Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanted to get back to

~John Ed Pearce

Chapter Thirteen

A Very Potter Christmas

"Honestly, Professor. We didn't have anything to do with this! We were just as shocked and appalled by what happened as everyone else. Sure, we wanted Gryffindor to win, but win fairly. Winning by cheating cheapens the game and the win," Remus spoke, his eyes wide as he attempted to convince Professor McGonagall of his and his friends' innocence. It had been several weeks since the Quidditch game and, despite an investigation conducted by Professor Strinkley, Professor Slughorn, and Mister Broadmoor, no suspects had been established.

The jinxes placed on the broom were at a second year level, meaning there was a wide suspect pool of anyone able to perform second year magic. The jinxes had been difficult to deal with because multiple jinxes had been cast on each broom. It had taken Professor Strinkley about an hour to remove all the jinxes on all the brooms as a result. However, aside from the same jinx being used on Cadwallader's broom as Sirius had placed on Snape's, there was nothing about the jinxes that linked them to any person or group.

The Gryffindor team was quickly cleared because, as per Hogwarts Quidditch regulations, they'd left their wands in the changing rooms and had no opportunity to jinx the brooms. Suspicion then shifted to James and Sirius. They were where Professor McGonagall's suspicions had rooted. Aside from the jinx similarity, James and Sirius had come into contact with the Slytherin team's brooms when they'd cleaned them during detention. However, other Professors had cleared them because the pair had been in with the brooms without their wands. They, too, didn't really have an opportunity.

Yet, Professor McGonagall was still suspicious. They'd gotten away with the Halloween incident. Who was to say that they hadn't done it again? Because of this, Professor McGonagall had taken to questioning the boys repeatedly, most likely trying to catch them in a lie. When James and Sirius had failed to convince McGonagall of their innocence, they'd turned to Remus. He was the only one who hadn't faced detentions, so there was a slight hope that he would be more believable.

So far, that hadn't been the case.

"I would like to believe you, Mr. Lupin. However, the track records of Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, and even Mr. Pettigrew make it hard to take them at their word. The evidence of who committed the act against the Slytherin's is unclear, but some of it points towards them. I sincerely hope it isn't the case, but I can't dismiss them as suspects yet," Professor McGonagall responded. She truly did look sorry, and Remus hoped that would come to outweigh her suspicions.

However, as the month of November passed, it seemed that McGonagall remained steadfast. For their part, the four Gryffindor first years, chose to spend the last few weeks of their first semester focused solely on their schoolwork. McGonagall was keeping an extra close eye on them, and it made pulling off even a small prank against Snape extremely difficult. She seemed to be everywhere all the time. But, the quartet had resolved, once their winter break was over, and the heat of the Quidditch incident had died down a little, they would be back with a vengeance.

Finally, the semester came to an end and Christmas break was upon the Hogwarts students. James was excited to be heading home to see his parents and regale them with all the adventures he'd had. His possible guilt in the Quidditch debacle still hung over his head and threatened to dampen his spirits, but James tried his best to ignore it all.

He quickly packed his trunk and ran nearly as fast as he could down to the train. He and Sirius sat in the same compartment they shared on their first trip to Hogwarts. This time, though, Peter and Remus joined them. Remus looked almost as excited as James. The sandy haired boy had spent the days leading up to the break enthusiastically talking about all his family traditions, and now he was nearly bouncing. James had only become more and more pleased the more Remus talked about his family. The messy haired boy had known that his persistence would eventually pay off. The skinny, sandy haired boy was no longer reserved and apart. He was a full-fledged member of their group.

