Christmas Eve in the Potter house was always teeming with life, and this year was no exception. James watched as his parents, aunts, uncles, and grandparents attempted to get the Weasley-Potter kids to sleep. Everyone was gathered in the large drawing room on the third floor of Grimauld Place, nestled into their sleeping bags, and quilts, surrounded by paper snowflakes, and magically twinkling lights.
At long last, Harry approached his eldest son. "Are you ready for Father Christmas, Jamie?" He spoke quietly as he slid down next to the eight-year-old.
"Daa-aaad!" James whined indignantly. "First off, it's JAMES, not Jamie. I'm too old for that," he glared at his father as the man suppressed a grin, "and secondly, I don't believe in Father Christmas." He declared the latter part with acute superiority.
"Oh, is that right?"
"Yes, that's right. Only babies believe in Father Christmas."
"Okay James, you believe whatever you want, but if, come morning, you don't have any presents, don't say I didn't warn you." Harry spoke confidently, and placed a single kiss on his most stubborn son's brow, to said son's chagrin, and stood to turn off the lights.
"Goodnight." He spoke to the room at large, and went to do his fatherly duties at Christmas time.
The next morning, James awoke with the rest of his sibling and cousins, lacking some of the excitement he'd had in previous years, and barreled down the stairs with the rest of them. Their Nana was already in the great room sorting the presents into piles, and she smiled warmly as her grandchildren entered.
"I wonder what we'll get this year." Fred said as he and James sat down on one of the many comfortable couches.
"I'm not sure, but I'm hoping for that new Comet 7800 we saw last week."
"That would be brilliant, but I doubt my mum, or yours, would let us. They're so picky about that sort of thing."
"Yeah, 'Quit flying round your brother with your eyes closed, you'll hit him.'" James said in an imitation of his mother.
Fred snorted. "Or, 'quit jumping from broom to broom, you'll fall to your death.'"
"Honestly it's like they think we're talentless." James groaned.
Finally, Molly cleared her throat, and everyone turned from their conversations to listen. "Okay, Teddy, here you are." She passed several parcels to him, and a handful to Victoire, who was sitting rather close to him. "Al?" He rose, and went to take the parcels. Finally, after ages of waiting, Molly held out only a few presents and a single card to James.
Perplexed, he took the presents, and looked at the nondescript, and unfamiliar writing on the outside of the envelope, ignoring the lumpy parcel indicating the customary Weasley sweater, and the box of candies from his Uncle Charlie.
To James Sirius Potter
From: Nicolas Claus
James tore open the envelope and flipped open the rather plain card.
I understand that you have lost faith in me. Now, I'm willing to give you a second chance, but you have to search out your gifts as you must search for your lost faith. Look in your room for your first clue.
Good luck,
Nick.
James' head shot up looking at his Nana in utter confusion.
"What's this rubbish?" He asks, accusingly.
"What's that, dear?"
"What's this?" He squeaked, pointing at the letter. Molly held her hand out for the parchment, and read over the letter while a smile graced her lips.
"It looks like Father Christmas hid your presents."
"But there isn't a Father Christmas." James exclaimed agitatedly.
"Tell that to your presents," A voice came from James' left. He turned to find Lily, with her hands on her hips looking smug.
Deciding not to argue, and heaving a dramatic sigh, James headed to his room to find his presents. Upon entering his room, James saw the note immediately. It was lying on his bed, next to a feather. Curiosity rising, James retrieved the letter.
You will find your next clue
Where your imagination once flew
Next to an old one, and others more new
He read aloud. "What the bloody hell is that all about?" He heard from behind him. He turned to find his fifteen-year-old god-brother who had, apparently, followed him upstairs.
"You tell me. Nana says Father Christmas hid my present, but there isn't a Father Christmas, is there?" He said it with so much conviction, Teddy had to hide a grin.
"Who's been telling you that?" Teddy asked after composing himself.
"Franky Longbottom. He says only babies believe in Father Christmas."
"Well, am I a baby?" Teddy implored.
"But, you don't believe in Father Christmas do you? I mean, you're fifteen."
"Yeah, I am, but I got presents from Father Christmas this year, too, and I figure, if he's still willing to give me presents, I'm willing to believe he exists, you know?"
"I guess," James spoke hesitantly, but Teddy's words were working their way into his head. "Well, even if he was real, and, mind you, I'm not saying he is, how am I supposed to figure out these clues? They don't even make any sense."
"Well, what's it say, again?" James handed Teddy the note, and he skimmed over it his brows scrunching together in concentration.
"This was next to it." He shoved the feather into Teddy's line of sight, waving it around.
"Well, it's a bird feather."
"Yeah, I got that, thanks."
"Oi! I'm trying to help here. Let me finish."
"Fine, go on then."
Shooting James a mock glare, Teddy continued. "So, we're looking for something that flies. What flies?""
"Broomsticks, of course," James exclaimed.
"Okay, so check the broom cupboard."
"Wait what about this old and new stuff. What's that about?"
"Hmm. Well, Harry keeps his old Firebolt 2000, and Ginny's Nimbus 2300, from their quidditch days on the third floor, doesn't he?"
"Yeah! Thanks, Teddy, you're brill, you know that?"
"I know." Teddy replied amusedly, and ruffled James' hair as he scurried up the stairs. James ran so fast, in fact that he didn't notice his dad walk past, and mouth a quick 'thank you' to Teddy.
James raced up the stairs to the third floor, and flung open the third door on the left. Sitting on the shelf next to his mother's Harpies photo, was yet another envelope. Inside was another letter, but inside the folds of the parchment he found a picture of his mum and dad holding a blanket with a tuft of black hair sticking up. Upon further inspection, he determined that the black tuft was him. Curiously, he unfolded the letter, and read aloud.
