Detention was pleasant.

Erik wasn't particularly fond of the idea of a time out, but he supposed it could have been worse.

His first round of detentions were with Madam Pomfrey. He was told to go directly to the Hospital Wing every Monday after class. Every time he arrived, without fail, the motherly nurse would shove a bottle of the wizarding equivalent of multivitamins in his hand. She wouldn't leave him alone until he swallowed the foul tasting potions whole.

When that was done, she'd put him to work. This usually included ordering him around like a little errand boy. Erik would fix the hospital beds, sweep the floors, or alphabetize the medicine in the cabinets. Erik would ceaselessly grumble at this. He knew wizards could finish all this work with a basic spell, but apparently discipline was a necessity nowadays.

"No need to sulk, Mr. Dupont." Madam Pomfrey chuckled at him one day. "You need to build some muscle in your body, too."

Erik glared at her from the ground. During that particular detention, he had been tasked with wiping the whole wing's floor with a wet rag and soap. He was tired and sweaty from the menial labor. He'd been at it for most of the afternoon and most of his body was sore.

"Mopping charms exist, Madame Pomfrey." Erik all but whined. "Can't I do something more interesting like sorting potion ingredients or something?"

"Now why on earth would I let you do that? This is detention, Mr. Dupont. Not an internship."

"But it's so hot!"

"It would be colder if you got rid of that silly mask."

That shut Erik up. He shot one last glower at her amused face and continued scrubbing the ground.

Eventually, he did get to do more fun things. Erik was getting sick and tired of cleaning and alphabetizing. He'd been reading about healing magic for quite a while, scouring the library for any knowledge it possessed. He reckoned that he might as well be of real use to the matron.

"Madam!" He slammed the door open during his fifth detention, loudly announcing his presence to get her attention immediately. He was determined to finally convince her to let him actually do healing magic. "Don't you think- what's happening?"

He was confused -almost startled- when he saw several higher years in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was approaching them one by one and writing their symptoms in a piece of parchment.

Erik wasn't very used to having other people in the Hospital Wing besides him and Madam Pomfrey. He was only there once a week and for only about two hours or so. He watched, fascinated, as the nurse swished her wand to diagnose whatever bug the group caught.

"Good afternoon to you, too." She rolled her eyes at him. "These fourth years contracted mild cases of fever."

"Really?" He felt slightly guilty for getting excited at their illness. "I can help."

"Nonsense," she said dismissively.

"No, I can!" Erik insisted, running inside and throwing his book bag unceremoniously to the ground. He ran to the storage closet, his long legs getting him there very quickly, and rummaged through the drawers. He looked at the clear bottles' contents and gave a satisfied sound when he found what he was looking for.

He brought out several vials containing red liquid and gathered them in his arms. Running to Madam Pomfrey's side, he gave her a smug grin and proudly showed her his findings.

"Look," he said excitedly. "Pepperup Potions! They help with common colds."

Madam Pomfrey and the higher years blinked at him. Erik stood his ground, carefully making sure the potions didn't spill from his arms.

Madame Pomfrey just sighed, however, and then nodded at him. "Very well." She double checked her notes. With a swish and turn of her wand, she summoned a floating tray and gestured for Erik to place the potions on top of it. "Give each of them a bottle and no more than that. Write their names and year in this chart before you let them leave." She handed him a wooden board with parchment lying on top of it as well as a quill.

"Yes, Madam." Erik immediately turned away and walked to the higher years.

They were mostly Slytherins, with a few Hufflepuffs in between. Erik cautiously approached their feverish forms as he handed them their Pepperup potions. He mechanically asked their names and year and wrote it all down studiously. He didn't really pay attention to the actual person, really. Just the process.

One of them stood out, though.

"Rana Zarin," she said haughtily. Erik raised a brow and wrote her name on the parchment. "Fourth year Slytherin." He handed her the potion with disinterest. Erik was just about ready to finish his rounds until the girl spoke again.

"Hey, kid!" Rana called out. Erik turned to face her with a glare. "You're the masked genius, right?"

"I don't like being called that." He frowned. He didn't like that he was remembered for the mask that hid his deformity. "I'm not even doing much with my grades. I just like reading."

"Oh! So you're humble, too." She grinned wickedly. "Very charming. I like you. You can call me Rana.

"Okay..." He looked at them weirdly. "My name is Erik."

"I'll cut to the chase, Erik." Rana looked at him up and down. "I'm very interested in your skills."

Erik didn't know where she was going with this. "Thanks, I guess." He shrugged awkwardly.

"I want us to help each other out."

"How?" Erik was curious. She was very pretty, her looks reminding him of Nadir very vaguely. He reckoned they both came from Iran or at least a neighboring country.

Rana smiled. "I heard you like learning new things and you're a quick study. Is that right?"

"I guess so." Erik narrowed his eyes.