Peter had said he was happy to be returning home and he looked it, but James sensed there was something keeping him from being completely joy filled about the holiday. Something in Peter's eyes, concern and worry, kept James from fully believing the mousy boy. There was some aspect of the coming holiday that had put Peter slightly on edge, but he was very good at hiding it

For his part, Sirius looked like he'd rather be writing a twelve-foot paper than going home. Sirius had mentioned he didn't get along all that well with his family, but James hadn't really understood the extent until he say his friend's less than enthusiastic expression as they sat on the train for home. Sirius had complained about his parent's on several occasions, but James had assumed that was just a young boy upset at his parent's strictness, but maybe it was more than that.

"Anyone for a game of exploding snap?" James asked, trying to distract Sirius and Peter from their thoughts and emotions. Peter quickly chimed in, followed by Remus. Sirius seemed to be a little reluctant, but James chose to interpret that as a by-product of the shaggy haired boy's foul mood. However, after only a few rounds of the game, all four members of the compartment were quite loud and raucous, thoroughly enjoying their game.

As they were enjoying themselves, James caught a glimpse of Severus Snape and Lily Evans making their way through the hall. Lily was clearly animated and eager, talking and gesticulating. She had a wide smile on her face and a shimmer in her eyes. In stark contrast, Snape had his shoulders hunched, his head hung low and a sour expression on his face. He looked very similar to Sirius whenever someone mentioned the holidays. Maybe Snape, too, was not looking forward to the time off with family.

However, James wasn't given too much time to dwell on the thought because Lily and Snape quickly moved on and the current game of exploding snap quickly drew back his attention. The foursome spent the rest of the train ride playing various card games and devising new pranks and hijinks they could inflict on the castle when they returned from the break.

Finally, the Hogwarts Express pulled into King's Cross station and the students disembarked and began their vacation.

Christmases at the Black residence meant a near endless parade of lavish parties at more and more decadent and expensive looking mansions. Each year, at around the end of October, the pureblood society women met at an exclusive pureblood tea shop in Knockturn Alley to decide who would be awarded the honour of hosting a Christmas party and, most importantly, who would win the highest honour of the highly coveted Christmas Eve celebration. The person who hosted Christmas Eve was considered the highest ranking pureblood in Britain. For the past five years, the coveted party had been held at the Black family home.

This year, however, the Christmas Eve party had been given to Walburga's sister-in-law. Druella Rosier-Black. It had caused quite the scandal, the essential crowning of a new highest family, and it had put Walburga in a foul mood.

"I blame Sirius," Walburga announced one morning over breakfast. She looked right at her oldest son as she spoke. "If you'd been sorted into a proper house and not the abomination that is Gryffindor, our family would still be considered the pinnacle! I mean Druella's daughter is dating a muggle and they still gave her Christmas Eve! It's because, despite their obvious flaws, all of her daughters were in Slytherin! Bellatrix and Narcissa are prefect pureblood women. I would be ecstatic to have them as my own! Instead I'm left with one perfect son and an… abomination!"

"Ted's a muggle-born," Sirius muttered under his breath. He'd long ago gotten used to his mother's abuse and, while it still stung, he'd developed ways to cope with it. One such way was to pick apart and correct the many misstatements his mother made during her tirades. She was usually far too focused on her anger to hear what Sirius said.

"You two had better make good matches and you, Regulus, must be sorted into Slytherin. I need to get back on top! Next year, Christmas Even will once again be mine! Kreacher!" Walburga continued her rant without acknowledging Sirius' words. She then stood and called out for the family's house elf. The small, slightly hunched elf quickly appeared in the Black family dining room. He stood before Walburga, absolute love and admiration in his eyes.

"Yes, mistress," the elf asked, bowing so low his nose touched the ground, "how can Kreacher be of service?"

"We have been given the task of hosting a Christmas party on December 23. It is an unforgivable step down for our family, and we must ensure that we put on the best soiree possible to ensure that such a travesty does not occur again. Now, let's get started." Walburga stood and left the room, rattling off a long list of tasks she expected the family's sole elf to complete in only four days.

