Chapter 12: Christmas and Things
Tracey's family and Harry took the floo straight to the Davis residence from the station. Harry still stumbled out of the floo and into a dense carpet on the sitting room floor. Harry looked around, the sitting room was slightly larger than the Dursley's, made even larger by the lack of a television. Were it not for the occasional magical knick-knack or lack of electrical lights, it could be confused for a muggle house from a few decades ago. Out the window, was a muggle cul-de-sac.
"It's not much," remarked Mrs. Davis.
Tracey popped out of the floo, landing gracefully on her feet and stretching happily.
"It's wonderful! Tracey, I thought you said you had no contact with muggles? That's a street lamp out there," questioned Harry.
Mr. Davis appeared in the floo as if he was simply walking out of the fire.
"Most communities are mixed Harry. Godric's Hollow has one of the highest concentrations of Wizards you'll find," said Mrs. Davis.
Harry felt his mouth dry.
"We're in Godric's Hollow?" he asked weakly.
"Tracey! You didn't tell him where we lived?" her mother admonished her.
"I thought it would be a surprise!"
"Pretty good surprise," Mr. Davis remarked with a grin on his face. Harry did a double-take at the man's expression.
"It is not a good surprise dear. How do you like your tea Harry?" asked Mrs. Davis.
"Surprise me," said Harry, smiling at the joke. The only tea he ever drank was from Hagrid, who never did anything to it.
"Anything is better than the swill Hagrid serves," Tracey pouted.
# # #
They sat down for a nice tea while Tracey talked about their classes and friends. Harry said little from his recliner opposite the fire, his mind preoccupied with where he was.
His parent's graves should be here, they could even be a walkable distance away. At the Dursleys, he hadn't allowed himself to care for them. Caring about his mother and father was a weakness they would exploit to make him sad or angry. But when they were so close… He felt guilty at not being a good son more than he felt sad that they were gone, which only made him feel more guilty.
"Tracey, this year it's going to be a little different," remarked Mr. Davis wearily.
"Different daddy?"
"We're not going to the Yuletide Solstice party at the Malfoy Manor," said Mrs. Davis.
"Is everything okay?" Tracey asked nervously.
"Yes dear, everything is fine. Truthfully, we've been thinking of skipping out on it for years. With Harry, the thought became louder. And we owed a certain headmaster a favor…" Mrs. Davis trailed off.
Harry was impressed, Dumbledore's reach was truly far to extend into a family who was publicly leaning towards the other faction. He wondered what the favor was, but knew Mr. Davis would not tell him by his tone. They moved on to other subjects, like Mrs. Davis' shop on Diagon; a tea shop Harry had passed many times during the past summer.
Hours went by talking and laughing, they even pulled out a few magical games Harry had never seen before. Tracey began to stretch and yawn until she decided to retire for the evening. She bade everyone goodnight and went upstairs. Harry sunk into his chair, they were alone.
He saw his opportunity to ask some questions.
"Mr. Davis, Tracey has hinted that your alignment is not so simple. Dumbledore can call in favors, but you are involved with Lucius Malfoy?" Harry probed when Tracey had been gone for a few minutes.
Mr. and Mrs. Davis locked eyes and nodded.
Mr. Davis began, "My thinking is simple. Muggle-borns are not born in the wizarding world, which is fine. What is not fine is the automatic citizenship they gain in our world. The overwhelming amount, if not for the unfortunate and reprehensible politics of Malfoy's faction, would have considerable power in the Wizengamot and Ministry. Prejudice is unacceptable, but we do have a society, traditions, and a culture to maintain and uphold. Why not let their children have the votes, or at least make them apply for citizenship? Like every civilized muggle country in the world does."
"You don't represent this publicly," Harry stated with the implied question of why.