"Great!" She clasped her hands together excitedly. "I'm interested in helping you- ah, obtain more knowledge."

"How are you going to do that?"

"I come from a very rich and old pureblood family from the east," she said. "Our libraries and connections have books that aren't even available in Britain. I have books that Hogwarts won't even put in their Restricted Section." Erik's ears perked at that. "Are you interested, Erik?"

Erik thought about it. "So you'd let me have unlimited access to your family's library in exchange for… what, exactly?"

"Nothing too big, really." She shrugged carelessly. "Maybe sometimes I'll ask you to learn particular spells and then use them for me. Nothing more than that, really."

Alarm bells rang in Erik's head. The word 'suspicious' couldn't have been clearer even if it was written on her forehead. "I see," he said slowly.

"I'm in no rush, Erik." She waved her hand dismissively. "It's not like the books are going to walk away and leave. You can have all the knowledge in the world at your fingertips. I don't know about you, but that kind of access mixed with your magic would be beyond powerful."

"I'll think about it," Erik vaguely agreed.

"Good!" She hopped off the bed and shot him one last look. "See you, Erik! I'll hear from you soon."

Erik watched her leave. A strange feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't exactly describe it.

"Mr. Dupont?" Erik jumped at the sudden voice from behind. "You look like you just saw a ghost."

"Sorry," he muttered.

"It's alright." She grabbed the parchment from his hand and read its contents. "I think you did pretty well today. Maybe I'll let you help around more. You could start by telling me about all the healing magic you know. That's a good start, right?"

Erik smiled at that. "Right."

"You aren't going home?"

"No."

"Oh. Right. Crappy home life and all." Nadir awkwardly shifted his luggage bag. "I guess I'll send your Christmas gift here."

"What?"

"Christmas gift." Nadir blinked. "Don't you celebrate? My family's Muslim, but we enjoy the holiday a lot."

"You don't have to give me a gift," Erik said gruffly. "I don't know how I'd give you one in return."

"I don't care about that." Nadir shrugged. "I like Christmas and I like giving gifts. Especially to people I know are grinches." Nadir looked at him pointedly.

"You don't have to get me a gift, Daroga. I'm perfectly capable of getting anything I want."

"No one's ever given you a gift before, huh?"

Erik looked at him incredulously. "Could you say that any louder? It's almost as if you want everyone in Hogwarts to hear."

"Sarcasm isn't a good look on you, Erik."

"Don't get me anything for Christmas."

"Can't hear you, Erik!" Nadir snickered and turned the other way. He sent him one final farewell wave before walking towards the other first years who were waiting for the train.

Erik watched from a distance. When Professor Flitwick told them that going home for the holidays was optional, he sagged with relief and was, for the first time in his life, excited for the Christmas season.

As one can expect, Christmas wasn't a happy or enjoyable occasion in the Dupont household. All that happened was that his mother would complain about the cold while Erik stared at the colorful lights from outside their windows. Erik was sure that he wouldn't even know what that holiday was if his neighborhood wasn't so extravagant with decorations.

This year, Erik wanted to treat himself a little. He would read books, laze around, and perhaps play a few Christmas pieces on his violin for the sake of it. Maybe there would be hot chocolate on the Ravenclaw table every morning. He could grab a cuppa and walk around the snowy grounds if he felt like it.

"Erik?"

He was disrupted from his reverie when a familiar and very lovely voice called him from behind. Already feeling much better, he turned to greet her.

"Christine," he said fondly.

"Why don't you have your things? The train's leaving in a few minutes." She tilted her head to the side.

He shrugged. "Not going home."

"Oh," she murmured. "Are you parents away?"

"You could say that." Erik gestured vaguely.

"Well, I'd invite you to our place, but we're living with Professor Valerius." She looked downwards and lightly kicked an invisible rock on the ground. "Dad couldn't pay rent for a while so he had to move in with a friend."

Erik didn't know how to respond to that. "Sorry," was all he could say.

"Don't be. It's not your fault." She smiled sadly. "Orchestras aren't really looking to hire a lot of violinists nowadays."

"You'll be on your feet soon." Erik felt the melancholy washing off her like waves. He didn't like it. "If you say your dad's a great violinist, then I know he'll get first chair at some swanky concert hall eventually."

"Thanks, Erik. I knew you'd understand." She played with the ends of her blonde hair. "Raoul says my dad should take up a few classes and get another job. He says it's more realistic."

"Raoul's an idiot," he said mildly. "You shouldn't always listen to his opinions. It'll rot your brain."

She giggled. "I think he's just trying to help in his own way."

"He can help himself to-"

"Christine! The train's leaving!" As if summoned, Raoul bounded towards them with both of their luggage in his hands. "We gotta go or else they'll leave us behind."

Christine sighed and looked at Erik. "I'll see you in January, Erik. I'll send you your gift on Christmas day, though! I know you'll love it."

Erik was startled at that. "Christine, you don't have to get me anything."

