Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling
Chapter 27 :
The Christmas holidays were close. Harry felt a thrill of pleasure and anticipation whenever he thought that he would be spending them with a real family of his own, or almost his own. He kept a certain letter from Sonia in his pocket, a letter which specifically stated that he and Charlie would be leaving on the train to King's Cross, where they would be met and then take the floo from the station to home. The arrangements were easy to remember. What made the letter special was that it confirmed that the Greaves really and truly did want him home for Christmas. He needed to buy presents. 2nd Years did not have excursions to Hogsmeade, certainly not to any Muggle town. He made a tentative list. He wanted presents for each of the Greaves, including Anton and baby Susan, though Charlie said that presents for their Uncle Lyall and Aunt Adele would be from the whole family and he was not to worry about them. But there was only one possible shopping day between their arrival home and Christmas day. It was not enough.
Remus Lupin solved the problem for him. Wednesday's lesson was about the major breach of the Secrecy Act in 1749, and the repercussions. Lupin finished, "And that is when the Exchange Post Office was set up. Some of you may not have heard of it, but it is a way of ensuring that mail can travel easily between our world and the Muggle world. Christmas is coming, and Professor Zeller and I have obtained some mail order catalogues from Muggle stores for those interested in ordering from them. For some of you, Muggle items might be merely an amusing novelty, but you should keep an open mind as there are some Muggle items more efficient than the wizard equivalents. The catalogues will be in Common Room C, along with some wizard store catalogues. For homework, please provide six to twelve inches on an explanation of the Exchange Post office, the date it was set up, and noting the locations of the seven branches."
There were some pleased expressions at that - a mere six inches. Lupin hardly ever set them much homework, and when he did, it was a lot easier than the homework that Binns had set - probably because it had been so difficult to pay attention to the ghost's lectures.
Harry spent a lot of time looking over catalogues that evening. There were several other students there, including a group of 1st Year Slytherins who were giggling over the Muggle catalogues.
He enjoyed himself choosing and ordering items from the Muggle catalogues, a couple from catalogues from Wizard stores, and giving the Greaves Exchange Box Number as the delivery address. The items would be delivered by magic once it reached the Exchange Post Office, not by owls.
He had a more difficult time when he thought of Hermione. Would she want a gift from him since she did not want to be friends? Maybe just a small gift. She'd given him chocolate frogs last Christmas, when he hadn't expected any presents from anyone. It had to be nice, of course, but it must appear inexpensive, whether or not it was, and it must not be too personal. He put away yet another catalogue as unsuitable, when Draco Malfoy sat beside him and passed him a catalogue he hadn't yet looked at.
He glanced at it, and asked quizzically, "Dodgy Dealings, Draco? Really?"
Draco grinned and said, "Not really dodgy. That's just the name of the store. They specialise in items that appear fully Muggle, but have magical features for those who know the secret. I thought it might suit some of your acquaintances, maybe even those relatives you left behind."
Harry laughed, "If I gave anything magical to the Dursleys, they'd die of shock."
"I'm going to give my mother a selection of chocolates from one of those Muggle catalogues. She won't have had them before."
"You have an Exchange Box Number?"
"We don't have dealings with the Muggle world, so we don't."
"Well, Hogwarts has a box."
"Yes."
Harry was flipping through the catalogue - something for Hermione. And if it appeared Muggle, it would be usable at her home. They were not supposed to work magic during the holidays, and Hermione always followed the rules.
There were containers - the 'Dodgy Double Trunk,' a trunk that appeared normal, but had a false bottom and another full size trunk underneath. The 'Dinky Dodger,' a gadget that looked like a normal small heater, even with an electrical cord, but needed no electricity and a tap of the wand would have it either heating or cooling. 'Muggles will simply think it is out of order,' said the spiel, 'Maybe a bit dodgy even,' and there was an image of a mouth which burst into loud laughter when touched. There were all sorts of other things that appeared commonplace, but that had secret magical features. In each case, there was a marked spot where a tap of a wand would cause the hidden part of feature to activate. 'The magic is in the item,' it said, 'which means that no young wizard or witch need worry about the underage magic laws.'
