December, 1992

Harry was going home again for Christmas, and was planning on meeting the Dursleys in the parking lot so they wouldn't have to tolerate running into any wizards, or "your kind" as they called them, hating any mention of magic. He'd been hoping to invite Hermione to visit him at the Dursleys, but she was staying with Ron at Hogwarts for the holidays; no doubt to enact the Polyjuice plan he overheard them conspiring about occasionally.

"Malfoy's not going to say anything useful, you know," he'd warned.

"He will if he's talking to his most trusted friends," insisted Ron stubbornly.

"He's not the Heir, Ron," sighed Harry, but Ron just shrugged dismissively. "Well, remember to keep an eye on the time. You don't want to be caught out in the Snake's Den turning back to your normal self and end up losing a million points from Gryffindor. Take a second swig of potion before your time's up if you're down there for more than an hour."

"The Snake's Den? That's their name for the Slytherin dorm, huh?"

Harry nodded.

"Cool, good tips. Thanks for the help."

"I'm not… Forget it."

Harry's trip home was uneventful, and Dudley seemed pleased to see him again. And when Dudley was happy, his parents were too. So it boded well for the holidays. Uncle Vernon asked about his progress in uncovering the wizard who'd tried to ruin his dinner party, and Harry had to admit he hadn't discovered who it was, which made Uncle Vernon scowl. He did seem interested in Harry's story about how the elf had tried to kill him with an "enchanted piece of sports equipment like a flying bowling ball", and let Harry know that if the creature came around again, Harry was to deal with it.

Dudley was willing to keep on with their deal of ensuring a reduction in Harry's chores in exchange for homework and study help, and covered for Harry when he nipped off for a day on "wizard business" to visit Gringotts to bank most of his parents' possessions in his personal vault (he kept some of the books out, and a couple of assorted items like his dad's scarf).

Visiting his vault was the easy part. The thing that took the most time for that visit was his careful conversation with Griphook. He needed to make sure that his trust vault wouldn't allow other people to withdraw possessions he placed in there, and that no new bank fees would apply. In the end, Harry agreed to a small yearly charge from his trust vault to have both his vaults inspected yearly to make sure there were no magical or mundane pests doing things like chewing up the tapestries or rotting the wood. Should treatment be required they would negotiate fees at that point. Griphook assured him that no-one (apart from Neville) would be able to visit his personal vault to withdraw his parents' possessions. He also made sure his yearly statements would be mailed out in future, now that the owl ward was sorted out. After a little arguing he agreed to a one-off two sickle processing fee for that change, simply because he didn't want to waste the time bickering over it any longer. He did worry it would set a bad precedent, but at least he'd haggled it down significantly from the initial two galleons.

He also asked for copies of his parents' wills, and a list of which bequests had already been distributed, which Griphook eventually (after some slurs on his competency) conceded he'd be able to do. For a fee. Harry wasn't sure he'd done a good job negotiating it given Griphook's toothy grin, but he tried. For a galleon he would get a letter noting distribution of bequests, and two galleons for copies of the wills owled out to him. Eventually. He didn't want to pay any extra for "priority processing" so allegedly copies would have to be written out by hand.

After a break for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron Harry got on with the more interesting part of his planned outing, and hailed the nauseating Knight Bus once more. He was headed for Potter Manor.

"Blimey! Fancy us 'avin 'Arry Potter on the Knight Bus, Ern!" said the young purple-uniformed conductor (not for the first time that trip). He hefted Harry's magically light trunk onto the pavement.

Harry had decided to bring his trunk along just in case the grounds of Potter Manor had anything worth salvaging. He'd tried to say he'd look after his own trunk, but Stan Shunpike had insisted it was "all part o' the service."

"Tha'll be a tale worth the tellin' later, won't it, Ern? 'Ow we 'elped 'Arry Potter visit 'is old family 'ome!" Harry winced.

