpius’s clothes as he ducked to avoid the beautiful mantelpiece, and Penny clicked her fingers, a soft breeze moving from her to the fireplace, vacuuming the ash and dust in. Scorpius looked for his mother, to announce his return, and found her, as usual sitting in the music room.

The music room and the drawing room were quite similar, because originally they had been a single, enormous ballroom. They had been split about a century ago, when Lyra Malfoy and Eridanus Malfoy, two siblings with completely opposite personalities lived under the same roof. Lyra was a witch of many talents, among them her greatest was music, and she loved to be enveloped in blazing, pompous melodies every second of the day. Eridanus on the other hand was a man of the arts, enjoyed the silence as he drew. Coexisting in the same room proved impossible, therefore they created their own, separate spaces, each keeping the furniture of their fancy on their side. Astoria had told him the story when he was three years old and ever since he had requested that she repeat it many times.

Astoria Malfoy smiled from her purple armchair. She had been leaning her head against her hand, enjoying a soft tune coming from an enchanted gramophone close to her.

Her face was pale and a shade of purple showed beneath her eyes, but she wore her smile well. She had told Scorpius she had caught a slight case of pixie flu, which she got from Tatiana Goyle, when she had come over for tea a few weeks before the Christmas break. She was always a little frail and slow to recover, but she already looked considerably better than she had when Scorpius had returned from school.

“Here you are… I wanted to speak to you.”

“Yes, Mother?” Scorpius approached her and carried a chair over to sit close to her.

“I’ve been talking to your Father and he said that he doesn’t want anything too grand for Christmas.” She stopped to clear her throat. “We will have dinner with Lucius and Narcissa. And Daphne said she would also try to make it. I convinced him though to do something special for the New Year.”

Astoria Malfoy had a love for the winter holidays that her husband lacked. In the Greengrass household, where she came from, Christmas was celebrated grandly with reunions with extended family. At New Year’s Eve they organized a small ball on their family home. Things lacked this certain spark since she had become a Malfoy, but sometimes she could push little victories through. This year for instance at New Year’s, other pure-blood families would come for dinner and a small party. She took care so that all the boys Scorpius had mentioned in his letters were in the guest list.

Scorpius nodded, trying to look eager. The other Slytherins didn’t feel like friends to him; merely allies. He smiled and thanked her, wanting to please her.

The first half of the holidays passed uninterestingly; the presents awaited beneath the Malfoy Christmas tree and were opened exactly on midnight, but in a slow and unenthusiastic manner, with the exception of Astoria Malfoy. She thanked him for the matching earrings and ring and wore them on the spot. His Grandfather turned around the wand sheath and nodded approvingly and so did his Grandmother. Aunt Daphne put on her bracelet and wiggled her wrist so that the charms hanging from it clicked to each other. She smiled a little.

Scorpius’s attention turned to Draco. He picked up his present and unwrapped it, revealing no emotion whatsoever. His eyebrows lifted when he understood its contents and it raised the quill to inspect it in the light. “Augurey. They make interesting quills. It is nice.” He then inspected also the ink pot and put the tip of the quill in, as if testing it. “Very nice.” Scorpius smiled. It was a rare thing for Draco Malfoy to make a compliment of something - anything and with such ease. “Penny,” he said and the house elf hurried to enter the room. “Take this to my office.”

Grandfather scorned at the sight of the house elf, knowing she was free, quite differently than he believed things should be. To him it didn’t matter that Penny refused to receive a salary, he simply could not approve of something so absurd.

“You still haven’t replaced it?” he asked, in an unpleasant tone.

Draco shot a look at his son meaningfully. “Now is not the time.”

“Father, what does he mean?” Scorpius would normally not ask something so straightaway, but he knew what it meant. There was no way he would allow them to send Penny away.

“Of all the house elves in the world, you chose this, the f-f-fr- Ah, I can’t even say the word!” Lucius raised an arm in the air in frustration.

Something snapped in Scorpius. He glared at his Grandfather and for one second he thought he shouldn’t have bothered getting him a present. “Penny isn’t going anywhere. I like her. And if you fire her, I will hire her back as my personal house elf.” He turned around and once he was out of sight he sped up, running to his room. He meant it. He had the savings his parents had given him, for his personal expenses. They were more than enough to hire a house elf for a lifetime. He realized he was the only one who hadn’t opened his presents. It didn’t matter; he wasn’t going back down.

* * * * *

Wiltshire, just like all the surrounding area, had been shrouded in a cape of endless white for the holidays, a strong snowstorm enveloping everything in a melancholic aura. Had Scorpius company, the endless gardens with the hedge fences and the fountains might have proven as the perfect playground; not that was anything more ridiculous than a Malfoy galloping over the snow, having fun as if there was nothing constructive to do. Mother argued that it was good to let go once in a while, but Scorpius knew his Father would not approve of it. Besides, playing in the cold alone held no interest whatsoever.

On the day after Christmas his Mother waited on his bedside so he would wake up. It was the most embarrassing moment, because Scorpius knew that his eyes would be red and swollen; he didn’t want anyone to know he had cried last night.

“Nobody’s firing Penny,” Astoria assured him. She ran a hand through his hair, as if he was still a little boy. “You know your Grandfather’s views on the matter. It’s almost impossible to change his mind in his age.”

“But at some point Father will-”

“That’s why I am here. I won’t let him. Don’t you trust me?”

Scorpius nodded. “I do, of course, but, Mother…”

“But nothing. I may not look like it, but I have the last say in this house and your Father knows it.” She stood up. “Sleep in, it is still too early. I asked Penny to leave your presents here for you. Open them whenever you like.”

Once she left the room, he jumped out of the bed and ran to the presents. He felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. There were five presents and he could tell just from the wrapping which present was from whom. The flat package, sealed only with black wax, stamped with the crest of the Malfoys was obviously from Father. From Grandfather and Grandmother was a bag, tied with a velvet, green ribbon. Mother’s present had a card sandwiched between the wrapping paper and the ribbon, as she did every year and Aunt Daphne’s was large, loosely wrapped and had already drawn Rapax’s attention; he was watching it from his cushion across the room. The last one was a simple basket of freshly baked Christmas biscuits, which could have been from no one else other than Penny.

He started from his Grandparents; it was a formal cloak, a simple, but regal grey. For the New Year’s Party, was written in Grandmother’s elegant handwriting. Next he opened Father’s, which was, as he suspected, a book with historical references to the Greatest British Wizards of the Middle Ages. He had mentioned he wanted it in one of his letters. Mother had given him a small, heavy box, but it was locked. He jingled it a bit, but its contents remained unknown. He also tried an unlocking charm but it didn’t work. He wondered what that meant.