"I was fooled by you-know-who to start with. When their darker goals became clear, defecting to Dumbledore's side became impossible. Fudge ran as the Minister to bring our world back together after you-know-who's fall, but in practice, he mixes the worst of both sides. My stances on prejudice and creature rights are closer to the light faction, opposite Fudge's regime. My stance on muggle-borns is closer to the dark, again opposite Fudge's regime. I can only influence from the sides, or else my position in the Ministry could become tenuous. Fudge is an incompetent minister, but a very good and self-interested politician who doesn't mind stamping out dissent. There isn't enough room for a different shade of grey right now, not after the war radicalized both sides."
Harry recalled the Flourish and Blots bookstore, with the ministry approved content and carefully crafted historical narratives. Until now, he didn't have a clear picture of their biases. The Ministry only appeared to take the self-interested safe route. He wondered what Fudge would do when there wasn't such a route available. If Voldemort came back, would the ministry be prepared?
"Then, you want to oust Fudge using Dumbledore's help?" Harry asked.
"No. My dealings with the dark lead me to believe the Dark Lord took some precautions with his life. I refuse to place a target on me or my family," replied Mr. Davis.
"If you're worried about Dumbledore, don't be. He saved my life during the last war," Mrs. Davis supplied.
Harry looked down at his feet as he slouched forward. "I'm sorry. I'm creating trouble for you, aren't I?"
Mrs. Davis knelt in front of Harry and put her hand on his and looked into his eyes. "You aren't creating trouble, Harry. You're looking for somewhere to land. It's okay dear…"
"Tracey said you didn't want to take me in- so why-" Harry's eyes stung. "Dumbledore again?"
"No Harry. It's not Dumbledore," she answered softly.
"Then-"
"We do have some reservations beyond the circumstances at hand but… Lucius Malfoy has the minister convinced anyone who would take you in must be vying for power," Mr. Davis said as he clenched his jaw. "Your muggle relatives are protected by law against action from the Wizengamot. Meaning the findings of a special investigation, which Dumbledore and Lucius are blocking, could remove you from their care. Or a special request for custody to the Minister of Magic, which Lucius has sealed off," Mr. Davis explained.
"What about the muggle courts?" Harry asked.
Mr. Davis shook his head sadly. "They could take you out of custody, but you'd become a ward of the state. Muggles wouldn't recognize wizarding families, and who knows where you might end up? Probably to the family who jinxed the most muggle authorities on the sly. Plus, they might keep you in the custody of the state over term unless the ministry interfered. At the end of the day, you'd be in just as much jeopardy, the Wizengamot doesn't fully recognize muggle courts for this very reason."
Harry tried to think of a way out, but couldn't think of anything he could do. Was he going to be stuck with the Dursley's over the summer? He'd never abide by it. No matter what he had to do, he would never be stuck in that house again. He could run away again, but without magic, and his existence out in the open-
"Is there a way around the Trace? Do you know how they apply it?" Harry asked in a panic.
"The artifact which sends out Hogwarts letters creates an identification. It's like a taboo, with the conditions being magic done around that identification instead of a name being said," said Mrs. Davis without blinking.
"Honey! You can't be serious! Don't tell him that!" Mr. Davis exclaimed in shock.
"He's not going to find a way around it Robert!"
"Why doesn't it go off constantly in Wizarding homes?" asked Harry, breathing rapidly.
"In magical areas, the nearest adult is considered responsible automatically, it can be checked later though. In non-magical areas a person checks the conditions and sends out an owl if necessary," Mrs. Davis patiently explained to Harry as she rubbed the sides of his arms trying to calm him.
So, he could perform magic if he could get to a magical area. The first thought that came to mind was becoming an animagus, which might alter the ID. The spell was much too complicated and dangerous to attempt by the end of school. Apparition was specially monitored and while less difficult, was still dangerous, especially if he couldn't practice in a safe environment. These were both out of his reach for the time being. He would start the animagus research now, he decided. He calmed himself, there were ways out of his situation.
"Harry, why don't you go to bed? There's a guest bedroom upstairs in the hall, the closest door facing the stairs. The bathroom is on the far end of the hallway to your right," added Mrs. Davis.
"Thank you. Goodnight."