"I'd greatly appreciate it if you wouldn't gossip about it to any reporters," he said optimistically.

"Oh, no, Mr. Potter," said Stan. "Jus' t' friends, eh?"

Harry sighed and waved politely back as Stan waved furiously to him as the bus pulled away. He really wished he could Apparate. Or better yet, drive. He'd thought about catching a cab, but couldn't justify the expense and time of travelling hours north out into the countryside. And he certainly didn't want to be spotted whizzing about the sky on a broom.

Potter Manor was out in the country in Nottinghamshire, and the bus dropped him off on a paved asphalt road running through some fields and woods. There wasn't any sign for Potter Manor, nor could he see any ruins, but there was a cobblestone road joining onto the more ordinary asphalt road at right angles that the Muggle traffic seemed to be ignoring. It headed off into a forested area with some large oak trees flanking and overhanging the road on either side, making a shadowed tunnel of interwoven branches. Only dappled sunlight reached the cobblestones through the snow-topped canopy, and Harry thought it looked quite magical without any need for magic at all. In spring no doubt it would look magnificent.

Harry headed off down what he presumed was the driveway to Potter Manor, and the noise of the traffic faded away the instant he set foot on the cobblestone road. It was probably magic. Some distance down the driveway he eventually spied a snow-topped dry stone wall of lichen-covered rough grey stones, which he guessed marked a property boundary of some kind. To either side of the road were the shattered and broken remains of some old wooden double gates, engulfed by a tangle of ivy vines.

As he continued walking through the woods and then a more open area of snow-covered fields (though they appeared rather choked with brambles in places), he reflected that even if there was no house left, the sheer size of the land that formed the property must surely be worth a fortune.

As a light fall of snow started, Harry stopped and got his thickest fur-lined winter cloak out of his trunk, and the soft green scarf Millicent gave him last year that he hardly ever wore (lest people at school mistake him for a Slytherin). He wished he'd remembered to pack some gloves, but he'd forgotten them. The only other thing in there was an emergency snack of a corned beef sandwich he'd made that morning from last night's leftovers.

He wasn't expecting much of the manor, and that was just as well. There was nothing but a pile of broken masonry and old charred wood, in a large roughly rectangular area. He wandered carefully through it for a while, trying to imagine what it was like. The broken marble pillars suggested the front of the house had been quite magnificent, and he found more like them in the centre of the devastation. There was almost like a hollow in the middle of the wreckage, and he almost slipped into a pit at one point. There were a few plants growing in the middle of the wreckage too, but it was hard to tell what they were in the middle of winter as many had lost their leaves or were buried under a light coating of snow – he did recognise some rose bushes, though. Those thorns that snagged his cloak were unmistakeable. His best guess was that there used to be some kind of pool or pond in the middle of a courtyard garden, enclosed by the rectangular manor building on all sides. It was a very interesting design; he'd never given a lot of thought to wizarding architecture before. He recalled Professor McGonagall using Latin names for some parts of buildings when he'd chatted to her about statuary last year. He spent a while looking around the rubble of Potter Manor, but if there were once some statues decorating it, it seemed they'd been destroyed in an attack on the building, or the fire that had clearly affected it. He found only broken tiles and shattered stone. Compared to the manor, Potter Cottage was in nigh-perfect condition.

Harry checked his watch – he still had a few hours left so he decided since there was nothing obviously salvageable here he would explore the grounds and see if he could find the Circle that was rumoured to be at the manor somewhere.

It took him almost the full three hours he'd allocated until he found it, but Harry was nothing if not determined. This was his heritage. And since the Circle was clearly not close to the building, it may have survived the Dark Lord or Death Eaters' destructive attacks.