He took a bite out of Penny’s biscuits before moving on to Daphne’s present. He might need his strength when he opened it. Daphne was always a peculiar one. He tore the wrapping paper apart and opened the cardboard box. Inside was a glass case and he carefully moved it to his bed. Inside lay seven glistening spheres, each smaller than an eyeball, reddish-brown in colour. Scorpius checked the box again. There was a piece of paper on its bottom saying:

Fire Salamander eggs. Place tray without the glass cover over red flame for 70 minutes, or over blue flame for 25 minutes. Then remove, place the cover and wait for 20 more minutes, until the eggs hatch completely.

The first part was written neatly in calligraphic letters, but looked printed. Underneath was something more written, undoubtedly in Aunt Daphne’s writing:

They’re interesting to watch, thought you would love them. They don’t last too long away from a fire though. They’re delicious, although a bit spicy and it would be a shame for such delicacies to go to waste, but I am not sure if you have the stomach for it. They told me they’re not poisonous to jarveys either.

Have fun!

Daphne

If he had opened it last night, Father might have said for one more time that it was no wonder Daphne didn’t get marriage proposals. Scorpius took the tray with him to the first floor, into the music room and placed the eggs in its ember flames, waiting for the 90 minutes to pass, reading his new book under a Christmas tune coming from Mother’s gramophone.

Penny burst in the room after approximately forty minutes had passed. Scorpius set down his book. Had she heard the fight yesterday? Does she want to ask if we’ll fire her? “Master, Kreacher asked me to give you this.” She held out a package wrapped in an absurd paper with Santas printed on it and a striped white and red string. Couldn’t have come from anyone I know.

“Who’s this Kreacher anyway?” he asked out loud.

“H-he’s the Potters’ house elf.”

Scorpius’s pale eyes grew huge. He took the package and turned it around, noticing it warily. Harry Potter? He probably doesn't even know him. Is it a prank from James? Why would he bother? Albus P- It is from Albus!

“Do you know why this Kreacher gave it to you? They could have send me an owl.” Or not sent it at all.

“Penny and Kreacher meet sometimes, Master… In their free time. And Kreacher’s Master wanted to be sure it would reach you specifically, that is what he told Kreacher.”

“Sounds a little shady…” Scorpius mumbled, but shrugged. He untied the string and the packaging was removed easily. It was a book. The first from this series Potter had seen him read. There was a card underneath the front cover.

I wanted to apologize and see if I can make amends. I am sorry for Rose, I thought she was stopping on her own and that made me tell myself it was alright to postpone talking to her. I realize I was wrong. Since Christmas is the season of forgiveness and all, I decided to give it a try.

Please keep the book even if you don’t choose to forgive me,

Merry Christmas,

A.S.Potter

“Are you alright, Master? Can I get you anything?” Penny asked, concerned about the blank look on Scorpius’s eyes. They traveled across the card over and over again, trying to make the words sink in.

Eventually he flipped the cover open, to put the card back inside. There was something written on the blank space between the title and the publication date: To forgiving classmates… or maybe not. Scorpius wondered if Albus meant it, or if he did it just to rid him with guilt. It wouldn’t work though. What had happened was Potter’s and even more Weasley’s fault.

“Yes, maybe you can… How well did you say that you know this Kreacher?”

Penny’s face lit up. She kneeled down on the carpet and sat, occupying her hands with folding the discarded wrapping. “Oh, Kreacher is Penny’s friend. Penny’s old Masters used to be friends with the Blacks and Penny helped Kreacher prepare food together when they met for dinner and Kreacher said his master could help me later when my Masters died… He has been very nice to me and it is rare for Kreacher to be nice, so I think he is a real friend to have done so.”

“And does he talk about the Potters?”

The house elf pursed her lips together, looking thoughtfully at the string wrapped around her thin fingers. “He does sometimes. When he is excited about something, or if Master James does something very aggravating to him. Or if I ask.”

“When do you think you can meet him again?”

“Penny hopes she can after the New Year’s party in the Manor is over and all the excess kitchenware has been washed. So perhaps two days after the party.”

Scorpius nodded. “Good. I don’t want you to tell him anything about this, but ask him for news from Albus Potter. I want to know how he’s spending his holidays, what he’s up to.”

She nodded. “Penny will do her best, Master Scorpius. But you’ll have to excuse Penny now, because she has a stew that requires her attention in the kitchens.” She removed her presence from the room with an audible pop and Scorpius was left alone. He glanced at the grandfather clock across him; the ninety minutes were nearly done. He approached the hearth, looking through the flames and shuffled through the bucket full of fireplace instruments to find something appropriate to drag the tray out of the fire; the instructions didn’t mention how he was supposed to do that!

After much struggle the tray, radiating with heat so intensely that sweat dripped down the boy’s face, was placed on a table and its glass cover on top of it as the instructions requested. The eggs began to crack, losing their colour as the salamanders, black speckled with orange and red, slid out of the shells, leaving them transparent. Their little tongues flickered in and out of their mouths and they stood on all fours, investigating their surroundings.

Scorpius decided that they were too strange to try eating; maybe too strange to even let Rapax eat them.

* * * * *

There was this one place in the Manor, that no matter the weather outside, was always perfect. It had a soothing effect on Scorpius and he enjoyed spending his spare time there, immersing himself in a book. It was a patio, trapped between external stone walls of the Manor to its center, with a glass roof protecting it from the conditions outside. Jasmine and honeysuckle climbed up the walls, twirling green sprouts around lamp posts and brass pipes, grasping on any uneven surface they had at their disposal. In the middle of it grew a jacaranda tree. At that time, in the middle of the winter, it was bare of all signs of green; in the spring though it flourished, first full of purple flowers and then little, green, fern-like leaves appeared, hanging downwards like an umbrella.

The peacocks that wandered near the hedges in the rest of the year, seeked refuge in the patio during the freezing winter. Their pure white plumage stood out against the greenery, as they wandered about in search of seeds and crumbs on the ground; Penny used to show up about thrice a week to leave them leftovers from the kitchens.

Scorpius had been immensely interested in the charms shielding the room, maintaining the internal is such a steady condition compared to the unpredictable outside; it had more protection more than a regular greenhouse would offer. From what he knew, there was no Malfoy ancestor who was a great name in Herbology, so he knew not, whom to give the credit to for this architectural achievement. His fire salamanders had long perished, although they managed to win a few hours of extra life when he put them back into the fire. He dared biting the tail of one in the end, the temptation too great to resist and it was a wonder how he didn’t curse Aunt Daphne out loud at that very instant. His tongue was still sore after all these days and the eve of the New Year was almost there.