Sirius groaned, dreading the next five days of parties and the pureblood families that would be attending them. He'd really wished his parents would have allowed him to spend Christmas at Hogwarts as he'd requested. Then he could have avoided all of the pain and annoyance he would no doubt experience and actually enjoy the holiday season for once. But, to his parents, having a child not return for the holidays was a black mark on the family, and Sirius had accumulated too many for them to let this one slip by. He needed to be represented to the pureblood society so they could see that, despite being sorted into Gryffindor, he was still an honourable pureblood.

The Pettigrew household was meticulously decorated. The garland and wreaths were magically maintained to keep their green colour and pine scent long after they would have normally faded. The Christmas tree that was placed in the house's front window was decorated like it was in a magazine. All of the decorations matched and were hung in a precise manner to create the perfect aesthetic. The house was lit with Christmas candles and a simple, yet elegant string of lights around the front window and door, and along the roofline.

In short, the house looked like a painting, like someone's envisioning of what a perfect Christmas would look like.

But Peter knew the truth. The decorations were a façade; they were his mother's attempts to make it appear like all was merry and joyful at the Pettigrew house. But, much like putting lipstick on a pig, it wasn't effective in changing what it was actually like to be in the house. Like so many of the Christmases of Peter's childhood, this Christmas was definitely not merry.

Peter rolled over in his bed, wincing as he placed his weight on his side. A large bruise was forming on that side and still hurt whenever even the smallest amount of pressure was put on it. Along with the bruise on his side, Peter was nursing several red, angry welts on his backside, and a rapidly darkening black eye. When she had a chance, his mother would easily heal his wounds, but until then, Peter had to be careful how he moved, sat, and lay in bed.

Peter's father had come home upset the day before. He had, once again, been passed over for a promotion at his job at the ministry. For years, he'd been angling for an upper management job, but had failed to get any higher than an assistant to an assistant in the Minister's office. So he was extremely upset when he arrived home on Christmas Eve.

Then he'd seen Peter sitting on the couch reading letters from James and Remus about how their holidays were going. The reminder of Peter's friends, and the fact that they'd gotten Peter in trouble and stained the Pettigrew name, set his father off.

"Peter! Front and center!" he yelled, causing the preoccupied boy to jump at the suddenness, "And bring the notes!" His father added the last statement when Peter had attempted to hide the letters behind a couch cushion. His father had told him that he didn't like Peter hanging around with boys that would so easily get him in trouble and had, very forcefully, suggested that Peter find different friends. However, for the shy and awkward Pettigrew, he didn't desire to change friends. For one, James, Sirius, and Remus seemed to genuinely care for him and how he was doing. James and Sirius always tried to include him in their antics and Remus was always willing to help Peter with his schoolwork. Their friendship was easy and effortless; Peter didn't have to work to be apart of the group. He didn't want new friends because they would most likely be nothing like the ones he currently had.

Extremely reluctantly, Peter stood and made his way towards his father. Shakily, he handed over the notes, terrified about what was to come. His father quickly read through the letters, zoning in on the signatures of the bottom. The elder Pettigrew angrily balled up the letters and threw them, hard, at Peter's head.

"Didn't I tell you those friends were bad news? Didn't I tell you to stay away from them? Didn't I tell you that you'd regret it if you chose not to listen? Why do you think you can defy me, boy?" Peter's dad grabbed onto his arms tightly, his fingers digging in to the soft skin of the eleven-year-old. The elder Pettigrew then proceeded to take out his anger on his son, beating him with his hands and his belt.

As Peter lay in his bed the next morning, Christmas morning, in a house decorated to look like a perfectly happy family lived there, he could help but think about what James had written. In his letter, James had described a family and events that would have perfectly matched the images of Peter's house, unlike Peter's family.

"Peter, darling," his mother lovingly called from the hallway outside his room, "Come on down! It's time to open presents! Your father and I are waiting for you!" Peter sighed, then carefully rolled out of his bed, very aware of his injuries. As he descended the stairs, he just hoped his father's anger didn't ruin Christmas morning as well. If not for him, then for his mother who had put in so much effort to make the season perfect.

