Chapter 14: The Holidays II
AN: Rights are to JK Rowling and Warner brothers. Please write a review, feedback would go a long way to improve my work. People are reading but I don't know if they are staying or enjoying it. I don't care if you want to tell me I am the worst writer ever (if you do please tell me why and what I can improve) just tell me what you think! I still very much need a beta to help me improve on my work. Today's chapter is back on Harry.
As always, I really need a beta. I make little mistakes in grammar and spelling and could use help in phrasing.
Starting now I will be taking two to three weeks to write new chapters; I am sorry for the change in schedule.
I know I have this story listed under fantasy and adventure and right now it seems to be more of a slice of life drama. I am setting up characters I promise starting in the summer we will have more of the promised genres. I am planning on releasing the complete story in either three parts or one large story, if you have a preference let me know. The first arc is over the first two years, the second is three and four, the final is everything after.
I will also include a trigger warning, there is a minor discussion on abuse in this chapter.
A pine stood tall in the room, presents sat below the decorated green wrapped in an assortment of reds and gold. In the corner, a record player hummed a tune as a redhead female and black hair male danced with enormous smiles. The steps they took had no practice and didn't follow the music, but the pair continued the dance anyway. From the window the splashes of snowfall cut through the black of the nighttime into the well-lit room, a fireplace burning in celebration with Yule. The giants above danced and laughed and looked down on him with affection, steaming cups on the counter still and untouched. The fireplace dims and unfurls an unholy green flame, licking the room with horror to come. Frantic shouting and stumbling about leaves the redhead holding him and the black-haired man disappeared. She cries into his shoulder as the cups lose their heat. He reached up to hold her, but the room evaporated. Instead, Harry sat in bed gripping empty air in the Slytherin dorm.
His mother's name is Lily, and she has red hair and a beautiful smile. James is his father, strong and courageous.
After dressing and grabbing two texts, he ventured to the common room, already sure of his greeting. Above, the black lake's empty depths sat still, the vestiges of an enormous monster wake the only trace of life above him. The benefit of the lake was, in winter, the Slytherin common room was the warmest place in the school, the fireplaces roaring with fresh wood only added to the comfort the room brought. Throughout the school year the room felt like a war-zone, the upper year's intense power struggles with the lower years learning how, but in the winter, with the students abandoning the halls, the room grew fonder to him. The inhabitants, not the chamber, produced the atmosphere. Now, he sat in serine silence with the room supporting his time of study. The quiet pressure of the lake against the glass, the crackling of the fire eating through the wood, the smell of pine, and the cozy chair all led to wonderful reading. He cracked his first book and read the Greek writing, the power of emotion, and how to bring it to bear.
In the last week, he met with Percy once and began learning the French language, easily learning the unknown language. Percy was an amazing teacher, correcting punctuation and spellings and pronunciations, but even he was baffled by Harry's progress. Harry learned too fast, taking to the language as a fish to water. Even after one session, he was further ahead than someone with months of schooling in French. Yesterday they did not meet, even though it was a Monday, for yesterday was Christmas Eve. Harry held no attachment to the holiday, everyone spent with the Dursleys crippled his affinity for the holiday further until nothing but a void remained. Even in his dreams, Christmas held no fond memory, only that of his mother crying.
His book often reflected on the power of emotions like pain, also desperation. The emotion needed to control the spells the book spoke of holding those two in the highest regard, having the need and motivation to change the world for the benefit of the caster was the highest written line in the text, followed by the warning of the danger of any such attempt. Unexpected consequences played when fiddling with the magics it spoke of, dangerous backlashes with death being the most fortunate were common.
With a flourish, he flipped the page to an erotic depiction of an Egyptian man and woman nude and embracing each other. The section told of the powers of sacrificial magic. With a blush he pushed past the section, briefly scanning a circle titled the bringer of life. It required blood and death and brought a target to a body, though the warnings and last instructions were written in the language he couldn't comprehend.
"Hey, Harry, whatcha reading?" The ever-energetic Tracy entered. Harry briskly closed his book and tried tucking it away. "No, no, let me see," running up to him she grasped the book examining the front cover, "what are these markings?" After flipping through the text more, Harry felt his heart beating out of his chest. Suddenly, annoyance crossed her face as she dropped the book back into his lap, "It's gibberish."
"It's Greek," Harry replied, placing the bag in his pack. "Happy Christmas, Tracy." Her smile erupted further.
"Happy Christmas, Harry." She reached down and gave him a hug. Warm and full of affection, he gave in to it, fighting the urge to flee and cower at the contact, instead, embracing it. Mind over matter. Her curly hair still static from her sleep and tickled his nose.