Penny had hardy the time to speak to Scorpius, always running up and down, always frantically making preparations. The final result though was worth it; perfect, as the Malfoy had wanted. Mother’s gramophone had been brought downstairs, as the living room had been transformed to a ball room, furniture set aside to allow space for the dancers. Astoria had tried to invite also some families with girls about the age of Scorpius, so the Luppets, the Metrons and the Zabinis would be there.

All the boys he saw on a daily basis at school had come, looking slightly different in their formal cloaks. Opal was neat as a ninepence, Oshwell breaking the tradition in his tie and more muggle-styled costume and Goyle somewhat awkward-looking and too big for his formal attire. Felix was a familiar sight, being a more frequent visitor of the Manor, so Scorpius hardly noticed anything peculiar about his presence. Evannina was rather charming and doll like, with her glossy black hair reaching down to her waist. She wore a simple silken dress, in a characteristic design Scorpius had only seen in Twilfitt and Tatting's.

The Zabinis and the Metrons made fashionably late appearances. The children were more of a crowd than the adults, as both were big families. The Zabini twins, Eva and Cassius stood as far from each other as possible, Cassius letting the Metrons stand between them, almost as a barrier.

He had heard Cassius had been ostracized by his own family; he had been sorted in Ravenclaw last year, and chose to hang out with the Scamander boys, of all people! Those two were mere wildlings, always traveling with their parents all over Europe, looking for potentially non-existent magical creatures. At least, that’s what the rumors said.

Eva Zabini on the other hand, had been a perfect, little Slytherin, without quite the achievement record of her sister, Adelaide, who was one of the House’s prefects, but since she was still in her second year, she had time to catch up. Scorpius noticed how Eva lingered closer to her mother.

The Metrons were an even bigger bunch, being six counting the adults and their offspring. Eleanor and Leslie were familiar faces to him, dressed up expensively and wearing hair clips that might cost more than all of the books for a year at Hogwarts. The eldest two had already graduated, but he knew their names; Patricia was the girl and Richard was the young man. Scorpius couldn’t stare at them for too long though; it hurt his eyes. There was a blatant contrast between them and the youngest Metrons.

The “children” sat on one side of the long table of the dining hall, plates and silverware already placed in their proper places for them and the “adults” on the other, so they could discuss whatever matters they desired without the disturbance of the young ones, since not all were as disciplined as Scorpius.

The food that night appeared and disappeared magically out of their plates, in a way that, combined with his Housemates surrounding him, made him feel like he returned to school one week early.

“... So after that, we definitely need to retaliate. It was a most badly tasting joke and a costly one at that!” Lesley concluded, describing the sorrow that had befallen them on the Hogwarts Express.

“I wished I was nearby, to catch them in the act,” Adelaide said, with pretended sadness. “But I was on the very end of the train.” Where you were obviously enjoying yourself more, Scorpius judged from her look.

Ryan, unfamiliar with Cassius’s circumstances due to his extended stay in the States, discussed with him in a casual manner, sharing his impressions of the wizards of the New World compared to the ones in Britain. Scorpius came to the conclusion that this would be the discussion that might be most substantial to all the rest, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to speak to Cassius. Not in front of Father at least.

“This pie is really good!” Ryan exclaimed, his mouth still half-full.

Scorpius smiled somewhat to himself; Penny’s culinary talent was indeed commendable. He wished Grandfather was there to hear that. Dessert was soon served and once out of the way, Scorpius’s hopes for a post-midnight snack were extinguished, knowing how much Goyle had gobbled down; Penny was far too generous, making two pieces appear after one was gone. They all moved on to the living room, where the crystal chandeliers were lit only dimly, to create a more romantic atmosphere. He looked around nervously, knowing that a romantic atmosphere was the last thing he needed around Evannina or the Metrons. He opted for the least likely to misinterpret his intentions candidate, and took Adelaide’s hand, who looked somewhat relieved of being spared a dance with Richard.

The gramophone boomed with classical music, unfolding in the room as if the sound came from all directions, on one side violins and violas, on the other flutes and clarinets. It was as if they had their own Orchestra playing just for them.

Scorpius felt a little funny, dancing with a girl a good thirty centimeters taller than him, so he turned his head to his side, looking at the others. They were dancing funny, not quite in sync and Patricia continuously stepping on Goyle’s feet. He had a strange look on his face, which was probably annoyance and a vague contemplation on if it would be okay to punch her. Ryan was left on the side, seated on a sofa with Cassius, unknowingly also set aside because he spoke to him, but not having noticed the fact.

Lesley and Eleanor alternated with each other to dance with their brother, doing him quite a favor as Nina Luppet and Eva Zabini did not offer to. Nina chose the more timid Mitchell, while Eva had gone with Felix, who spoke on and on about his love of Quidditch. Eva listened attentively as they swayed to the music, because of interest or future gossiping reference, nobody knew.

The music paused and the lights went out one minute before midnight and Scorpius let go of Adelaide, feeling two awkward holding her in the dark. He shuffled his feet towards a window, illuminated by the pale moonlight. They lit up again and a wave of noise came from the children, wishing “Happy New Year” to each other merrily. Scorpius exchanged wishes with them as well, although he could not exhibit as much fervour as they did.

The night ended shortly after one o'clock, where all interest of dancing was gone and all, but hopeful, ugly Richard, were splayed on the sofas, struggling between awareness and a sweet drowsiness. Scorpius noticed a satisfied smile on Mother’s face, as he climbed up the stairs to fall in the embrace of his soft bed.

* * * * *

“Would you play something for me, dear?” Astoria asked her son, who was observing mystified the melting snowflakes on the window panes of the music room.

“But I haven’t practiced in a long time, Mother.”

She smiled. “That doesn’t matter. Talent lies in the spontaneous moments of life, if there’s the will, practice matters little.”

Scorpius thought it was the other way around and practice made perfect. He couldn’t help but yearn though for the pleased look on her face when he played, even if he played a bit out of tune. While he was at home, it was common of the two of them to sit there in the weekend afternoons, Astoria moving her fingers to the music coming from the piano, or joining Scorpius with her harp.

The harp played even if no one touched the strings, since Aunt Daphne’s first year in Hogwarts. The Greengrasses had lent the harp to a friend and it was returned to them oddly enough, in a package with a note from Professor Dumbledore, apologizing for being unable to undo the enchantment that urged it to play. At least it was pleasant, always alternating between relaxing melodies. Father had cast silencing charms at it numerous times though, finding its constant playing insufferable.