"I want to," she said as if it were obvious.

"I don't know what to give you." Erik looked at her hopelessly.

"A nice greeting through the mail would be nice." She winked. "Maybe you could send some chocolate from the kitchens!"

"The kitchens?"

"Oh- forget I said that! Hufflepuff secret. Anyway, I'm just kidding. You don't have to send me a gift or anything. As long as I know you ate a big Christmas dinner, I'm happy."

"Are you guys done yet?" Raoul impatiently glanced at his expensive gold watch. "The train's leaving."

Christine rolled her eyes. "Yes, Raoul. We can go." She spared Erik one last look. "Bye, Erik. I'll miss you! Be sure to write, okay? Oh- thanks for making Raoul carry my stuff." She hid a laugh behind her hand. "I wanted to give him a hard time so I made my luggage extra heavy." She huffed. "No one can tell my dad to get a real job without feeling the wrath of Christine Daae!"

"I can hear you," Raoul said next to her.

Christine sweetly patted his arm. "I know."

"Don't be so snippy, Raoul." Erik towered over the other boy. "I might just make you do all my homework while you're away."

"Shove it, Dupont!" Raoul angrily glared at him.

Erik shrugged. "You're my servant and I plan on taking advantage of that."

"You're such a wanker," he said acidly.

Erik outright laughed at that. "I'll miss you, too." He pointed at the door. "Now scram, both of you. As my little servant boy said, the train is leaving. Shoo. I'll see you next month."

Christine excitedly waved goodbye as she ran outside with Raoul in tow. Erik weakly waved back, only then realizing that he'd be spending three weeks without her.

Erik was groaning.

"I want to go," he said.

"Not until I say you can, Mr. Dupont."

"This sucks," he said with a dramatic moan. Erik was sitting down in an empty classroom, his head heavily resting on the desk in front of him. His eyes were shut tight and his arms were limp at his sides. "This really sucks!"

"You whine like a baby." Professor McGonagall tutted. "Continue your lines, Mr. Dupont."

"I don't want to," he said snarkily. "Can't I clean out a smelly cauldron instead? Raoul gets to!"

"This is your detention, Mr. Dupont. Not his."

"But why aren't we being punished the same way? We both broke the same rules."

"His handwriting isn't horrible." Professor McGonagall waved two different essays in front of his face, emphasizing her point. Raoul's penmanship was neat and small. It looked very well practiced and Erik could only grunt in agreement. The other essay was Erik's and it was… less pretty. "Your writing is worse than chicken scratch. I've had many professors complain about it for the past few months and I have finally decided to rectify these matters."

"My essays are good, though!" Erik insisted. "The content is right and heavily researched. Isn't that enough?"

"Not when no one can actually read it." She scoffed. "Go write out your letters like a good boy so that we can move on from this sooner."

"I'm not a child," Erik said. "I don't want to trace the alphabet."

"Oh, but you will." Professor McGonagall smiled at him and it wasn't kind. "When I am satisfied with your penmanship, you will be rewriting all the illegible essays you've submitted this year."

"That's going to take forever." Erik could scarcely stop his mouth from dropping. He was so hopelessly bored. His penmanship never bothered him since he used to be the only one who read it. No one had really taken the time to fine tune that particular motor skill, but it was Erik's conscious decision to keep it that way. Now he was mostly complaining out of spite because his handwriting couldn't be that bad. He thought that Professor McGonagall was just being picky. "Essays are the only kind of homework the teachers at Hogwarts give and they hand them out like candy."

"That's a you problem, Mr. Dupont." She raised an eyebrow down at him. "I'm only here to dole out your much deserved punishment."

"I must be special then," Erik muttered saractically, "to have the Deputy Headmistress personally supervise my detention."

Professor McGonagall hummed, almost ignoring his ire. "If that bratty attitude of yours persists," she said carelessly, "I will make you write Christmas cards to everyone you know. And believe me, it will be sappy and personal."

Erik darkly grumbled his displeasure, quietly this time, and returned to the simple sentences and letters he was being forced to copy. "Christmas is stupid. It's so sentimental. I don't know why people are so excited about it."

Professor McGonagall looked up at that. "You don't celebrate?"

"No." Erik snorted. "My mother was Catholic, but Christmas didn't really happen for us back at home."

"I see," she responded with distaste.

"Gift giving is my main problem with it," Erik continued. He didn't want to trace words for another hour so he supposed this conversation would have to do. "Giving gifts is hard. What if your gifts aren't enough? Or the person you're giving it to doesn't like it?" Erik pinched the bridge of his mask's nose in irritation. "Receiving a gift is terrible, too. How am I supposed to react to that? I wouldn't even want a gift, but my friends insist on it. What can they give me that I can't buy or give myself? What a nightmare," he said grouchily.

Professor McGonagall regarded him carefully. "Have you ever received a gift before?"