It was a bit of a disappointment when he found it. He'd been expecting something a bit like Stonehenge, but in better condition; mammoth rectangular blocks of blue-grey stone topped with capstones, in a perfect and impressive ring. Instead, what he eventually found in a small unremarkable clearing in the woods was a circle of rough, grey, lumpy boulders, covered with lichen and snow. Admittedly it had a nice view of a small nearby frost-rimmed lake further down a hill, but that was its only redeeming claim to majesty. Only a few of the stones were tall, but not much more than two metres high. Most were irregular boulders about waist high, and a couple were squat little lumps only as high as his knees. He guessed the Circle was perhaps twenty metres in diameter, so a fairly decent size at least. He counted the stones – twenty-seven, then counted them again just to be sure, and got twenty-five. The third time, he got twenty-six, and a vague feeling like something was going wrong with his counting. Either the snow was making things difficult, or he wasn't always seeing all of the stones correctly.

There was a bit of a gap between two of the largest stones that felt like an entrance, so he wandered into the middle of the Circle. Old Muggle fairy tales said you should never do that, however, Harry had read in The Decline of Pagan Magic that some wizards and witches used to ward their Circles and the surrounding grounds from interference by Muggles. Most commonly interlopers would either be unable to find the Circle in the first place. Or, if trespassers did manage to break through they would fall prey to a second layer of enchantment that trapped them within the Circle, usually to either dance or to sleep until the caster found and freed them. Some Muggles were known to have died as a result of such wards, so the Ministry had banned them a few centuries ago. A wizard, however, should be perfectly safe even if old wards lingered. Harry certainly felt fine and he found it really rather pleasant to stand inside his family's Circle. A tiny fairy ventured out from underneath a cluster of snow-covered plants at the base of one of the stones, and let out a curious buzzing chirrup at him.

"Hello beautiful fairy. Are you hungry? I believe you're omnivorous, yes?" said Harry. "The ones on our Yule tree last year ate just about anything." He put down and opened up his trunk, glad for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few hours that it had been enchanted to a light weight and he wasn't stuck with the old school chest McGonagall had once bought him. It was just a pity he hadn't simply brought a backpack instead – he hadn't needed his trunk at all in the end.

He took a bite of sandwich in demonstration of its edibility, then offered the little fairy a choice of bread in one hand, and meat in the other. To his delight, it flittered over on shimmering blue-green wings to alight on his right hand, and started nibbling at the corned beef with its tiny needle-sharp teeth. After it had devoured the morsel, it buzzed demandingly in front of his face. Harry laughed and gave it the rest of the slice of meat from half of the sandwich, while he ate the other half (and the leftover bread that it didn't seem as keen on. It let out a buzzing happy trill, and settled down on his shoulder to eat.

From what he'd read, and what he'd heard from Pansy, while there was a lot of ceremony associated with visiting a stone Circle, the key thing to do was to offer a sacrifice, preferably of blood or magic. He wasn't keen on sharing the former option but didn't have a problem with giving it a little magic. He was fairly sure that so long as he didn't use his wand, it wouldn't set off any alarms. He thought maybe it wouldn't be a big problem if he did use a wand, as he wasn't near any Muggles, but didn't want to take the chance; Aunt Petunia had made them sound really strict about it, and the teachers always made sure you knew you shouldn't practice magic over the holidays.

With the little fairy chewing and buzzing away happily on his shoulder, Harry approached the stone it had nested near (carefully avoiding stepping on the plants it had emerged from underneath), and placed his hand on the boulder. He closed his eyes, focused on his magic, and tried to channel it through his arm and into the rock, as if the boulder was a wand and he was casting a Lumos spell (as he'd practised a lot with that spell for the technique where you increased and decreased the rate of magic flow). It didn't seem to have the same resistance that he got when trying to push magic into a wooden or metal spoon for Potions. It was an odd sensation, like it was soaking his magic up like a sponge, but not letting it flow through it.