The boy nodded, deciding to satisfy his mother’s wishes and played a Christmas carol, which was the first thing that crossed his mind. They played for a good two hours before the thing gnawing his mind for the last days emerged, coming back to his immediate thoughts by the presence of Penny by the door. He excused himself and motioned her towards his room on the second floor.

“So? Did you learn anything?”

Penny nodded urgently. “Penny doesn’t know if this is interesting information, but Master Albus has been spending all of his time in his bedroom, except now, because they went to their Weasley grandparents for the New Year.” Scorpius didn’t know if that was normal or not; he had no idea if Albus was a loner; at school he was always with his detestable cousin.

“Anything else?” He urged her to continue.

She pursed her lips together in thought. “Kreacher said, he thought it was curious. He had an old chest of House Black that he had not seen for over thirty years. Inside were some journals. He thinks that this is what Master Albus is studying so feverishly.”

Dark magic? he wondered. It would be no wonder for the Blacks, they had quite a tight history with shady arts, just like most of the Sacred Twenty Seven, the truly pure Wizarding families.

“Does he know whose are the journals?”

“Kreacher doesn’t know. But he thinks they’re from the youngest generation of Blacks. But it is not Master Regulus’s writing. He says he knows his scripture, he had been taught to imitate it in case the circumstances called for it.”

Regulus Black… He had heard the name, a long dead cousin of Grandmother Narcissa. The youngest cousin of Sirius Black… His mind reeled. What do I know about Sirius Black? Gryffindor, framed for betrayal and murder of his friends, proven to be false, godfather of Harry Potter… He could not fathom what could be this fascinating about him. He had to investigate more. “Penny, if you may find the time after your work is done, find me the family records from Father’s study. If he asks tell him I requested them.”

“Most certainly, Master Scorpius,” Penny responded eagerly.

Scorpius hoped he had more information by the time he returned to school. But he had only five days to do that.

JPATNM ~ Chapter 11: In Which People Prepare For A Very Potter Christmas

I was born into the most remarkable and eccentric family I could possibly have hoped for.

- Maureen O'Hara

Chapter 11:

In Which People Prepare For A Very Potter Christmas

~ James ~

During his first year, James had decided that nothing was lovelier than the ride back home for Christmas on the Hogwarts Express. He could write poetry at that moment, to show his appreciation for the beauty of nature. Oh, how exquisite the sight was, how white the snow, how bright the cold, winter sun!

Finally the screams began. He grinned at Fred and nodded in satisfaction.

“It worked,” he announced.

“Merlin’s beard, it did work!”

The Metron sisters screamed some more, as frantic bats sprung out of their expensive-looking bags. The boys watched them from a dark corner, as they run out of their compartment, tossing one of the bags from one to another, saying, “You hold it!”

“No, you hold it!”

“No, Lesley, it is your bag, your problem!”

“Well, you have to help me get rid of them, since you left your bag inside for the boys to take care of!” Lesley demanded in a high-pitched voice.

“Because I am smarter than you, that’s why!” Eleanor snapped back.

“What do I do, what do I do?” Lesley said, hopping from foot to foot as if her shoes were on fire. Bats kept on coming out endlessly and flew close to the ceiling in a fit of panic. James was mindblown at how strong the enchantment turned out to be.

“Let’s blow them up and get this over with!”

Lesley nodded in agreement. The bag fell limply to the floor, with no more bats left to come out. Something caught her eye and while the bats fluttered above them, she searched through the bag. In the meantime Eleanor was preparing her wand. “Eleanor, no, don’t!” she shouted over the winged mammals’ screeching, her eyes wide with shock.

“And why wouldn’t I? Did you change your mind? Want to bring them back to mother perhaps?”

“They’re my things! My bag is empty! My things have been transformed into bats!”

Eleanor’s eyes grew as big as tennis balls. She recognized a purple, satin strap that hung from a bat in the place of its right leg; the strap belonged to one of her sister’s favourite shirts.

“We need to turn them back!” Lesley whined.

“You need to turn them back. I have to save my belongings from the doofuses I left them with! If they have done anything to my new shoes…!” Eleanor growled and ran back to her compartment.

Lesley looked at the bats helplessly with watery eyes, as more screams and shouts came out the compartment her twin had entered.

“Messing with those two never gets old,” Fred whispered satisfied.

“Do you think we should tell them the spell only lasts for fifteen minutes?” James said, feeling a pang of guilt as he looked at Lesley’s crying face. A tiny bubble of snot peeked from her right nostril. He had never seen her so distraught.

Fred shrugged. “Want my opinion? She will realize it soon enough; seven minutes have already passed and she’s doing nothing but sniffle at them, so as long as no windows open for the bats to fly away, she’s good. Also, if you go she’ll know it was us and will chase you down the hallway, spitting every jinx she has learned in her mean, Slytherin life.”

James’s eyes widened at the realization. “Sounds about right. I don’t want her to do that.” No matter what impression he wanted to give to others, he still remained a year younger than Fred and the Metron twins and therefore with a considerably poorer repertoire of jinxes and counter-jinxes. Christmas was not the kind of holiday he wished to spend in St. Mungo’s.

The two boys returned to their seats and were making plans about what they would do together once they met before the New Year’s Eve at the Burrow, when other second-year Gryffindors joined them, exchanging their last “Merry Christmas” wishes before the train entered Kings Cross Station.

James hopped off the train and easily located his parents. They weren’t easy to miss; it seemed as if everyone had given them some respectable space in the platform, as usual. Uncle Ron was there with them and judging from the grin on Lily’s face, he was telling her one of his ridiculous jokes.

“See my Dad anywhere?” Fred asked, stretching on his toes and looking through the crowd.

“No, but let’s go to my parents, they might know.”

Albus and Rose came out from a compartment closer to them and reached them first, attacking the adults with obviously asphyxiating hugs. Once Uncle Ron spotted the two boys he let go of Rose and waved at them. “Oh, Freddy, here you are! Go get Roxanne, your Dad was busy at the shop, so I’ll drop you off there.”

“By car?” Fred asked in pretended terror.

Ron took the bait. “Of course by car! now go or I’ll tell Grandma Molly about that garden gnome goo you put in her casserole last year!”

“Aye aye, sir!” Fred said and made a 360 back to the crowd.

“There he is!” Ginny said, pulling him to a hug so quickly he almost bashed his head against Albus’s.

“Hi, Mum. I missed you too.” Ginny continued hugging him tightly. “You know, these public exhibitions of family affection need to stop, or my reputation will be ruined,” he said in a half-muffled voice against his mother’s knit jumper. She chuckled at released him. Freedom at last!

“James!” Lily squealed excitedly and jumped on his back, forcing an “Oomph,” out of him.