Erik glanced at her incredulously. "You know," he said, "you're the second person to ask me that."

"Well, have you?"

"No," he snapped. "It doesn't even matter."

"It does," she responded quietly. "Well, there's not much we can do about that now. What are you getting your friends for Christmas? I'm assuming you will. Especially to the blonde girl..."

"Her name's Christine and yes, I'm obviously getting her something." Erik pushed away the quill and parchment on his desk. "Also Nadir. He'd nag for the rest of the year if I didn't." He frowned, deep in thought. "I still don't know what to get them. There aren't exactly many stores here for me to shop in."

Professor McGonagall considered what he said. "Since first years aren't allowed in Hogsmeade, how about you make something? Or order a gift through owl. I believe I have some catalogues in my personal chambers. I'd be more than happy to lend them to you."

"I-" Erik stuttered, grateful. He had been thinking about this for a while and with Christmas creeping up on him with a surprising speed, he was getting a little more desperate for a solution. "Thanks," he said. "I'd like that. Although-" he stopped, turning away and he could practically feel himself blush.

"Yes, Mr. Dupont?"

"It's dumb," he said quietly.

"I've taught children for decades, Mr. Dupont." She rolled her eyes. "Nothing you could say will ever be dumber than the things I've had to deal with here."

"Oh, er-" he floundered. "I was having a hard time with something."

"What is it?" Erik muttered something very quickly under his breath and Professor McGonagall had to strain her ears to even know he was speaking. "You'd have to speak louder if you want my help."

"I don't know what to give a girl," he said shyly.

Professor McGonagall blinked and had to stifle a laugh that was threatening to overtake her otherwise professional self. "I see," she choked out. "Is this for the Christine girl?"

"Yeah," he said as he averted his gaze from Professor McGonagall's amused stare. "I think I have an idea for what to give Nadir, but not for Christine."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and ignored the fondness rallying in her chest. "Well, what does she like?"

"Violin, her home country, and candy." His answer was immediate and prepared.

"Don't you play the violin, Mr. Dupont?" Her eyebrows knitted together.

Erik nodded. "Yes. My violin is in my dormitory."

"Well… why don't you play her a piece? I'm sure she'd be swooning at your feet if she heard you play."

"I don't know," he said. "She says her father's brilliant. What if I'm not as good as him? Wouldn't she be disappointed?"

"Nonsense! It's the thought that counts. She's a kind girl, Mr. Dupont. She'd appreciate the gesture."

"I guess so..." Erik trailed off. "But what would I play? There's so many to choose from!"

"Does she have a favorite composer?"

"Tchaikovsky and Mozart," he said. "But they've written hundreds of beautiful music. How could I choose?"

"Perhaps you could find a Christmas song by them that she'd like?"

"But it has to be perfect!" Erik insisted. "Wait- I know!" His eyes brightened considerably and Erik was sure those golden eyes were glowing. He stood from the study table and began pacing wildly like a tiger stuck in a cage. He was looking at the ground as he thought and the tips of his fingers were on his chin and lips.

"What is it?" Professor McGonagall curiously inquired.

"I'll compose her a violin solo myself!" He gestured wildly. "I can make it perfect and designed for her! Yes, I can do that. She won't even have the choice to hate it because I'll create it specifically for her tastes."

"You can compose violin pieces?" Professor McGonagall blinked at him, feeling a little behind.

"Well, of course." Erik glanced at her weirdly. "Can't everyone?"

"Now you're just rubbing it in," she said with an eye roll.

Erik ignored her and went back to his study table. He brought out fresh parchment, dipped his quill in the black ink bottle in front of him, and feverishly began to draw several staffs. Erik was hardly breathing as he filled out the pages. His eyes never left the paper, but his mind was far away from the classroom.

"Don't you need a violin?" Professor McGonagall wondered out loud.

Erik quickly looked up from his task to snort at her. "Of course not." He pointed at his head. "I can hear the music wherever I go. Always. It never leaves me until I play." He closed his eyes briefly, almost savoring the loudness that was only present in his mind. "Music will always just be… there. Waiting. It's so beautiful, almost painful." He smiled a little to himself. "I think I'd rather die than never be able to hear it again."

Professor McGonagall had no answer to that, and it seemed like Erik didn't need one. He looked back at the parchment and began scribbling notes on the first few bars.

The two were quiet then, with only Professor McGonagall's breathing and Erik's frenzied -almost frantic- writing.

To my dearest and most beloved Erik,

Erik snorted at that and was sorely tempted to throw the letter into the fireplace.

How are you this fine Christmas morning, you nasty grinch?

Erik grinned. That was more like it.

Before you ask, I'm doing great. My parents cooked my favorites this Christmas and I'm stuffed. I'll try bringing you some traditional Iranian food when I get back. I think you'd like them. Speaking of eating, you better follow your diet even when I'm not around to nag you about it. And your vitamins! You know, I'm still in hot water with Madam Pomfrey for not bringing you to your first check ups. So. Just be good without me, okay? Health is wealth!

