Author's Note: I came up with this idea Thursday night while working on another story and it just begged to be written. In my mind, this is now absolutely head cannon.
Harry wrote to McGonagall at the start of December. He'd been thinking about her, and Hogwarts, all since term started on September first. He hadn't wanted to go back this year. He needed time and space to pull himself together. Funnily enough, Hermione had wanted time and space to pull herself together as well, but she'd gone after it in the opposite way. She thought the regular structure of lessons and classes again for a couple of terms would help reorganize her mind after the war. To each their own, right?
He glanced down at his letter one more time before sending it.
Headmistress McGonagall,
I hope the first term is going well. I know there must be a lot of challenges right now. I know you're probably very busy, but, do you know how many students are staying for the Christmas holidays? Could I get a list?
Happy Christmas,
Harry
He stroked Artemis's wing for a moment and tied the letter to her leg. She wasn't Hedwig. No other owl would ever be Hedwig. But she was already proving to be a good friend to him, much as Hedwig had been when he first entered the wizarding world.
Minerva had been surprised to see the letter from Harry. She'd rather gathered from Hermione that the boy had been a bit aloof this year, trying to collect himself. The girl worried terribly about her friends, even with as much else as she had on her plate. On top of her NEWT classes, she was trying to restructure the Muggle Studies curriculum. Minerva wouldn't turn down whatever assistance she was willing to offer; she had her work cut out for her as it was trying to hold everything together.
Harry,
It is very good to hear from you. The fall term has gone as well as can be expected; if you'd like to visit or help with any of the rebuilding efforts, you are more than welcome. I know Miss Granger and Mr. Longbottom would both be pleased to see you as well.
I do have a rough number for the number of students staying over the holidays. It's 12. Unfortunately, I can't provide a list of names. May I ask what this is regarding?
Happy Christmas,
Headmistress Minerva McGonagall
She sealed the letter and sent it off. She wondered what exactly he was up to, but she could make a fair guess. Still, she hoped he would come in person. It would do her heart good to see him.
Harry wasn't quite ready to face Hogwarts or McGonagall yet. A part of him knew he should, but the memories were still too fresh. Too raw. But he couldn't help thinking of the students who had nowhere else to go for the holidays. The students whose only home anymore was Hogwarts. He had been one of those students.
He could still remember the surprise he felt when he received his first Weasley sweater and fudge. He hadn't expected any gifts that year.
It took a whole fleet of owls to send them all off, but Harry had put together Christmas stockings with a handful of the milder Weasleys Wizard Wheezes products (clearly labeled), candy, small toys, and some useful items—parchment, ink, new quills. Kreacher had been pleased to help with the wrapping and taken it as something of a consolation prize since Harry hadn't been very interested in having Grimmauld Place decorated for the holidays. Every item in the stockings was wrapped individually so they'd have plenty to open on Christmas morning.
A dark haired boy woke up on Christmas morning, the only one in his dormitory. He thought he might try to find the kitchens over the break while everyone else was gone. They had to be somewhere. Maybe if he could find them and show off to the others when they got back, they might like him a little better.
In the meantime, he was going to have the sure breakfast he knew was waiting for him in the Great Hall. Maybe he'd practice some Quidditch. It was cold out, but he had to practice some time if he ever wanted to make the team. It wasn't like anyone else would be using the school brooms today.
He got dressed and descended to the common room. The fireplace was burning cheerfully, and there was a Christmas tree set up off to one side, but still close enough that if you had presents to open, you'd be near the warmth of the fire. If you had presents.
He hardly gave it a second glance, except to wish that he could have had something under the tree. And that's when he noticed the Christmas stockings. He was sure they hadn't been there the night before, but clear as day, there were four Christmas stockings hanging from the mantle. One of them had his name on it. He approached, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled it down and sat right there, between the fire and the tree. A hand written tag wished him a happy Christmas. He traced over his name stitched onto the stocking.
As the boy started pulling gifts out of the stocking and unwrapping them—gloves, a pack of Sugar Quills, a pack of actual quills—he heard footsteps behind him and looked up.
"Oh, Christmas, yay," said a quiet voice. "Have fun. I'll be at breakfast."
He looked up at the hanging stockings. There was only one with a girl's name on it. "There's one here for you too, look."
"What? No one would have sent me anything…" she trailed off.
"Someone did. Come see."
A smile broke out on her face as she approached. She found her stocking and let her legs fold up under her into a seated position. "Who sent these?"
"I don't know. But I'm glad. Happy Christmas."
"Happy Christmas."
Author's Note: Not quite the right time of year for this, but it's giving me warm fuzzies and it insisted on being written once it came into my head. I imagine that after the war, Harry sent stockings off every year to all of the students who stayed at Hogwarts over Christmas. Tomorrow there should be another update on The Professor. I don't have a date yet on the next Mugglefied update, but rest assured, it's coming, and Exhausted as well. Hopefully the McGonagall one-shot that's floating in the back of my head will coalesce soon as well; I've never written anything quite like what I have in mind, but McGonagall deserves it if I can pull it off.