“Wow, Lils, are you getting heavier?” he teased, making a turn with his sister on his back.

“Not heavier! I’m a growing lady, I can only get taller at this age!” she retorted, unfazed by her brother’s typical humour.

“We’ve been off sweets for a few months now, James. Lily is looking forward to Grandma Molly’s Christmas cake,” Harry said. James took the hint. Don’t look in the jar over the fridge, we have no secret stash at the moment.

Fred came back with his sister, both of them flushed as if they were running away from someone. “Everyone ready? Shall we go?” Fred asked anxiously.

“I’m ready when you are,” Ron said, making a gesture towards the exit of the platform.

“They figured it out, didn’t they?” James whispered at Fred.

His cousin nodded solemnly. “And Eleanor’s new shoes didn’t make it.”

“Oh, for the love of Merlin!” James exclaimed. Harry looked at him curiously, but James grinned in a very disconcerting way. Harry turned around, deciding it was best for some things to be left unknown.

“Pray that she gets enough new shoes to forget about it during the holidays. Or else we’re screwed.”

* * * * *

“Whaaaaaaat?!” James demanded, for the fifteenth time in the last five minutes.

“Just for how long do you plan to do that?” Albus grumbled.

“But, it seems so strange! You with glasses! You’ll be a mini clone of Dad!”

“Don’t remind me…” Albus’s head slumped against the mahogany table, looking as if he had been condemned to spend a lifetime with Sirius’s mom’s portrait in his bedroom.

“But you know, glasses add an air of sophistication. The same person can look smarter with glasses than he does without them.” James decided teasing was not the appropriate approach at that moment. Glasses had been the absolute humiliation for Albus, after seeing how a Muggle friend of his was treated at school when he showed up one day with glasses.

“I will tell you what I told Neville: the only pair of glasses that I’d like, are the invisible ones!” A small thud came from Albus’s forehead as it touched the table again. James remained quiet, in deep contemplation. Albus took it as a reason to worry. “What? Whatever you’re thinking about, stop now.”

James shook his head with a gleam in his smart, blue eyes. “I think I just had the most brilliant idea. Let’s go ask Mum and Dad.”

* * * * *

“No, no, no, absolutely not!” Ginny said defiantly. “Albus Severus Potter, you are not wearing contact lenses at the age of eleven even if a new magical war descends upon us! That is not up for discussion! James, I don’t understand how you ever thought of something like that!”

James cowered slightly, recognizing a little part of Grandma Molly in his Mum. “Well, but shouldn’t you consider it, since Albus feels so bad about wearing glasses? I was only trying to be considerate for once!”

“If you don’t find a pair that you like, I can give you Mrs. Violet’s glasses, Al,” Lily offered sweetly, watching the argument from a comfortable distance on the couch. Al’s eyes widened in horror; Mrs. Violet was Lily’s favourite doll and had a  hideous pair of fuchsia, butterfly-shaped, plastic glasses.

“Thanks, Lils,” Albus said meekly, knowing there was no way that was happening.

“Harry, would you say something to them?” Ginny asked for his support, because had stood silent all this time, with a hand to his chin.

“Your mother is right, boys, contacts are not for children. They hardly are for adults either. A lot of things can go wrong, and they’re much more uncomfortable than you might believe.”

“What about some kind of potion then? Something to fix them up in a magical way?” Albus moaned.

Harry looked at Ginny. “Sorry, buddy. I have never heard of any potion fixing eye conditions permanently.”

“I can drink it every day though, if there is something!”

Ginny sighed. “You never took your vitamins daily if I didn’t chase you down the house to make you.”

James snickered. “She’s got a point, you know.”

Al’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s side are you on, anyway?”

James raised his hands in defeat. “I am sorry, lovely folks, my brotherly duty is done, I said what needed to be said, and now I’ll be leaving your company to enjoy my first day of holidays!” he said and ran up the stairs to his room. An inconceivable remark was made by the covered portrait of a certain Black as he stomped past it, before he reached his door. He had left his mark there, hanging out a sign he had carved with Grandpa Arthur out of wood, saying “Gryffindors only, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs tolerated”. He had added the latter two after Roxanne was sorted to Ravenclaw and he realized he had shunned Teddy out of his room with excluding Hufflepuffs. He realized he should take that down altogether, now that Albus was a Slytherin.

He turned the brass doorknob, holding the sign under his armpit. His room was on the most part as he had left it on the first of September, except for the faint scent of lavender wafting from his freshly washed beddings. He came to realize that some papers atop of his desk were also slightly more organized, in three neat piles; one had letters, the other had old school notes and the third was just all the rest uncategorized papers he had abandoned there. He hoped Kreacher was the one who did that, because who knew how much of his secret plots had been revealed if - Merlin forbid! - his Mum had read his correspondence with Freddie.

James pulled out his chair to sit down, as he reached for his wand to put it on the desk. He picked up a drawing placed on the cushion of the chair, drawn by the distinctive style of square-chested males and triangle-waisted females, an obvious creation of his sister. On top of the paper it said “Merry Christmas! Love, Lily” and underneath was a group of three, two black-haired boys and an auburn-haired girl, against two brilliantly red-headed children, one boy and one girl, throwing snowballs at each other in front of a strange house decorated in festive garlands. The drawn people moved, taking a step or two back, collecting new snow from the ground and throwing it to each other; Lily had put to good use the magical markers Harry had bought her.

James sat down and watched the drawing for a while, as the tallest of the black-haired boys, representing himself, turned around and shook his butt at the drawings of Rose and Hugo. He chuckled when Albus knocked and without awaiting for a reply walked in. His eyes fell on the unhanged sign still under James’s armpit, but he did not comment on it.

“We are going to an ophthalmologist and then to buy the glasses. Do you want to come?”

James sat up straight. He had the feeling it wasn’t their parents who suggested it; Al wanted him there. “Of course I cannot let you go without my unparalleled expertise on the matter of the glasses. We can’t have you not choose any and have to wear Mrs. Violet’s,” he said with a smirk.

“Thanks.” Albus smiled, the smile of a soldier on his way to the front lines. You really are a drama queen, Al, James wanted to say, but knew there was a time for joking and that was not it. “What did Lily draw for you?”

James flashed his sister’s masterpiece at Albus. “She’s made me a rather funny guy, don’t you think?” he asked as drawing-James fell face-first in a pile of snow.

Albus laughed. “Yeah, she has.”

“What did she draw for you?”

“All of us sitting by the fireplace opening our presents, when Fawkes appears out of the fireplace, throwing ashes all over the place. Her Fawkes is really good.”

“Show me when we return,” he said, as they climbed down the stairs.