My parents got me some wicked comic books. Do you read those? I don't think you do since you're a pretentious twat, but I'll tell you all about them when I get back. They got my sisters some barbie dolls so I've been playing with them, too. Action figures and dolls make for a really… interesting play date. It's fun, at least. I could have gotten a cool flip phone but Hogwarts doesn't allow electronics. (You're a genius, right? Can't you find a way around that?)

Anyway, I hope you like my gift. It took me a while to figure out what to get you, but I think it's alright!

Your most handsome friend,

Nadir Khan

Erik read the letter once. And then again. And then one last time for the hell of it.

He was alone in his room, on top of his four poster bed, while his roommate Remmy had gone home for the holidays. Ayesha was lazing on top of his work desk, watching him admire the few presents that surrounded him. It was Christmas eve and Erik had the large arching windows open. He enjoyed the cool air from the outside. It wasn't snowing that night, but he could still see white covering the grounds.

Erik liked Nadir's letter. It was so very… him. He was glad that he was alone because a very stupid smile was threatening to appear on his unmasked face.

The messily wrapped box was in his hand. It was rather heavy and large, but not too much. Erik carefully removed the themed paper. He ensured he wouldn't ruin it with an accidental cut or tear. When he was done, he saw the contents and finally allowed himself a small smile.

It was a book on old Persian architecture. It was hardbound and very colorful. Erik skimmed through the pages and saw that it was filled with blueprints and pictures along with heavy amounts of written facts and details.

He liked it.

He liked it a lot.

Erik never got a gift before.

He was glad his first came from Nadir.

With a gentleness he usually reserved for his violin, he placed the book to his side on the bed. He'll finish reading it before the break ends.

Next, he excitedly grabbed the parcel Christine sent. He had never been this excited opening something before. He didn't really know what to expect from it, especially when Nadir's owl Marcus dropped both parcels on his lap the morning before. He assumed Christine asked to use his owl because she didn't own one.

There was a letter attached to a small and slim box. Erik unfolded it carefully. He didn't want it to crease.

Dear Erik,

Erik didn't bother suppressing a would-be blush.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Erik traced the large and enthusiastic greeting with his fingertip. He could almost see Chrisitne write it with an unironic vigor reserved for this particular holiday. Her hair was probably tied up in a loose ponytail yet still wild and fluffy. Her cherubic face would be scrunched up in concentration. Perhaps she'd pause every once in a while, debating what to say and how to say it.

Since this is our first Christmas sort-of together, I made sure to get you something extra special and from the heart! Daddy and I went shopping, but I couldn't find anything that I think you'd like. Daddy says you'd be okay with anything, but he doesn't understand how picky you are no matter how many times I tell him.

Erik rolled his eyes. Did his friends really think he was that big of a snob?

I dragged him all around the shopping district until he told me that I should just make something for you. I loved the idea! It's just that I'm not very good at arts and crafts… but I think I'm good with music!

So tada! You can open my gift now. My dad helped a lot, especially with the notation. I know that you'll love it. If not, I will kick you in the shins the next time I see you.

Erik let out a bark of surprised laughter.

Merry Christmas again, Erik. I'm so happy that I met you :)

Your friend,

Christine Daae

P.S. I got some catnip for your cat, too. Even if she doesn't really like me :(

Erik snorted and narrowed his eyes at Ayesha who returned his glare just as easily. With a huff, Erik looked away first. It sometimes disturbed him that he and his cat had almost the same golden eyes.

The parcel attached to her letter was slimmer than Nadir's. It was small, barely covering the surface of Erik's hand. The wrapping was much more careful, too. Erik would have admired it more if not for the large number of Santa Clauses printed on the bright red paper.

He unwrapped it quickly, eager to see the inside. He made sure not to rip apart the paper, though.

The inside of the present was a notebook and a small plastic baggie with catnip inside. He placed the treats away for later and grabbed the notebook.

The notebook's exterior was simple. Although tiny, Erik appreciated the barely clear cover made of what he assumed was thick plastic. It made it look elegant, at least. There weren't many pages. The notebook wasn't the thick and leather-bound journals Erik used, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

The inside, however, made him melt.

Christine's writing filled the pages to the brim. Musical staffs as well as notes and lyrics covered it from top to bottom. Her penmanship was neat and tiny, making Erik enjoy reading through the music all the more.

The first page said-

Erik's Introduction to Traditional Swedish Folk Songs (Violin Edition)

Transcribed by Gustave and Christine Daae

-and Erik felt like he could pass out then and there.

He jumped out of his bed to grab his violin which was just by his closet. He ran as fast as his legs could take him. He quickly unstrapped the instrument and the bow. With an ease afforded by years of practice, he placed the violin beneath his chin and the boy on his right hand.