An excited trill and a whistle of wings past his ear startled him into opening his eyes; the stone was shimmering with a faint sparkle of golden light, and the little fairy had flown over to it and was rolling around on the top of the stone, rubbing its face against the rock and trilling, like a happy cat purring in a patch of sunlight. As Harry watched in wonder, he heard little questioning chirrups from the woods, then two other fairies zipped over to the stone with happy trills of their own to loll around the rock as well.

"Magic in a stone is like fairy catnip!" Harry said with a smile. "A gift of magic from me to nature, and the fey. Enjoy." Magic wasn't so bad, really. He'd never felt so connected to nature before. It was like he was a vital part of their ecology.

He watched them dance and trill and loll around like tiny little drunk people, until he glanced at his watch and swore. He'd better run to the road and catch the bus home, or he was going to be late to make dinner.

Harry decided to open his Yule gifts after dinner on Christmas Eve this year. Yule was a few days before Christmas anyway, so it wasn't like it was cheating, he justified a little guiltily to himself. He'd have to be up early on Christmas morning anyway to start cooking breakfast, and he knew there were a lot of gifts to get through this year.

Pansy's gift was opened first – it was just an envelope, which he'd found intriguing. Did the wizarding world have gift certificates? There was nothing but a short polite note inside, not even a card, which apologetically explained that his Yule gift was being special ordered, and unfortunately wasn't going to arrive in time for Yule. That was a shame. He wondered what it was.

Hermione had sent him a book this year, Isaac Asimov's Guide to Earth and Space, which was a non-wizarding book by the famous science fiction author that gave scientific answers to questions like, "What makes the wind blow?" and, "How was the moon formed?" Harry thought it looked really interesting. Harry had written to Flourish and Blotts to ask them about books on house-elves, and had owl-ordered her one that hadn't been in the Hogwarts library. He had no idea what was in it, but figured she'd be thrilled to read something new on the topic.

Neville had gotten him a new bottle of Invisible Ink, with a note saying he'd noticed Harry was starting to run out. It was a very thoughtful gift. He'd really enjoyed using the ink Pansy got him last year – he'd written a lot of notes for Potions in it in the margins of his textbook. He hoped Neville would like the cherry wood Potions spoon he'd bought him.

Before he left Hogwarts, Ron had given him a gift to take home to unwrap of a red and brown striped quill, and said his mother would no doubt send him another jumper. (It hadn't arrived by Christmas Eve, though.) Harry had given Ron a bunch of chocolate frogs.

Tracey had gotten him chocolate frogs again (he really should mention he was lactose intolerant), and Millicent had gifted him some soft green gloves that matched last year's scarf. Daphne had double checked with him that his owl ward wouldn't make her gift get lost, before bypassing the whole issue in an attack of paranoia and giving her gift to him before he left, "just in case". It was a dark purple Italian silk cravat. Harry felt guilty that he still didn't know a lot about what the Slytherin girls all liked – did that make him a bad friend? They really didn't chat about personal stuff very often. He'd gotten fancy chocolates for Millicent and Daphne, a silver Potions ladle for Pansy, and for Tracey (who'd oddly enough been the easily to buy for) he'd ordered a copy of the book on wizarding dining and party etiquette that Mrs. Parkinson had encouraged him to buy last year.

He'd wondered if Quirrell might send him another photo this year, and sure enough as night fell there was an owl with a delivery waiting on his window. But it was a book, not a photo. He'd bought Harry a new spell book by Professor Vindictus Viridian on basic curses: Curses and Counter-Curses (Bewitch your Friends and Befuddle your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and much, much more). The enclosed chatty letter included some encouragement to not be ashamed of his reported skill in Parseltongue, and that his heritage must surely include an ancestor from Slytherin's line. For Harry should remember that there was no good or evil, it is simply a power and he should not be too scared to use it. A rare talent such as his was something he simply must value and foster. He also included some advice in regards to his Yule gift.

I am sorry I could not send you a book on the Old Ways since you expressed an interest in such tomes. Unfortunately, most books on this topic are hard to procure, and many of the traditions are transmitted by word of mouth only, in any case. If I should by some fortunate chance stumble across one I shall acquire it for you.