The family took the car for the short drive to the ophthalmologist, who confirmed that Albus was as blind as bats, as James subtly put it, and walked to an optometrist’s shop right across the corner. The selection process was slow and torturing, as Albus stared at his reflection with a pained expression, taking off one pair as he rejected it, to move on to rejecting the next one.

He had tried everything, round and square glasses, thick and thin, metal, plastic, even a wooden pair and one made of jeans! For the love of Merlin, what was crossing those muggles’ minds when they made those? James wondered. They discovered that red was not Al’s colour and same went for blue, so they narrowed it down to green and black, which were the only colours Al was more prone to accepting.

In the end Harry looked like he suffered from a headache, Ginny was incredibly unsettled by Al’s indecision and even energetic Lily weary and uninterested. Albus eventually concluded to a simple rectangular pair of dark green glasses, the colour of pine-needles. James gave an approving nod when Albus looked at him, hoping he didn’t look as eager as he felt to be done with it. The optometrist took some final measurements about the center of the lenses and informed that they would be ready by tomorrow noon.

James had never been so glad to see the light of day again.

* * * * *

Number 12 Grimmauld Place buzzed with holiday glee, spreading across the Potters like an infectious disease. Bowls clanked and mixers swooshed as Harry prepared the dough for cookies with Lily. Ginny sat on the chair, enjoying the sight of her husband and daughter doing the cooking instead of her; she wasn’t much of a cook anyway and was glad that Harry was willing to take up this tedious to her task in the house.

Kreacher lingered nearby, polishing some silverware from a short counter at the corner. He didn’t look as gruff as he once was; one wouldn’t call him a ray of sunshine either though. He was loyal to the family and a great help as far as housework was concerned, but he was cautious, especially around this time of the year.

James knew that maybe he was to blame for that - it had been year after year that he tried to dress him as Santa’s Christmas elf after all.

“Have you seen Al?” Harry asked his eldest son. “I know he likes to lick the leftovers from the cookie dough.”

“Must be in his room.” Albus had spent a lot of time in his room after buying his new glasses. They stood out against his pale face and he didn’t like it very much. He knew they were not going to go unnoticed at the school. He didn’t say that out loud though; instead he said he had to finish his Silvio Trizzle book, which he could not at Hogwarts.

“Go get him if you can.”

James got to his feet lazily and climbed up the stairs. “Al! Al!” he called from the semi-floor, hoping he wouldn’t have to climb up the rest of the way up. He frowned at the lack of response and continued. He found his brother sitting on the ledge of his window, his barn owl perched on his knee. James absolutely loved this owl and approved his brother’s choice, even though he had never said that out loud.

“Hey,” Albus said, without turning to look at him. The owl turned its head, abnormally more than any animal should. Its round black eyes devoid of any emotion. That’s why he liked barn owls so much. Screech owls looked always surprised and horned owls angry; barn owls were putting a poker-face on.

“Good birdie,” he said, wiggling two fingers in front of the owl.

“I’m calling her Octavia,” Albus explained.

James nodded. “There’s some dough left on the mixer if you want it.”

Albus stroked the nape of Octavia’s neck, who bent her head back and gave out a little noise of pleasure. He wore the glasses, but he probably was trying not to think about it.

“Come on, Lils will eat it for you if you take your sweet time!”

He felt the urgency at that moment and hurried down. Octavia, disturbed by the sudden movements, flew away, perching herself at the top of Albus’s bookcase. Ginny smiled at them as they came down and gave a compliment to him about his glasses, much to his dismay. He cheered up considerably though since he ate some of the dough.

Lily dragged her brothers along in a mess of flour and dough, to shape cookies in the shape they liked. She smacked James straight on the head when he made one that was “Obviously hippogriff poo!”

Once the cookies were shaped and into the oven, Harry said, “Teddy will be coming over tonight. He and Andromeda will stay with us until Christmas.”

“Kreacher, could you prepare the guest room?” Ginny asked, and Kreacher got on his feet, leaving his current task only half-done.

“Just for Teddy’s grandma, Kreacher!” James called after him. “Teddy will sleep with me!”

Harry lifted an eyebrow. “How so?”

James put a smug look on. “Men’s business, all agreed beforehand,” was the only cryptic answer he gave.

* * * * *

To kill their time until it was 10’o clock, the appointed time of Teddy’s arrival, James had gone up to the attic, bringing Albus along. Lily had let them go on their own, to talk to Hugo on the phone.

The attic of the Black residence was a curious place of mysteries and wonders. It was almost impossible to sort out and therefore there was always something more to discover. The Potters had learned it the hard way, trying to organize the top floor for the past fifteen years, since they had moved to 12 Grimmauld Place as a married couple.

There were wooden crates piled in one side, farthest from the windows, marked with a logo with a unicorn, which their mother had said that was an expensive shop of Wizarding Houseware named Monoceros Maison. The Blacks had obviously been faithful customers to have had so many crates. But also rather clumsy or hot tempered wizards, to require so much chinaware for a single household, James thought.

“What do you think we will discover this time?” James asked, thrilled at the possibilities.

“Not shrunken skulls if that’s what you’re hoping for,” Albus said. James tsked in disappointment. But it was a bitter truth he already knew; shrunken skulls were not the sort of refined magical artifact the stuck up Blacks would have appreciated. “Look at that,” he said, casting lumos with his wand at a mountain of crates in the midst of the attic, towering up to the highest part of the ceiling. Some of them at the bottom were wooden, marked with a scratchy handwriting saying “Gryffindor Property! Hands off!”, some higher up made of thick cardboard, and amongst them an average sized chest, with the Black family motto inscribed on it. Toujours Pur it read and it was the only French phrase that James knew the meaning of; Always Pure. Despite his Aunt Fleur’s attempts to teach him, he had not learned a lick of French besides that.

“That’s odd,” James agreed. “I wonder how Mrs. Black left this mountain standing in the middle of her attic, especially the Gryffindor crates on the bottom.”

“Do you think it’s Sirius’s?” Albus asked. He kneeled down and ran a finger across the words, practically burned onto the wood. “Ah!” he exclaimed and pulled his hand back in pain. His wand fell from his hand, clinking against the floorboards. They got wrapped in darkness.

James hurried to light up his own wand and kneeled next to Albus, who was clutching his palm. “What happened?”

From the corner of Albus’s eye ran a small teardrop. “It burned me!” he cried. He took a few slow breaths and unwrapped his fingers, revealing his reddened palm. “I think it’s fading though.” About a minute passed that the boys waited and Albus said that his hand hurt no more.

“My turn,” James said, rolling up his sleeves and preparing for the worst.