Breathlessly, Erik played several bars. The melodies were lovely. They were traditional, so Erik wasn't surprised at how Scandinavian they sounded. As he sightread, Erik couldn't help but imagine Christine dancing and singing next to him as he played tunes from her home country. She'd look so beautiful, her golden hair happily swaying as she moved to the music.

Perhaps he could finally convince her to sing if he played her favorite song from the notebook.

"Mr. Dupont?"

Erik turned and saw Professor McGonagall approach him from behind.

"Good morning, ma'am."

"You're up early."

"I always am."

"Why aren't you wearing more layers? It's freezing."

"I don't get cold easily."

She sighed and, with a swish of her wand, a thick wooly sweater appeared beneath his cloak.

"You should take care of yourself better."

"I take care of myself."

"We had to force feed vitamins down your throat."

"You're exaggerating."

"Am I?" Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows.

"Merry Christmas, Professor." He changed the subject.

"You're about a week and a half late, Mr. Dupont."

"Does the date really matter?"

"Merry Christmas, then." She paused. "I got your gift. Thank you."

"Oh," he said. "You're welcome. It's not that big."

"A ball of yarn," she said with a smile. "Very apt and charming. I'm sorry I didn't get you anything."

"I don't really like getting gifts." He shrugged. "And it's alright. In my old elementary school, I remembered the kids giving teachers things for Christmas. Their parents were suck-ups, I guess."

"Are you a suck-up, Mr. Dupont?"

He blinked and slowly shook his head, as though he had to think about the answer. "No," he said firmly. "Nadir says you give presents to people you like or the people that are important to you."

"I'm glad I fit into one of those categories."

He shifted nervously on his feet. "You and Madam Pomfrey look out for me. It's nice."

"It's our job, Mr. Dupont."

"You sure know how to make it sound romantic, huh?" He rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter. I appreciate it. I got Madam Pomfrey colorful muggle bandaids, too."

She smiled. "I'm sure she liked it."

"I guess so," Erik said. "She mentioned liking it as a joke once. Magic makes bandaids useless, so it was mainly a gag gift."

"She'll appreciate the thought."

Snow was falling from the early morning sky. Professor McGonagall shivered, but Erik looked up and closed his eyes. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

"I wasn't allowed out of the house before," he said softly. "I've never actually touched snow. I could only see it from the window."

"I knew another child with a similar childhood," she said distantly. "I regret not doing anything for him up until today."

"It was for medical reasons." He lied easily. "Can't do anything about it."

"Just you wait, Mr. Dupont."

"I wish I gave Nadir and Christine something else." He changed the topic. "Their gifts to me were very nice."

"What did you get them?"

"I got Nadir the first Sherlock novel because he's very nosy. Like a detective." He smiled a little. "I got Christine red gloves to match the scarf her mother gave her before she died."

"Those are thoughtful gifts," she assured.

"It could have been better," he muttered.

"It could have been better."

"I thought you were composing her a song?"

"Nothing was good enough."

"That can't be right."

"I tried," he said desperately. "I really did. I kept stopping after three bars because they were never enough for her."

"Walk with me." She placed her hand on the small of his back. They trailed the paths around the Hogwarts grounds, lazily circling the Great Lake in a peaceful silence. The view of the castle, brightened by the morning sunrise, was a beautiful sight to behold.

Erik looked at the castle as they walked. He was feeling overwhelmed suddenly. A heaviness settled on his chest and he felt tears itching in his eyes. He sniffed, feeling the cold much more than he did a moment ago.

"I wish- I wish-" to belong? To be normal? To be enough? To never have rumors following you everywhere? To be like everyone else? To never be pitied, to never have awful expectations about you? To just be a student at Hogwarts without caring about how people look at you? Erik's lower lip quivered

"Mr. Dupont?"

"I wish classes didn't have to resume tomorrow," he said instead.

Erik shrugged and continued walking with his head down. Professor McGonagall gently circled patterns on his back.

"Why are we doing our essays outside?" Christine tilted her head. "It's kind of windy. Won't our papers fly away?"

Erik hopped down the last few steps from Ravenclaw tower with his book bag and his violin case in his arms. "Because," he said. "You're going to sing."

Christine turned to look at him, her eyes finally settling on the instrument he held tightly to his frame. "I am?"

"You are."

"I dunno, Erik..." She nibbled her lower lip. "I don't sing unless papa's with me."

"I can play the violin, too!" Erik insisted and marched off. Christine groaned, knowing she couldn't stop him when he was in this kind of mood.

He led them to the grounds. The sun was shining, but fluffy clouds were covering most of the sky. After several minutes, with Erik walking quickly and Christine practically having to jog to keep up, the two reached a large tree. They settled beneath its shade and sat down near the big trunk. "What kind of song do you like singing?"

"Uh-" Christine shifted nervously. "Choir songs, I guess. I used to be in one. Folk songs, some arias from a few operas."