# # #
Harry was happier than he had ever been at the Davis' house. First, they celebrated Solstice with a huge feast the day after their arrival, Tracey's grandmother even came over. Harry was told to not bring up politics or Dumbledore under any circumstances within her earshot. It was an easy task, because she didn't even treat him like Harry Potter, but just another kid. It was helped by his offer to take her coat when she walked in the door.
She seemed like a kind old lady, if her manner of dress and jewelry weren't a bit gaudy and her manner a bit put on. Harry also noted she insulted the house-elves' cooking, except Mrs. Davis had put together the meal. Mr. Davis managed to steer the conversation the whole night without issue until she left.
An exhausted Mrs. Davis threw herself down on the couch in the sitting room. With her arm over her eyes, she took a deep breath out. Harry was reading a book he had collected from Mr. Davis's study in a chair opposite. Mr. Davis tiptoed in.
"Well that went well, don't you think Cecily dear?" he gently supplied.
"Your mother behaved herself Robert. I'm just tired."
He nodded and walked upstairs with a guilty expression.
# # #
The next day Harry and Tracey went out into Godric's Hollow together. When they got into town he noticed a memorial in the town center. Surrounded by snow, it was a statue of his parents with a baby in their laps. Him. He ran up to it and touched the smooth freezing-cold stone with his hand. Harry paused there, looking up at his parents' image.
"Let's go buy some flowers," Tracey said as she quietly approached. "There's a shop right over there. We can visit the graveyard."
"I don't know if-"
She grabbed his freezing cold hand and squeezed. "I know you want to go, come on Harry."
They went to a small storefront that sold flowers right off the town square. The smell and the warmth of the place reminded him slightly of his summers in the garden, at least the pleasant aspects… Harry went to pay for the flowers, but realized he had no muggle money.
"Your money is no good here Mr. Potter. Welcome home," said the old man shopkeeper happily.
"I can't let you give it to me for free, what's that in sickles?" Harry complained.
The old man pushed Harry's hand away. "You can pay full price next time Mr. Potter. You'll be back. But for your first visit, I refuse to take your money. I've made too much off of the memorial as it is Mr. Potter. I couldn't sleep at night if you gave me a single cent for your first visit."
# # #
Harry slumped in front of his parent's graves. They were simple headstones, small and well-tended but for the snow beginning to cover them completely. The smell of wet dirt filled Harry's nose. He wiped snow that had formed on top of the graves, tracing his fingers over the smoothly cut names of his parents. Tracey placed the flowers down for Harry as he stared blankly at the graves, wondering how he was supposed to feel.
"Am I supposed to feel better? I- I don't even remember them Trace. I've spent most of my life trying to block them out. Why do I feel obligated to come here? What good does it do?"
Tracey wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
"I don't know Harry. Honestly, I don't."
The snow fell lightly in the sunlit gray sky. Harry felt his face freeze and a slight shudder went through him. He glanced over at Tracey, who stared at the names of his parents sadly. Her light brown hair was speckled with halfway melted snow. She didn't notice his gaze.
Harry imagined what his parents would say about Tracey. Would they like her? Would they be prejudiced against her house? Harry played out the imagined argument in his head with his long-dead parents. They fought and fought, until his parents finally agreed to meet his friends, and they liked her. Then they would tease him relentlessly about his girlfriend. No- He meant, they would say she was his girlfriend, but he would- Harry looked over at Tracey. She really was very pretty, he liked it better when she had an impish grin on her face though. That proved it, they were friends.
"Let's go Trace," Harry said, as Tracey jumped slightly at the sudden noise.
# # #
The snow began to fall harder than ever as Harry and Tracey made their way back home. The sun just barely peeked over the horizon; the temperature dropped quickly. Harry raced at the last moment to get out of the freezing cold, leaving Tracey behind at the front of the house.
"HEY!" she yelled after him.
Harry laughed maniacally, he burst through the door and almost barreled into Mrs. Davis who had been standing at the front entrance before he could slam it in Tracey's face. Instead, he stopped short and was met by Tracey smacking into him from the back. He fell on his stomach, with Tracey on top of him and Mrs. David looking on unamused.