Tracy was his first friend, but being with her was difficult. She had an endless supply of energy and loved talking, even if she had nothing to say. She hated the library and was not subtle whenever speaking. On the other hand, she was brilliant. Her smile lit up his world when it focused on him and despite her ditsy nature, she was brilliant at charms and transfiguration. She entertained him by merely existing most of the time and had made the past two weeks the best of his life.
"I want to open presents," she spoke, leaving their embrace. That was another thing about Tracy. She desired physical touch. Harry gave in to the pressure, not wanting to lose her. Thus she often sat on his side or brushed her hand against his own. He knew she drew comfort from it, no matter how he tried to stay away from her thoughts. The more time he spent with her the less resistance he had moving in as if she invited him into her headspace and wished for him there.
"Well then, grab them," Harry smiled after her as she ran to the tree gripping packages and running back and forth between the Yule fire and the tree. Every trip left her smile faded a bit more until she came up to him holding a simple brown wrapped present and a long box with a red bow.
"This is all you have?" Moisture collected in her eyes, the reason escaped him. The one brown gift would have been the most presents he ever received. Harry finding a second amazed him beyond words.
"It's amazing," He gripped the packages from her hands and sat them on his lap, "I actually get presents this year." He looked up and met her eyes, matching the welling of tears for the opposite reason.
"But you only got two,"
"Two is more than enough. Let's see what you got."
She ushered out clothes and jewelry, books and chocolate. Tracy babbled about who the gifts were from and what they symbolized, smiling through a mask of disappointment. During her opening Alastair joined the pair, perching on Harry's shoulder. He smiled along with Tracy until her pile emptied.
"Your turn."
He opened the long gift and a small note fell out. The script was overly large and underdeveloped.
Dear Harry,
I am sorry we have not gotten to talk recently. I miss you coming to the hut and drinking tea and talking about your parents. Hopefully, a song can lift up your world. Please stop by sometime.
Happy Christmas,
Hagrid
Harry closed the note and steeled himself, gripping the hand-carved flute within. The cut felt smooth, and the engraving made it obvious that it was the work of Hagrid, though how the large man worked such a small and intricate device was beyond him. The kind giant did not hate him, even giving him a present. Him blowing into the instrument left a kind hum resonating around him, as the wooden flute sang the song.
"Harry, that's beautiful, who bought it for you."
"Hagrid, the groundskeeper made it for me."
"The giant?"
"Don't call him that, he is a kind man."
"Ok, sorry, I didn't know you were close."
"We were..."
"Well, you have another package."
"Right." He opened the notecard below the thin wrapping.
Happy Christmas, Harry. Your father left this in my possession before he passed. Use it well.
The clean script of the headmaster was unmarked by him, though obvious.
"Who is it from?"
"Doesn't say, just that it was my father's." He ripped back the wrapping and found a stunning hooded cloak. The material was weightless and slippery to the touch and carried magic in it stronger than any he ever felt. Even more than the stones of Hogwarts. Lifting it up, he wrapped the silvery cloak around his neck, the precious material dropping lazily at his sides, stretching to the floor.
"It's gorgeous, Harry. Thou I doubt it is legal to wear in class."
"I agree, let us drop our stuff off and head to breakfast?"
"Sounds like a plan." She collected an armful of gifts and ran to her dorm. Harry gripped his flute and walked to his own, flicking up the hood as he walked, silencing his steps.
The Holidays.
Harry waited outside the wall for Tracy to finish her running's with his ever-loyal toad perched on his shoulder. He paced the hall wishing he brought a book, though reading in the dim-lit hall would be near impossible. Alastair hopped from his shoulder and scooted down the hall, away from the passage to the castle. Harry followed. The two moved with Alastair, the quick toad, staying one jump ahead until he stopped, a football field away from the fake wall. Harry scooped him up and replaced the toad, berating it for running off the way it did, but then he looked down. A small snake was carved on the ground, slithering further down the hallway. The pair sat on the fringe of the flickering torchlight and beyond none flared to life, only a black abyss traveled beyond his location. The snake pointed the way; the darkness called but also rejected him. Should he take a step?
"Harry, what are you doing?" He was again pulled back by his new anchor. The curly hair brunet prevented his Gryffindor tendencies more than he wished to admit.
"Sorry, Alastair ran off, let's go eat."
"This is the problem with toads, I don't understand why you have him."
"Hey, I love him."
"Weirdo." They walked to The Great Hall with matching smiles on their faces.
The Holidays.