"I was going to ask you to sing a Swedish folk song, but I didn't know you liked opera and choir." Erik unzipped his violin case and brought out his instrument swiftly.

"My dad's pretty old fashioned." She shrugged. "I don't mind. I think they're pretty."

"What's your favorite?"

Christine looked up in thought. "I couldn't stop listening to Gardiner's Evening Hymn during break. Do you know it?"

Erik answered by grinning as he played the first few bars of the organ arrangement on his violin. Christine sighed dreamily at his wonderful playing. "I snuck into a concert once," he said offhandedly.

"Did you get caught?"

He looked at her pointedly.

Christine giggled. "Of course not," she answered herself.

"Ready?" He placed the end of his bow on the string.

"Yes." She straightened and took a deep breath.

Erik closed his eyes and played the introduction, excited to hear what Christine sounded like.

He didn't know what to expect.

Christine was wonderful, but she'd never mentioned her singing much.

Erik never really thought much about it, honestly. At this point, he was just curious.

He'd think her lovely regardless of what she'd sound like.

In fact, Erik could teach-

"Te lucis ante terminum"

Erik could-

"Rerum Creator poscimus"

He-

"Ut pro tua clementia"

He could…

"Sis praesul et custodia!"

Slowly, almost afraid, Erik opened his eyes.

There were little traces of warm sunlight from the spaces between the tree leaves on Christine's face, although her own eyes were shut tight and her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. She was very softly humming along Erik's playing, making sure her timing for the next verse was right.

But Erik slowed down the accompaniment until he wasn't even playing anymore. He was staring at Christine and she blinked her eyes open. She looked at him questioningly, obviously put off at his sudden stop.

"What's wrong?" She fidgeted nervously. "Did I go off key? I do that when I'm nervous..." She trailed off when Erik didn't answer immediately.

"You..."

"I'm sorry." She groaned with a redness in her cheeks. She hunched, concealing her face with her hands, and sighed deeply. "It's been weeks since I last sang with daddy. I know I'm rusty. Sorry, Erik. I thought your violin skills would make up for it," she joked weakly.

"Do you really think that?"

"Huh?"

"Did you really think you sounded horrible?"

"I wouldn't say horrible," she muttered. "But nowhere near good."

"Christine," he began softly. "If I heard you sing in a cathedral, I would think an angel dropped from the sky to let me taste heaven."

She laughed at that. "C'mon, Erik."

He wasn't listening to her. "If I heard you busking on the street, I would give you all my life savings for the chance to hear you sing a G Major Scale."

"I'd think you're crazy." She snorted and crossed her arms.

"If I heard you sing in an opera house," he said. "I would pick all the flowers in the world to throw at your feet."

"You really know how to flatter someone, Erik."

His head hurt a little and his heart ached just a little more. He always thought there wasn't a god out there, but Christine… he knew Christine was an angel made from the bright and pure things he would never be allowed to touch.

"Don't you like it when I compliment you?"

"Don't get me wrong, they're nice." She shrugged half-heartedly. "It's just kinda embarrassing, especially when all you're saying are exaggerations."

Hah. She thought he was exaggerating.

"If that's the case," he said. "Then I think there are some parts you should work on."

Christine glanced up at that. "Really?"

Erik nodded. "Really."

"Well." Christine poked him in the arm with a grin. "Aren't you going to teach me?"

"Your grades have been dropping, Mr. Dupont."

"I know."

"May I ask why?"

Erik shrugged. "It got boring."

"That isn't a very good reason."

"I don't want to lie to you, sir."

Professor Flitwick crossed his arms. "The other teachers tell me you haven't passed any of your homework for more than a month. This is very unlike you."

"I've been doing other things."

"What on earth could possibly stop you from doing any of your schoolwork?"

Erik grunted irritably. "I've been composing."

"Composing?"

"Composing." Erik nodded once. "Arias, chorale arrangements… anything I find more interesting than a two foot essay, honestly."

"And that's more important than your grades?"

"Yes," he answered immediately. He didn't even breathe to think about it.

"As much as I admire you pursuing creative passions, I'm afraid you'll have to juggle that with your homework, too."

"Why?"

"Because you're a student, Mr. Dupont. You should be learning magic, not musical notations."

"I already know everything the teachers are giving us," Erik insisted. "My practical work has been better than anyone else in our year."

"Be that as it may, you still need to learn how to be responsible."

"I don't understand." Erik grit his teeth.

"You have duties you must attend to. If a teacher gives you an assignment, you do it to the best of your capabilities."

Erik wasn't sure how he felt about a man a third of his height lecturing him about the importance of writing an essay. "But Professor-"

"Ah, Mr. Dupont. You're a Ravenclaw, yes?"

"Yes, sir." He deflated.

"As a Ravenclaw, there are many expectations on your shoulders. One of those being responsible enough to pass homework when it's due."

He didn't really want to argue about this anymore. "Yes, sir."

