A/N: Ravenclaw House, Year 2 student, writing a drabble for "Sound: Whistle". W/C: 407

Thank you to my wonderful beta reader and teammate: Celestia0909

"And for you," Ginny smiled, passing Harry the last of the Christmas presents.

Dressed in simple paper, the package was no bigger than a ring box. Harry thought to make a joke about this but decided to save his sass until all the Christmas gifts were opened. James, Albus, and Lily had already finished unwrapping theirs and were eagerly waiting to see what their mother had gotten for their father.

Harry opened it almost reverently, pulling the tape away from the paper and sliding the wrapping away from a small white box. It was cardboard, and very simple. Inside, was a perfect silver whistle.

"It's magic," Ginny told him quietly. "Give it a try."

Pressing his lips to it, Harry blew.

Suddenly, he was eleven years old, and the whistling of the Hogwarts Express chimed as the train began moving. Then, the scene dissolved and he was twelve, and the same red engine whistled below him as he and Ron soared through the sky.

Each memory swirled and faded as a new one took its place.

He was standing on the Quidditch pitch, listening to Madam Hooch's whistle and the whistling of fans as she announced that Gryffindor had won. Then he was cheering and whistling as Ginny flew to the pitch in front of him as a witch he didn't know announced that her team, the Holyhead Harpies, had won.

The Quidditch pitch faded into a blustery winter evening. It was Christmas again, but he was in Grimmauld Place and Sirius was whistling Christmas carols as he hung the decorations.

The laughter of an infant replaced Sirius' song and Harry was holding a baby James up for Arthur Weasley to see, the newborn cooing in his arms. Arthur whistled.

"That's a big baby!" he said, laughing.

The images moved and shifted.

Harry was kissing Ginny goodbye and walking out their front door, only to stop when her familiar wolf whistle made him blush. He turned around to kiss her.

And then he was back in his living room on Christmas morning and his wife and children were looking at him with expectant eyes.

"I never realized how important they've been," Harry whispered, his eyes damp.

Ginny smiled at him. "All those memories," she said. From the other room, the kettle whistled and Harry cracked a grin.

"Let's make some more," he laughed.

Kissing him firmly on the mouth before standing up, Ginny blushed. "Merry Christmas, Harry."