Harry finally found something he thought suitable for Hermione, a 'Dodgy Dilly Bag.' It appeared to be a book bag made of sturdy cloth, suitable for a couple of books. But it had extra pockets accessible only with magic, and able to hold a dozen more books or anything else. It would only weigh as much as the contents of the visible part of the bag.
The main decision made, Harry spent almost as much time dithering over the exact colour and pattern of the fabric for the bag that Hermione might like, finally settling on one in subdued colours but with an attractive pattern of books. When he ordered, there was that one, plus several more for others of his friends, all different, and yet to be allocated. It was such a pleasure to have as much money as he needed. He just hoped that he could please everyone with his gifts, and not be inappropriate. He still had the opal necklace put away for Hermione. Maybe one day.
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Harry woke early on Christmas morning and stretched luxuriously in his comfortable bed in his own comfortable room. There would be presents waiting in the sitting room, he knew. Sonia had said the previous morning that they were all beginning to be too old for the tradition of a Christmas stocking filled with small presents, but since there was a new member of the family, she had done it for just one more year.
And then, when everyone was washed, dressed and breakfasted, they would open the presents that were waiting under the tree. There was no mention of any church attendance; Harry already knew that hardly any wizards were religious, though they often spoke of different beliefs that could be termed superstitious - the 'good spirits,' for instance, and all seemed to firmly believe in an afterlife. With the existence of ghosts, it was difficult to claim that dead was always simply dead.
But so many traditions were the same as Muggle traditions, the Christmas tree, for instance, which Charlie claimed was a wizard tradition well before it was adopted by Muggles. And there had always been a midwinter celebration, and it had always been an occasion when gifts were exchanged. And 'everyone knew' that Santa Claus had been a wizard. There were Christmas songs, often referred to as Christmas carols, but almost none that were religious in nature, and some that were exclusively wizard. Harry remembered some of those from the previous Christmas at Hogwarts. And he remembered something else - the Mirror of Erised, when he'd seen family all around him.
An enormous smile crossed his face. He thought he could hear Annalise and Connor belting out a Christmas song, one that he was sure he'd never heard before. He waited no longer, but showered just as quickly as he could, dressed just as quickly as he could, and went to join them. He had family. There was no need to yearn after a family that was long lost; he had a new family.
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Dumbledore had left his comfortable room at the home of Hestia Jones after a week or so of increasingly strong hints from her, and was now a guest of the Gudgeons, who were not very bright, but idolised him - as they should, he still thought. To show how he appreciated their help, he presented them with a large box of chocolates purchased from a Muggle store, but while Gladys said "How lovely," her husband reminded him that he had to leave before eleven as the family would be visiting.
"I could simply stay quietly in my room," Dumbledore said.
But Ian said scathingly, "You have already forgotten to stay quiet twice. We could be in trouble for allowing you to stay."
"Of course," Dumbledore said. "Let it never be said that I would stay where I was unwelcome."
He went to pack. There were others who would undoubtedly feel themselves honoured to host him for a few weeks. And since he could be appearing in Muggle areas, he chose a suit rather than robes. The suit was bright blue, and he wore a violet neckerchief tied in a manner he thought of as 'casually elegant.' Combined with the unusually long beard and hair, he was a conspicuous figure in any surroundings.
Not long later, he knocked on the door of Emmaline Vance, who looked him up and down and said in an unfriendly tone, "I hear you're in the habit of using Mind-Magic to get your way. And you don't hesitate to obliviate, either, even though it is strictly illegal."
Dumbledore tried to be disarming. "Why, Emmaline. You've been listening to the wrong people. You know me better than that."
Emmaline shut the door in his face, leaving Dumbledore fuming. He was wondering whether to enter anyway, and force her to do as he chose, but refrained when it occurred to him that she might be expecting visitors, as the Gudgeons had been. It was Christmas Day, after all, when families gathered. All the same, it was only when he saw an owl fly from an upstairs window that he thought she might have sent for the Aurors. There was a reward now, Hestia had told him.