“No! Are you stupid?”

“Well, let’s see just how cursed these boxes are,” James said easily, dismissing his brother’s worry with just a shrug of his shoulders. He placed his hand on the crate and waited. One, two, three… “Nope, nothing yet.” Five, six… “Not feeling it.”Eight, nine… twenty five. “Are we sure it’s the right one?”

Albus frowned, his new glasses casting strange shadows over his face. The two of them had spent countless hours in the darkness, searching through strange things - sometimes willingly and some other times not - but such a sight of Albus was unfamiliar. “That’s it, no mistaking it,” he confirmed.

“Oh, well. I suppose it just doesn’t like you then.”

Albus glared at him, a motion invisible in the luminescence of James’s wand. “That must be it…” he murmured.

“Sirius cursed his things to not like the second son of his godson? Right! Oh, actually that may be! Your middle name is Severus after all!”

Albus shook his head. “You’re absurd.” James paused, impressed by the speed which Albus had recovered from the teasing - if he had in fact been affected at all by it. He was turning into a tough nut. “No, no, that’s not it. It doesn’t have to do with me personally, not with my name either, Sirius would not even dream of me having that name. It’s because I’m a Slytherin!”

“You’re saying this as if it is a good thing.”

His green eyes were narrowed in two thin slits. “I will pretend I didn’t hear that. That’s why Mrs. Black didn’t clear out the boxes. She couldn’t touch them, because the crates say ‘Gryffindor’ property. He made a charm so only Gryffindors could touch them.”

“She could just use some charm instead of touching them,” James retorted.

Albus smirked and picked up his wand from the floor, casting wingardium leviosa at the crate. There was a spark and an unseen force knocked him back, once more his wand leaving his hand. “I need to stop proving my point to you this way,” he muttered.

“Oh, why? I find it immensely entertaining.” James crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the pile. “Kreacher then, she’d have Kreacher move them.”

His brother rolled his eyes. “House elves are not sorted to Hogwarts, therefore they’re not Gryffindor or any other House.”

“Fine, you win,” James admitted defeat, unable to find anything else wrong with Albus’s theory. “So, what do we do with them now?”

Albus shrugged. “I can’t probably do anything. Seemed interesting, but I won’t char my skin off to play around with Sirius’s stuff.”

“I don’t expect him to have enchanted the contents the same way. Probably just the crates so that no one could throw them away.” Al shrugged and sat cross-legged on the ground. He cast lumos again to offer some additional light, while his brother dismantled the tower of crates and spread them around the floor. “Look at that! A photo album! We should take that down to Dad! It’s got photos of his Dad and Teddy’s Dad too!”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea? He’ll know we were up here.”

James grinned. “Well, duh! He probably has figured it out already, we’re making too much noise! But he’ll forget all about it once he starts looking at the photos. He always gets so sentimental about those things.”

Albus nodded. James continued digging through the crate and found Sirius’s old robes and scarves, a couple of Gryffindor flags and socks, a bright, flame red pair, probably as some kind of joke. He set that box aside. The next three contained his school handbooks, which held not particular interest, except the ones for History of Magic which had drawn mustaches and horns and all kinds of other things on every single of the historical people pictured inside. James set specifically those aside, thinking about switching them with his own and closed them to move on to the next ones. The cardboard boxes contained mostly things such as mugs, glasses, a worn out lamp, blankets and more belongings that Sirius had probably accumulated while staying away from his family home.

The one that followed looked more promising. It contained a motorcycle helmet, with the face of a mountain troll drawn on it, a black, leather jacket and leather gloves. James pondered on taking them downstairs to his closet, but wondered if Mum would confiscate them if she saw them. He decided to let them safely hidden in the crate for now, but he pushed a rusty nail into the wood, marking this crate to tell it apart when the time came to find them.

Only the chest remained, which was black and silver, in a rather good shape, considering its age. There was an indentation for a key, but to their good luck, there was no need for it. Sirius had thought his charms were enough to keep it from his mother’s claws.

“Just some notebooks,” James said disappointed.

“They look interesting.” Albus leaned down to look at them and his glasses slid a little down his nose.

James snorted. “Whatever you say. Oh, well, since that’s the last one… Do you want me to take the chest to your room, or just take out your little notebooks?” he said, somewhat mockingly.

Albus shrugged. “Maybe also the chest. It would look nice in my room.”

“Very well then. You take the album and the books with you.” They stomped down the stairs, the sound absorbed by the thick carpets of the residence, but still giving a feeling of something like a herd of centaurs crossing by. “There you go,” James said, setting the chest on Al’s empty bedstand. “I’m leaving it open, since you can’t touch it.” Al nodded and handed him over the books.

Al glanced at the clock over his bed. “Whoa, it’s only ten to ten! When did it get so late?”

James grinned. “Well, that’s the point of searching through the attic. To kill our time.”

* * * * *

Teddy was welcomed by a surge of endless talking, news that flowed out James’s mouth at a speed that no human being would ever be able to comprehend fully. Luckily, Harry came to his rescue, covering James’s mouth and chuckling as he dragged him in the house, making space so the visitors could also enter.

Ginny exchanged pleasantries with Andromeda and they headed to the living room, where a James of endless excitement followed, dragging Teddy along. “Oh, and we found this album… you’ll go crazy when you see it! You too, Dad! It was stuck in a box in the attic, with Sirius’s things! Al, bring it down!”

“You were in the attic?” Harry asked astonished.

“Where did you think all this ruckus came from?” Ginny asked dryly. “I hope it is not left as if a bomb went off up there.”

“No, no, absolutely not, Mum,” James hurried to answer, although he wasn’t sure. Is it? Hell if I remember.

Albus galloped down the stairs with a big book in his hands and he landed in the sofa between his Dad and Teddy, taking the seat James had wanted. He said nothing and came to stand behind the couch over his brother’s head to look at the album.

“Oh, it’s from the time they went to school!” Harry said. “How did this one get away, Gin?”

“Don’t be so surprised. This attic will spit out undiscovered treasures until the end of eternity.”

Andromeda smirked. “I get the feeling you don’t like this attic all that much.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t like it at all. It somehow fits almost as many things as the Burrow and the Burrow has a lot of things.”

“I’m thinking renting an apartment. Something not enchanted for a change,” Teddy chimed in.

“Oh, can we come visit when you do?” James asked, leaning on Albus’s shoulders. His brother scowled but he paid him no mind.

“Of course. As soon as you are out of school. I think I will have moved in by then.”

James smirked. “Is Victoire moving in with you?” He made kissing sounds, and Ted’s hair turned tomato red in response.