"Since it's currently the weekend before exams, you don't have any other choice but pray that you perfect all your tests."

"I will, sir."

"And submit all the homework you've missed."

"But that's two months worth!"

"You'll find that that's a problem entirely caused by you." Professor Flitwick sighed. "You may ask your Professors if they'd be willing to give you something else to make up for it, but that's up to their discretion. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir." Erik pursed his lips, but it looked more like a pout than anything else.

Professor Flitwick bid him farewell and Erik was dismissed from his office.

When Erik reached his bed, he took a deep breath and flung himself on top of the covers.

He'd worry about it tomorrow.

"Can't believe I'm friends with a nerd!"

Erik glared at him. "Stop calling me that."

"Okay, Mr. Boy Genius! Still- all O's? I barely got an A in Transfiguration!"

"Maybe if you actually read something other than a sports magazine, you'd actually learn something useful."

"It's alright, Nadir. Erik's just being humble in his own way." Christine smiled sheepishly. "I stayed up all night reviewing for Potions and I still got an A."

"I'll tutor you next time, Christine. I promise I don't even know why you didn't even ask me to."

"You were so busy!" She insisted. "We all saw you cramming so many essays. I'd feel like a jerk."

"I'd always make time for you."

Nadir made gagging noises. "Sheesh, keep it in your pants! It's like a cheap romance novel in here."

Christine lightly smacked his arm. "Don't be-"

The door of their train cabin slid open with a loud bang. Raoul walked in, a glare resting on his face, as he held a large amount of candy and sweets in his arms.

"Ah!" Erik clasped his hands together. "My errand boy is back!"

"Shut up." Raoul angrily threw the food on Nadir's lap before taking a seat next to Christine. "Once this train stops, I'm not your maid anymore."

"Don't worry about it, Raoul." Erik bit into a chocolate frog. "Second years can play Quidditch. We can have more bets."

"Yeah, but this time I'll win!"

Erik rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say."

"So what are you guys doing this summer?" Nadir finished his second helping of treacle tart as he asked.

"Papa and I are going to mostly be at Professor Valerius' house." Christine licked a lollipop in the shape of a wand. "The Professor is sort of sick, so we'll be helping him and his wife a lot. They live right by a hiking trail, though! So we might walk around there since it's really pretty."

"At least you're going someplace cold," Nadir grumbled. "We're visiting family in Iran. I love it there, but it's so hot! I'm going to miss Scottish weather." He sighed wistfully.

"Philippe's dragging me to France again. I don't mind, but it's so boring and stuffy. Our estate is so old fashioned, too! It makes me feel like I'm in a period drama. I even have to listen to my family whine about how I didn't go to Beauxbatons."

"I feel so sorry for you," Erik retorted sarcastically. "A pretty boy in a big French countryside manor and a family who wants him to be closer… What a tragedy!"

Raoul threw an empty candy wrapper in Erik's direction, but it sank halfway. "I told you to shut up." He crossed his arms and glared at Erik. "At least I'm contributing to the conversation. What are you doing for your summer anyway? Don't you live in one of the richest neighborhoods in Britain? Hypocrite."

"I wish I had your meaningless problems." Erik's lips curled up in a sneer.

"And I wish you'd stop acting like you're better than me!"

"Okay, break it up you two!" Nadir intervened quickly. He looked pleadingly at Erik who snorted and turned away.

Christine tightly pinched the skin on Raoul's arm and looked at him with a warning frown. Raoul smiled at her sheepishly, although there was pain in his eyes as he rubbed the now red spot on his arm.

Erik looked out of the window and kept his mouth shut for the rest of the train ride. He let the other three fill in the silence. His mind was elsewhere.

He'd see his mother again today.

A shudder raced through his spine. He didn't think about her much during his stay at Hogwarts. He did his damned best not to.

But now he had no choice. He couldn't help but recall the ten or so years of being under her motherly care. He could already hear her voice berating him. He could already feel her angry blows on his skin. He could already sense her sticking needles in her veins and forgetting he existed in the first place.

Erik really didn't want to go back.

He shot a subtle glance at the other three in the train cabin. They were talking about trivial things, but they seemed relaxed anyway.

He'd miss them. They were barely a foot away from him and he already wanted to know when he'd see them again. Hell, he'd even miss Raoul. He was a brat, but Erik was at least getting used to him.

Erik closed his eyes.

He will survive this summer. He would.

He wanted to see them again.

and that's the end of first year! what a blast. poor erik, having to go back to his horrible mother. don't worry, though! it's not the end for our lil wizard. i plan on writing til year 7, so i hope everyone's ready!

i'd love to hear your thoughts so far. how did you like erik's trip to hogwarts? who is this rana zarin and what does she want from erik? will we hear back from lucy soon? stay tuned for more!

also, i had to do a lot of after-posting editing because this website wants to mess with me. sorry about that!