"Oww! Idiot! What are you doing?" Tracey jumped off of him and rubbed her hip which was likely bruised by the crash.
"I'm just messing about Tracey, that's what friends do," he insisted, refusing to groan from the hit to his back from Tracey's knee as he stood. "When did you get home Mrs. Davis?"
Mrs. Davis smiled with raised eyebrows and a knowing look. "Pulling pigtails Harry?"
"N-no, I'm just…" Shit. It wasn't like that. "Sorry, Tracey."
Tracey put her soft hands on Harry's forehead. "You okay Harry? You've been acting weird since we visited your parents."
"Oh! Is that what you've been up to? We were thinking about visiting later. Good thing you went with all of this snow," said Mrs. Davis.
"I'm soaked!" Tracey said, flicking some sleet off of her pants and jacket. "I'm going to go change." She ran up the stairs.
Mrs. Davis looked at Harry with arms crossed.
"Me too! Uhm… BYE, I mean, er… LATER," Harry stammered as he scrambled his way up the stairs. She was his friend! Okay, maybe he had been a little too immature there. Pulling pigtails? He wasn't picking on her because- well, it was a one-time occurrence!
# # #
The Davis's, to Harry's surprise, also celebrated Christmas. Christmas Eve had them going out to Diagon Alley for some shopping. It looked completely different in the cold and snow. String lights hung across the shops in the aisle, variations on Christmas trees sprung up around the Alley, and even temporary stands selling seasonal hot beverages. Harry felt he was seeing the Alley all over again.
"Let's split up," Mr. Davis suggested.
"I'll go with Harry," insisted Mrs. Davis, giving a pointed look to her husband.
"I'll help dad get you something nice mom." Tracey stuck her tongue out as she glommed onto her father. "Let's check out the broomsticks first!"
"Don't spend all your time checking out the speed enchantments!" Mrs. Davis yelled as Tracey practically sprinted off with her father slowly making his way behind her.
"Jeez, that girl. She's horrible to shop with you know." Mrs. Davis laughed. "Let's start with her. Any ideas?"
Harry ran his hand through his hair. He didn't have any clue. Everything she would like was way too expensive to give a friend. "Any suggestions?"
"Maybe something to do with what you get up to at Hogwarts?"
They mostly just bullshitted by the lake. Unfortunately, the cold had set in. Maybe he could give her something to warm up with? He also wanted to get Neville something good.
"Let's go look around," said Harry.
An hour later, Harry had done his shopping for his two friends. He thought about getting something for Susan, but Neville would probably be unhappy if he thought of Susan and not Hermione. And if he got for Hermione he'd have to get for Daphne. Better to keep it tight-knit for now.
For Neville, he got a biography of a famous Herbologist who explored jungles looking for new magical discoveries. He thought it sufficiently inspiring. For Tracey, he got a small patterned stone that gave off a feeling of warmth when touched. He was hesitant to get it, but Mrs. Davis insisted it was sweet. Harry packed both items away and then helped Mrs. Davis find something for Mr. Davis.
They walked into the fancy robe shop when Harry saw a familiar figure. It was Draco Malfoy. He was being measured by an attendant. The fancy dress shop looked like a slightly larger setup from the other place, with very high ceilings and a balcony, and shelves containing all sorts of unrecognizable materials in bundles. Behind Draco stood two figures with long blonde hair and dress robes. One was Lucius Malfoy, and the other must have been Draco's mother.
"You should have seen the cow at the other place. A disgrace, didn't know how to properly sew. I only want robes from here from now on," Draco drawled.
"We'll get some proper material customized into school robes for you Draco. It's only fitting. Attendant! What is taking so long! Do I have to send my son's measurements abroad?!"
The attendant scraped and bowed. "Sorry Lord Malfoy, all finished. I'll get some sample materials right over."
"Get going!" Lucius yelled at the attendant, and laughed as the man scrambled away. "It's important that your inferiors know where they stand Draco. If there is no fear, there is no authority."