Remus awoke in a small room in the cellar of his home, and a sense of relief washed over him. As unpleasant as W-Day was, there was some comfort in it occurring in the safety of his home. There was familiarity in this room, certainty. He knew that nothing truly bad could happen in this room. Despite Dumbledore's countless reassurances about the precautions they had taken, Remus still didn't have the same level of certainty.

He slowly moved over to a small metal box in the corner. It had claw and teeth marks covering it, but was still intact and closed. Remus carefully opened the latch and revealed the neatly folded Christmas sweater and well-patched pants held within. He took out the clothes and gingerly put them on, trying to avoid the fresh read scratch and bite marks that covered his body.

Just as he pulled the sweater down over his head, a series of clicking noises reverberated throughout the room. Remus turned to face the door, eagerly awaiting its opening. Finally, after several seconds, the heavy door slid open. Behind it stood Remus' dad. Lyle Lupin looked tired, yet he smiled warmly at his son.

"Hello, Remus. How was your night?" Remus' dad asked as he stepped to the side and motioned for his son to exit out of the small room.

"I feel better changing at home. It's comforting," he responded, slowly walking out of the cellar and climbing the stairs to the rest of the small house. His muscles were sore, a result of the strain they'd been put under the night before. He always felt sore after W-Day. It had become a slightly twisted sense of normal for him.

When Remus finally reached the top of the stairs, he was met with the delicious smell of sizzling bacon and warm, fresh made biscuits. After every W-Day, his mother made him the same, absolutely delicious breakfast. She'd cook up several pounds of bacon and make flaky, moist biscuits from scratch. Because Remus was always so hungry on the morning after W-Day, he would usually polish off most of the bacon and all of the biscuits.

Once again, the sense of familiarity brought a comfort to Remus. He found himself enjoying the morning, something that hadn't really happened before. Normally, the events of the night before hung over the family, and Remus especially, in an oppressive cloud. But on that day, so soon after Christmas, the cloud had dissipated some.

"Good morning, Remus dear. Breakfast is nearly ready. Go wash up and I'll put the food on the table." Remus' mum spoke without looking at him. Despite her lack of magic, Mrs. Lupin had always possessed the uncanny ability to know when Remus was behind her without having to look.

He quickly hurried to the small hall bathroom and quickly washed his hands and fac. A shower would definitely be required, but he figured it could wait until at least after he ate. As if to make this point even stronger, his stomach loudly rumbled. Yes, definitely eat first then shower and properly clean up later.

When Remus returned to the cozy, delicious smelling kitchen, the small table was piled with food, and his parents were sitting in their normal spots eating and quietly talking about various different topics. Remus slid into his small, slightly shabby chair and eagerly began piling his plate with bacon and a small amount of fresh fruit his mother had included in an attempt to provide her boys with a balanced breakfast. Remus then dug in, thoroughly enjoying his mother's cooking, being with his parents, and not having to hide his secret for fear of being found out.

It was definitely good to be home.

James sat on the floor in front of the large Potter Christmas tree. Wrapping paper was spread throughout the floor surrounding him. A wide smile was plastered on his face. This Christmas had been absolutely perfect. The night before, the extended Potter family and many of the Potter's friends had gathered at the mansion to celebrate with copious amounts of food, drink, and good cheer. The party had gone late into the night as the revelatory party-goes thoroughly enjoyed themselves.

Then, on Christmas morning, James had awoken early and gone down to see the family tree with a mountain of presents beneath it. Most were for James, gifts from the guests of the party as well as his parents. With each gift that James had opened, his joy had only increased. Now, having opened the last gift, James sat and took in the moment.

Christmas was his favourite time of year and this one hadn't failed to deliver in joy, merriness, and general Christmas spirit. It had truly been a very merry Potter Christmas.