While some of the spells in the book I sent are juvenile, it is useful to know the counters to such curses lest one be forced to rely on the dubious mercy of one's classmates. Other curses (all legal) in this book are surprisingly effective and their usefulness in duels is not to be underestimated for a young wizard who should not bow to the petty opposition of those who don't appreciate his skills for the wondrous gift they are. At your age I found the Tongue-Tying Curse particularly effective at stymying others in duels – for silent spellcasting is practically unknown in the junior years (and even some of the seventh years will never master that art). Do not let the sneers of ill-informed children discomfort you; remember you are destined for greatness.

It was nice to have an adult sticking up for him, instead of for his detractors. It made Harry feel kind of warm and happy to know that someone cared about him and his problems, and thought he was great. Harry tucked Quirrell's letter away with the others in the secret compartment at the bottom of his trunk, which he'd set now to only respond to a password.

Quirrell did tell Harry off a bit in his letter though – chiding him that Harry had told him last year he had no special powers in his family line. His soft rebuke made Harry feel more guilty than any of Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon's rants about his incompetence and stupidity had ever managed. So in his lengthy thank you letter Harry apologised sincerely, though he also added defensively that technically he said he had no unknown special powers. So what he'd said was true, from a certain point of view. And he knew what Parseltongue's reputation was like already from his reading – he'd never told anyone he could understand snakes.

This year Harry had additionally brought home a large number of small gifts, thanks to Pansy's unwanted hints. There were a lot of little presents including a large number of cravats (in different colours and styles) which seemed the most popular choice due to the somewhat traditional nature of the gift. There were also some quills, many sweets, and small bottles of coloured ink. In addition to the more generic gifts there were also a few stand-out unusual gifts, including a few potions personally brewed by some upper-year Slytherins he'd never heard of before, a pair of cufflinks with small silver snakes on them (from Draco Malfoy), and a new pointed hat with an intricate buckle on it (from Ernie Macmillan).

After a comfortable night's sleep with his fur-lined cloak spread out on top of his thin blankets for extra warmth, Harry was happy to bounce out of bed and cook breakfast for the family – thick cut slices of ham off the bone and some eggs, all fried and greasy and delicious.

The mountain of gifts was of course for Dudley as usual. But Dudley had a gift of his own to give to Harry this year - his old Walkman and a couple of old music cassettes.

"I've got a Discman now, so I don't need it anymore. It still works!"

"Thanks, Dudley," said Harry, surprised. "I got you something for you this year, too."

"It's not…" rumbled Vernon dangerously, with a raised eyebrow.

"No, sir," said Harry. "It's not, you know… anything odd."

Dudley ripped open Harry's present to reveal a pack of different coloured highlighters.

"They're very handy for highlighting passages in your textbooks," Harry explained. "I do it all the time if I'm reading something long and boring – you colour in a passage that looks interesting and like it might be on an exam."

"Oh yeah," mused Dudley. "I've seen that in your textbooks, sometimes. I figured you just got bored and started scribbling. So it's a study thing?"

"Yeah, it lets me look back for the important stuff for exams without having to read the whole book again. I use yellow for things that might make good test questions, like dates and places, and green for good points for putting in essays. But the colours aren't important – you can make up your own system."

From Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon Harry got clothes, note-taking supplies, and a roll of stamps. There was also an extra gift – a brand new "Teach Yourself French" book and tape set.

"It was my idea," Dudley said proudly.

Harry had wracked his brains over what to get Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. He wanted to get them something this year (in the past he'd used to make some craft project at school like everyone else), but didn't want to show off that he had an independent source of money for presents. So he'd secretly baked some cookies one day while everyone was out.

"There's lemon shortbread, and burnt-butter biscuits," he explained nervously as Aunt Petunia opened his gift a little warily to reveal the container full of biscuits. "I baked them myself here at home."