Harry watched and heard all of this in amazement. He knew Draco was spoiled, but he may just be more spoiled than Dudley. The apple didn't fall far from the blonde tree either.
Lucius noticed Harry looking over at them. "Ah, Draco. If it isn't your classmate Harry Potter. And with this year's no-shows to the Solstice Party."
Harry stepped towards the Malfoy family without hesitation and a winning smile.
"Mr. Malfoy! A great pleasure it is to meet you. Draco talks about you all the time you know." Harry flashed a smirk. "Oh, and Mrs. Malfoy, forgive my poor manners." Harry bowed slightly.
"Hello Lucius, Narcissa," bowed Mrs. Davis.
Both parents returned the greeting unenthusiastically.
"Such a polite boy. It is a terrible shame you have to live with those muggles. Too bad," Mr. Malfoy slowly enunciated with an evil smile on his face.
Mrs. Davis flared her nostrils. "Well, it is good to see you, Lucius and family. I am going to go on the hunt for something proper for my husband." She went up to the balcony and began exploring the shelves.
"Something to say boy?" Lucius looked down his nose at Harry who remained in place.
Harry thought of the million rants he would make to this man. Warning the man of his poor decision to make an enemy like this, or perhaps putting down his focus on money as the end all be all. In the end, Harry decided to let it be. His contingency plan had already begun to take form, and it was stupid to possibly reveal it.
"Only to wish Draco a Happy Christmas Mr. Malfoy. I'm going off to do my own shopping now," he said.
# # #
Mrs. Davis exited the store with a wrapped bundle, Harry was waiting patiently outside.
"Harry, where did you run off to?" she asked.
"Nowhere, Mrs. Davis. Just wanted to get out of there with the Malfoy's and all," Harry said innocently.
She raised her eyebrows disbelievingly but kept silent.
# # #
Harry woke with a start in the soft embrace of the Davis's guest bed. He had never slept so comfortably, but his dream from the previous night was terrifying. He dreamed he was running through a forest and attacked a unicorn. The poor creature had let out a horrifying noise, and there was so much blood. Right before it died, he had snapped awake. The look in its eyes as it lay there, like it was judging him as a vile creature, burned into Harry's mind. In his dream though, he had enjoyed it.
He wiped the cold sweat off of his forehead and rubbed it. He could have sworn his scar ached a bit. If he wasn't convinced Dumbledore was hiding something about the nature of Harry's defeat of Voldemort as a baby, he might have dismissed it.
Suddenly Harry froze, it was Christmas! His first real Christmas where he could actually celebrate. The best gift he had ever gotten so far had been Uncle Vernon agreeing to take him to the library, and that didn't have a happy ending. He had presents from his friends! He had presents to give! And more importantly, he had a plan for this summer should he be forced back to his Aunt and Uncle's. He looked at the bedside clock, eight, later than he expected.
He walked out into the hallway and got to the bathroom door when he was attacked.
"Oh no you don't! Presents! Presents Harry! You can get ready after breakfast. Come on!" Tracey dragged him by the arm down the stairs and to the living room where there were stacks of presents under a tree that hadn't been there the day before.
Mr. and Mrs. Davis sat on a couch opposite the fire, slightly cuddled against each other and with mugs in their hands.
"You didn't wake him, did you Tracey?" Mr. Davis said taking a sip from his mug.
"No daddy! He was in the hallway. Of all the days to sleep in Potter!" Tracey pulled on his sleeve and made him sit down in a chair opposite the couch before she jumped into a pile of presents.
Harry was relieved to find the pile not half so large as Dudley's on Christmas. Tracey began picking through the pile and making separate piles by the feet of the recipient. She appeared in front of Harry with an armful and dumped it on his lap, he yelped in surprise.
"Who are all these from?" he exclaimed.
"We thought since you were spending Christmas with us, we should give you a little thing or two to open," Mrs. Davis said with a bright smile.