You once played here with your family, and friends
Now look for me, where your imagination began
"Well, that is curious, isn't it? Who's it from?" James turned to find his Uncle Percy.
For some reason, James felt an odd sort of embarrassment. Here he'd gotten all excited about some silly hunt.
"Nana and Teddy say it's from Father Christmas, but I'm not so sure."
"Why not?"
"Well, I'm not so sure he exists. I mean, no one's ever seen him, and he's never responded to my letters, or anyone else's that I know of. How do we know he's real?"
"That is a tough one, isn't it?" Percy said as he walked further into the room to stand next to James, and examine the photo the boy held. "Well, the way I see it, if he went around telling everybody who he is, people would never stop pestering him to find out what they're getting for Christmas. As for the letters, he may not write back, but he gives you presents every year doesn't he? I just assume that he's a busy man, and if he gives you presents, you don't really need a letter, do you?"
"I guess not, but I wish his clues made more sense. Where did my 'imagination begin?"
"Can I see?" Percy asked holding out his hand. Handing it over, James watched his Uncle's face.
He'd made a lot of sense. Maybe, Father Christmas was real after all. He didn't have time to ponder on almost revelation however, because his Uncle Percy began speaking a moment later.
"Did you know that you and Al both used Lily's room when you were first born? It was both of your nurseries."
"So?"
"Where did you spend the beginning of your life? Where did your imagination begin to form?"
"In…my…nursery?"
"Exactly." Percy spoke softly. Smiling widely, James bolted from the room, only to return a moment later.
"Thanks, Uncle Percy. I didn't know you could be so smart!" James said, and ran off toward his sister's bedroom.
When he arrived, out of breath, he opened the door to find his mum putting his sister's laundry away.
"What do you need, Jamie?" James let the nickname slide, instead looking around furiously for the letter, and raced to the dresser when he spotted it. Lying next to his sister's jewelry box was another envelope with the same plain script. "What's that?" His mum asked curiously.
"It's my next clue from Father Christmas." James explained quickly.
"What's it say?" His mother asked politely.
James tore it open, and looked at the letter with interest.
Look amongst the jewels to find the key
And what lies behind is yours to keep
"What jewels? What key? Muu-uum! What does this guy want from me?" His mum seemed to be suppressing laughter as he ranted. "It's not funny. I'll never find my present this way!"
"Calm down, Jamie." She soothed. "Okay, read it to me again."
"Look amongst the jewels to find the key, and what lies behind is yours to keep. But what does it mean, mum?"
"Well where did you find the letter?"
"Next to Lily's jewelry… oh! Can I look mum, please?" At her nod, James raced to the little wooden box, and lifted the lid to find a small character of a little girl on a broom. Around the figurine, was a string, and, at the end of the string was a key. James removed the key, and looked imploringly at his mum. "But where does it go?"
"What doors do we keep locked?" Ginny asked her oldest son. It took only a split second for him to answer.
"Dad's office?"
"Go try it." Ginny replied. Giving his mum a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, James raced down the stairs to his dad's office.
He was amazed, to say the least, when the key fit. He opened the door to find the room empty. Looking about for something of interest, he stepped further into the room. As if sensing his presence, an object floated up from his dad's desk, and glided toward him.
James' hand reached for the silky material automatically. It glided through his fingers, and he caught a small roll of parchment that had followed the odd cloak.
Thank you for believing in me.
Use it well.
Nick
James glared at the cloak in his hand. "This is what I get after all that?" He asked no one. Growling and muttering under his breath, James plopped down onto the nearest chair, and threw the cloak over his lap, only to jump up again when his legs disappeared.
"What?" He looked closely at the fabric, but saw nothing unusual about it, until he placed it over his arm, and it too disappeared. "How?" He mumbled.
"That's an invisibility cloak." He heard a deep voice from behind him. He spun to find his Uncle Bill standing in the doorway.
"Really?"
"Yeah, watch." Bill placed the cloak over his nephew's shoulders and conjured a mirror. Holding it in front of him, Bill watched as James gaped at his own floating head.
"Brilliant." He whispered.
"Who gave you that?" Bill asked.
"Nick."
"Who's nick?"
A wide smile spread across James' face as he replied. "He's an old friend."
"Well, be sure and write him a thank you note. Those are rare. Until then, your Nana's been looking everywhere for you. Lunch is ready, and we've been waiting on you to start eating." Nodding, James followed his uncle from the room, leaving the key.
In the dining room, there was an argument going on. Fred was arguing heatedly with Roxanne. "Father Christmas is not real!"
James froze in the doorway. "He is too, Fred. He gave you presents just like the rest of us."
"Did not, it was Mum and Dad."
"That's not true!" James heard himself shout.
"Don't tell me you believe all this rubbish about Father Christmas too, James. They can't have gotten you too." Fred cried dramatically.
"How else would I get an invisibility cloak?" He asked haughtily.
"You did not!"
"I did so," James replied holding the cloak up.
All other debates ceased as the children gathered around to look at James' new cloak.
That night, alone in their room, Harry lay with Ginny wrapped in her arms. "What you did for James today… Well, it was absolutely brilliant." She whispered to him.
"He deserved to stay a little kid a little longer."
"I think I love you, Mr. Potter." Ginny whispered in his ear.
"Well, I happen to know that I love you, Mrs. Potter." He spoke quietly, and looked into her beautiful brown eyes, and brought his lips to hers.
Christmas in the Potter house was the same every year. This year was no exception, and Harry couldn't appreciate anything more.