Aunt Petunia took a bite of one and gave a small approving smile, which was all the encouragement the others needed to grab some for themselves. Harry smiled proudly. They loved them!

After lunch and the consequent cleaning up, Harry spent the afternoon listening to his French tapes. He was pretty sure the Walkman wouldn't work at Hogwarts, so he'd have to leave it here. He invited Dudley to join him in practising French, but Dudley looked at him like he'd grown a second head.

"Are you thick or what? Didn't you see how much cool new stuff I got? I've got better stuff to do than study."

So Harry spent a quiet afternoon in his room practising French, and as sun set a couple of owls arrived with late gifts, as the new ward let them through at last. There were a few more "suck up" gifts (as he thought of them), and one from the Weasley family. The Weasleys' decrepit owl pecked him crossly before flopping tiredly onto his bed with a large magically lightened package that turned out to contain a knitted red jumper and a plum cake. Harry was glad he'd sent the whole family a large gift basket of cookies and sweets this year to share.

As he'd suspected from their correspondence earlier, the Appleby Arrows had indeed sent him some clothes in team colours as a Yule gift. There was a full set of Quidditch robes and protective gear in pale blue emblazoned with a silver arrow, a supporter's pale blue scarf with enchanted arrows picked out in silver threads that whizzed around the borders of the scarf, and an animated poster signed by the whole team. Harry decided he'd put it up on his dorm room wall when he got back to Hogwarts. Ron would probably be happy to hear he'd picked a team to support (even if it wasn't the Chudley Cannons), and no doubt would be able to quote plenty of statistics about the team. It had all been shrunken down for ease of delivery by an owl, as the accompanying letter explained, which could be easily reversed with a wand tap.

The remainder of the holiday passed without incident, except for a second covert trip out to Potter Manor (equipped this time only with a backpack and more snacks). He tried a couple of simple rituals at the Circle and did his best to charge up the stones with his magic. The local fairies seemed delighted by his efforts, and voraciously devoured his offerings of fruit and meat. He also collected a couple of blue glazed tiles from the rubble of Potter Manor as a small souvenir.

Dudley eventually got around to practising a bit of French with Harry, and joined him in practising saying things like, "Please pass the eggs" at breakfast time.

Soon enough he was headed back to Hogwarts, where one last special Yule gift was waiting for him. Pansy came and found him the instant he set foot on the Hogwarts Express, and before he could think about finding Neville she dragged him away excitedly to her compartment.

"I simply couldn't wait another minute!" she exclaimed happily. "Your gift arrived just a couple of days ago! Come and see!"

Harry wondered what had her so worked up. It probably wasn't a cravat.

A/N: The lesser Circle in the grounds of Potter manor is modelled after the Castlerigg stone circle (which is 38 stones in a circle 33m across). See my Profile page for a link to an image of it (though the one in my fic is more surrounded by forest, with a lake view). There are over 1,300 stone circles in the UK.

In case you're wondering about Harry's lactose intolerance, see Chapter 9 of "The Definition of Normal". Harry has neither a milk allergy nor lactose intolerance. He has an abusive uncle who tricked him into foregoing all kinds of desserts and other foods on the grounds of being "allergic", after adding an emetic to his "test" glass of milk. That'll teach him not to steal Dudley's ice-cream!

Thanks again to all the wonderful people who write a review, leave a comment, or favourited/follow my fic or leave kudos! Thanks this week to those who wrote a comment/review: mwinter1, Toraach, DragonfireOfHope, A Boleyn, Baelorfan, 01asdf, history, Crystal M. Key, SupremeEntity11, Lairenna, 9down6across, Thundramon, neogoblin, Annasfanfic, sh777, TheAzreal, Arvi, sephonered, LokiFirefox, vladomakos22, Maddie, angelwhisper526, and kaanna.

I'm not going to list everyone individually every chapter, but I will do so intermittently. :)