"Would you believe mom had me convinced some barmy old man gave presents to children? The other kids laughed at me when I told them. She used to write, 'From Santa' on the majority of presents. Who pulls a prank like that on a child?" Tracey said as she grabbed a present from further back behind the tree.
Harry laughed. "It's a muggle tradition Trace."
"Really? Weird… I thought they didn't believe in magic? How come you never told me that mom?" she asked.
"It's just a tradition from grandma Tracey, I only passed it on," said Mrs. Davis as she took a very large gulp of tea from her mug, blocking her face from view.
When all of the presents were settled, Tracey insisted everyone but her open presents first. Mrs. Davis got some nice cosmetic items, a beautiful enchanted necklace, and a pair of dragon-leather gloves. Mr. Davis got some new robes for professional use, a pair of boots, and an instant pond. (whatever that was)
"Let's open our presents to each other first," Harry squeaked nervously.
Tracey grabbed the box with Harry's gift in it from her pile and crouched over it.
"Y-you go first," said Tracey.
Harry sorted through what he had and found the package from Tracey. He carefully removed the wrapping and opened the box. Inside lay two leather-bound journals arranged side-by-side. Harry took both of them out and studied them carefully, flipping through the blank pages.
"They're charmed. Whatever you write in one will appear in the other, and then it will fade after a few weeks," said Tracey hesitantly, "I thought maybe you could give the other one to me or Neville or whoever. For when you're stuck in the common room. Or during the summers…"
Harry took his wand out and put it to one of the books with a wave. The cover shuddered until a word began to form on the blank leather. Tracey. He picked up the now engraved book, walked over to Tracey, and pushed it into her hands.
"It's yours," he said.
"It was pretty stupid to get you a present that benefits me as much as you, huh?" Tracey looked up from her crouching position.
"It's the best present I've ever gotten," said Harry as he bent down to give her a hug, it nearly knocked Tracey over.
*POOF*
Mr. Davis had gotten a camera somehow and took a picture. The wizard kind which had flashed in Harry's face and knocked him flat out of the floo at the Daily Prophet.
"DAD! WHAT THE HECK!?"
"We always take at least one picture," Mr. Davis insisted.
Tracey stammered incoherently at his response.
"Open mine," Harry encouraged.
"Fine! But put the camera away dad. Yeeesh!"
She opened the gift from him, Harry didn't know what to do, he stood there mutely. He felt foolish, but what if she wanted to hug him back? Going back to his seat now was awkward! So was this…
Tracey picked up the small stone curiously, her eyes widened as she did so. The stone lit up ruby red and the golden etchings shined around it in intricate circular patterns, much like Ptolemaic epicycles.
"It's warm," she whispered, holding the stone to her chest. A tinge of redness in her face was highlighted by the glow.
"Do you like it?"
"Oh yeah. It's for outside, right? Great idea Harry!" Tracey grinned widely and threw it in the pocket of her pajama pants.
Harry let out a breath at her reaction. He had palpable relief that she both liked it and didn't get weird about it. These last few days he had been out of sorts. His emotions over his parents and the possibility of a family at the Davis's had his head in a mess. He needed to re-center himself, Tracey wasn't being weird, so why should he?
Harry laughed and skipped back to his chair. "Now we can explore the grounds in the dead of winter without me having to apply a warming charm to you every couple of minutes or going crazy with the fire. I guess it's a present for me, so we're even!"
Tracey puffed out her cheeks and pouted.
They went back to opening their presents. Hagrid had given Harry a wooden flute, it looked hand-carved, he felt immensely touched. Hagrid was a simple man, but that simplicity produced a kindness and sincerity which moved even Harry.
Neville's present to him was a sneakoscope, which would whistle and spin when it detected untrustworthy behavior. For Harry, it may have been useless as the damn thing whistled before he could even unwrap it. He knew exactly why it might go off.
"Harry, could you please find some way to silence that? Either tell some dark truth or stuff it in your trunk under some clothes!" Tracey yelled over the high-pitched whistle.
Harry raced upstairs and stuffed it in his trunk, next to a small pouch and a large pack.