He apparated away, reappearing close to a certain Muggle pub he knew. The owners there regarded him, refrained from laughing at his appearance, and told him he was early, but he could wait if he chose.
"Wait for what?" he asked.
"Well, it's a charity. We host a free Christmas Dinner for the lonely."
Dumbledore hesitated, Was he lonely? He guessed he was, and he put on his most charming smile and said so.
The lady led him to a pleasant sitting room, but then hustled away. They were expecting at least eighty, made up of the old, the indigent and the lonely, with a fair proportion of those who were merely happy to take charity. There was a lot of work to do. Dumbledore put his shrunken luggage beside him, settled in the armchair, and napped. He'd decide where to go afterwards, and maybe there would be a room here.
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Voldemort wasn't lonely. He was not yet sufficiently aware to be lonely. There was too little left of him to make a quick recovery, but even now, he was not dead. The surviving Death Eaters knew he was close, but had given up hoping that he could somehow free them. They were fed a bit better now, and the surrounds were not as cold. But where there were Dementors, there could be no comfort and no happiness. There was only cold and misery.
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Hermione was with her own parents. In the past, she'd often wished for brothers and sisters, but she felt her life too complicated now. How would brothers and sisters have felt if she had been the only one with magic? She looked up as a white owl came sailing through the open window. It was too cold for windows to be open in this weather, and yet she had hoped. Hedwig, the owl who belonged to the boy she was trying so hard not to care about.
She greeted her, gave her some treats, and accepted the letter that was attached to her leg, along with a package. She smiled as she opened the parcel, and wondered just how long Harry had looked before he'd found something so utterly suitable. She had given him chocolates the previous year, but only a card this time. At least it was the best card she could find for him, a funny one that featured a Quidditch player who was trying to escape a tangle of tinsel.
He'd be with the Greaves. Would they be having a formal Christmas dinner with many guests and luxury food? Would the adults be going to a Yule Ball? Tracey Bowen had been talking about that, that there would be Yule Balls up and down the country, and that she couldn't wait until she was old enough to go to them. 'Usually either Christmas Eve or Boxing Day,' she'd said. 'Never on Christmas Day itself.'
She was Muggle-born. If there had been no other problem, there was that - that he was now involved in the pure-blood faction who despised the Muggle-born. And even if they were not despised, they were a risk to marry when their sire was unknown. It was not a good idea to marry a near relative. It was Clare who'd told her, that most of the Muggle-born were a result of seduction or rape of a Muggle woman by a wizard. Her own beloved father was a highly intelligent man. It was a hurt that she was not related to him. Or probably not. Clare had also said that a very few Muggle-borns came from Squib families. She far preferred that scenario than the other. It was a pity that she had not yet seen any picture of her ancestors that didn't look entirely normal, entirely Muggle.
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Nicholas Flamel glanced up as the white owl soared through the window, waited until Perenelle took the letter, and then flew to join Vincent in the upstairs owlery. He finally asked, "Anything interesting?"
"A nice Christmas card, see? And he says that he is enjoying Hogwarts much more than he did last year, and that it's nice to have better teachers, especially in Potions and in Defence."
"So he says you're a good teacher?"
"I am a good teacher. Not that I want to do it for more than a year or so."
"How is Lupin treating you these days?"
"He seems to be over his resentment, probably because I am giving him better potions."
"I've been working on the Wolfsbane. I want to develop a potion that will stop the transformation entirely."
Perenelle gave him her full attention. Nicholas might have become a bit lazy in the last century or so, but he seemed to know by instinct how various ingredients might work together. She, herself, was probably as skilled as any other Potions Master, but Nicholas was exceptional. She asked, "Are you close, do you think?"
"Not yet, but I'm working on it."
"I was going to suggest you apply for the Muggle Studies job. Thomas Zeller has it now, but says he is resigning as soon as a replacement can be found."
"The Zellers are pure-blood, aren't they?"
"Yes, and he's so far behind the times in Muggle culture, it's laughable."
"I think I'd prefer not to. It will take too much time away from my research."
"It was just an idea."
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