“You little…”

“Yes?” James urged on, skipping to the buffet where the tray of the freshly baked cookies rested. He bit into the head of a unicorn cookie Lily had made.

“James Sirius, no sweets before dinner!” Ginny said, as James ran down a hallway, Teddy running after him.

* * * * *

Christmas Eve dawned in the Potter household a little earlier than the average British, at 07:05 on the dot. That was the longest James could stay in bed, silent, willing himself not to wake up the everyone. Of course he woke everyone in the end, even Kreacher who slept in the service room behind the kitchen.

Teddy crawled out of bed with dark circles under his eyes - the side effects of pulling an all-nighter with James and being roused too early; Teddy had always enjoyed his sleep and after graduating, he had never woken up before noon.

James sprawled himself on the carpet right before their Christmas tree, which was decorated by enchanted wooden angels whose wings fluttered to keep them in the air, and stared at the presents, too many too count, each addressed to a different person, of the family and the visitors, and one even to their house elf, whom Harry wanted to treat as part of the family. Lily sat on James’s back, staring at the wrapped presents in the exact same way as her brother, as if willing them to unwrap themselves magically.

She had actually done that once, on her sixth birthday. It had spoiled the surprise of midnight though.

Albus came down, a fist rubbing his eye, his glasses moving up and down with the motion of his hand. He smiled at the sight of them and went to sit in front of the tree next to his siblings.

“Is it just me, or the Potter kids are getting stranger every year?” Teddy asked, scratching his stomach over his shirt. His grandmother stood next to him, already a perfect lady, fully dressed and her hair pulled to a loose bun, ready to begin the Christmas dinner preparations.

“Is it just me, or have I raised you to become ruder every year?” she shot back and Ted chuckled as he followed her down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Do you think the big one could be mine?” Albus asked. There was this thing about the Potters’ Christmas presents: they weren’t addressed to their real recipient until the clock struck midnight. It had started out of James’s impatience to open his all too early, but after so many years it had become a family tradition. The children could spend hours making wild guesses about which present belonged to whom.

“Nah, absolutely not. Too big. Probably some dollhouse for Lils.”

Lily let out an excited yip and bounced on James’s back.

“Definitely getting heavier, Lils! Whoever told you you’re just growing up, lied to you!” he groaned in complaint. Lily got up and dropped her weight on top of him again. “She’s a little piglet, isn’t she?”

Albus chose to stay neutral. He needed no pranks from James this Christmas, but also no chasing from Lily asking him if she really got fat.

“I think,” James continued, “that your present is that!” He pointed at the tiniest package below the tree, barely visible compared to all the rest, with the vivid wrappings and impressive ribbons.

He laughed. “Oh, I think not. It is most obvious this is yours.”

“Mine?” asked James. “Mine, why?”

“Because in such a little box can only fit a bell, like the ones cats wear. So we know when you’re coming to take cover.” Lily chuckled. Albus knew that was probably for Andromeda, some little piece of jewelry that their Mum would have chosen, but the joke had seemed too good to keep it for himself.

“Of all the evils that might have befallen you, Al, I think that there may have been a single thing Slytherin has made you better in. I like this version of you, it is like you’ve leveled up.”

“If it’s okay for Al to be in Slytherin, can I also go to Ravenclaw?” Lily asked suddenly. It was surprising, because she hardly ever spoke about what she wanted to do in Hogwarts to her brothers; she did spend hours discussing it with Hugo though.

“We’re already as strange as can be, so you even go to the moon if that’s what you want!”

* * * * *

Around noon Albus disappeared in his room again and no one had seen him, although midnight was nearing. The adults were sitting together talking - Teddy was not with them of course; he was still considered a boy in James’s eyes - so James took the opportunity to tell him all about the Transfiguration spell he had used in the Metron twins’ bags.

“Oh, if the Metron are anything like their older brother…” Teddy shook his head at the idea.

“They have an older brother?”

“And a sister. Horrid people.” Teddy leaned in, and whispered to James’s ear, “And ugly like mountain trolls.”

James shook his head. “The twins are pretty.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, compared to mountain trolls, you know. For Slytherins. For Slytherins they’re descent.” His face began to turn red, knowing Teddy would never let him live down the humiliation of calling not one but two Slytherins pretty. He got up. “No, don’t speak. You never heard me say that, I was never here. I’m just an illusion of your mind, I’m not here, you can’t see me!” He continued repeating the same things as he did a not-so-excellent retreat to the hallway.  “Never had this conversation with you!” he called to the living room, his only response being Teddy’s booming laughter.

He continued walking backwards, not noticing he was not alone and almost stumbling onto his brother. Albus, who had seen him, held a hand to push him away and shooed him out of the room, cowering over the phone protectively. The Potters had a telephone, albeit an old one, to be able to work through the overwhelming amount of magic woven into 12 Grimmauld Place’s very foundations.

James skipped away from the phone and his brother, but could not resist the temptation of standing near the door to eavesdrop.

“Yeah, it’s amazing, I’m telling you! You’ll love it!” There was a pause. “Well, yes… yeah, there are notes. Now that I think about it they get a little confusing… yes, also about that. It will blow your mind. Best Christmas present, before I even get my Christmas present!” He let out a noise of excitement, quite similar to Lily’s girly squeals. “Oh, there are pictures also. You cannot imagine, just too awesome.” Another pause. “Okay, sure, see you in New Year’s Eve. Merry Christmas!” Once he hung up the phone, James made sure he vanished into thin air.

He had the feeling that was about the little notebooks, but he couldn’t look into Albus’s bedroom now, he could come up any moment now. Instead, he climbed one more floor, into his parents’ bedroom. It had been one of his favourite pastimes to go through their drawers - more often leaving signs than not - searching for anything interesting.

There was this one object that he desired to discovered more than anything. It would be the Holy Grail of pranksters, his very own God. The Marauders’ Map. He would find it one day, he knew it. But first, he had to discover where his Dad had hidden it. A sound came from the direction of the stairs. He shoved closed the sock drawer he was going through and slid out of the bedroom.

“James!” his Mum called from the stairs. He stepped into the light of the corridor; Ginny was out of her cooking apron, which she only wore on rare occasions such as festive meal preparations and wore nice clothes and a necklace. “Come downstairs, the Longbottoms arrived.”

“Archie too?” James asked. Archie was the oldest brother of Kate and had already graduated Hogwarts. Teddy always spoke about Archie the way James spoke about Teddy; so his Teddy’s “Teddy” so to say was quite the personality to visit his home.

“Of course Archie too, the whole family came. Even Hannah found someone to hold the pub for the night. Come along now.”

He would find the map one day; but today was not it.