The Great Hall was merry and brimming with life and energy, an unfamiliar experience becoming common for Harry in recent weeks. Ever since he began walking to breakfast with Tracy, he has entered a hall that had more than one other student within. The head table had disappeared, as did the four house tables, instead of one large round table with an elaborate cloth draped over displayed itself in the center of The Great Hall. Where the teacher's table previously stood a pine loomed instead, brushing the enchanted ceiling which showed a light snowfall. The tree glistened with gold and silver as ordainments and strings of garland rested upon its sturdy branches. The beginning of the round table had Dumbledore sitting in quiet conversation with McGonagall, followed by Sprout and Flitwick, and ending with Snape whispering to Hagrid who conversed with the pale man. A break of many chairs followed before the first student sat, the proud Percy failing to act as if he weren't attempting to listen to the conversation they had, a failing task given his crushed brow. Not that he blamed Percy for his failure, the twin's loud bickering made it difficult to hear his own thoughts. The redheads continued on for another child before the small congruent of Ravenclaw's sat, the younger students in awe of the teachers eating with them. Finally, the upper year Slytherins took residence, sitting on top of the Ravenclaws, leaving many seats between the headmaster and themselves.
Tracy moved to join the group, but Harry decided on a different route, sitting on the left of the aged professor instead. Snape froze upon this action and swiveled his head away, not attempting to hide his disgust.
"Thank you, sir, Happy Christmas." Harry began as he sat down.
"I have no idea what you are talking about, my boy." He tapped his finger on the side of his crooked nose, disturbing his half-moon glasses, "I did not see myself getting you anything." He smiled as if making a joke. "In fact, could it even be a gift if it was originally yours?" He finished in a whisper.
The sound of Tracy's chair scraping next to his own joined the song playing on the wizarding wireless set up in the room.
"Thank you, did you receive any gifts this year?"
"Alas, I did. A collection of books so old my grandfather would have no use for them, a letter from my former mentor displaying his displeasure I never dropped by, more books than any one man can read. All in all, another worthless year of boring gifts."
Harry let out a chuckle, joining only Flitwick and Dumbledore in the action. The rest of the audience looked on in displeasure, or for Hagrid and the student's confusion. Professor McGonagall berated the old man, speaking of social etiquette and proper teaching behavior. This just brought a bigger grin on the half goblin's face as Dumbledore did his beast to look ashamed for his actions, thus showing almost no remorse. During the discussion, a recent feeling, born of the wand sitting comfortably on the headmaster's side assaulted Harry's senses, calling out to him with a familiar powerful magic. Once McGonagall had her fill, Dumbledore turned back to Harry, "Happy Christmas."
The Holidays.
"Harry, where are we going?" Tracy yelled over the light breeze.
"To Hagrid's," he replied, stepping through the fresh snow, ankle-deep. Below the crunchy layer were many more centimeters of compacted snow tenaciously holding him from sinking further into the land. He donned only his silver fashioned winter coat and light gloves, expertly stepping through the land without care for the winter's dry cold pressing on his cheeks. Ever since Christmas of '89, winter's breath bothered him less than it should. Ice kisses he had on his extremities that year marked the last time a fridged touch harmed him. Looking back now, the only way he survived was by his magic supporting his needs. The same magic explained the hunger and brokenness. The surging power running through his veins healed him from harm and prevented more from happening.
Binn's discussed in History how wizards were more durable than their muggle counterparts, a fact his housemates enjoyed knowing. How the magic that flowed like blood added another layer of defense, something that allowed a sport that had iron balls trying to murder players meters off the ground to exist. Harry had no doubt he could take more punishment than his counterparts however, he knew he could shrug off a blow to the stomach, or a pan to the head. A belt wrapping against his back would fill time more than bringing promised pain, though the original marks still showed.
Ahead, The Forbidden Forest banks separated into individual trees rather than the massive sea seen from the castle. Even decorated in the white frost the looming wood radiated its sinister energy, eager to ward off intruders. The leafless branches now painted the woods as a skeletal graveyard, welcoming all to join its undead host, the wind shuttering the branches like grasping arms. Without the cover provided by the leaves, figures cloaked in shadows passed silently beyond the capability of the eye to see, haunting scraping sounds and animalistic screams escaped the confines.
The soft crunching of Tracy's following steps stopped. "What's wrong?" He turned back to her.
"Are you certain it is safe?" Fear was evident across her face. Harry remembered his first impression of Hagrid, judging him for his size and upkeep, just as people judged him. It ashamed him, the hypocrisy he showed the genital man. He could imagine himself in Tracy's situation thou. He looked savage and lived on the brink of The Forbidden Forest, a frightening place amplifying a frightening appearing man.
"Hagrid would never harm a fly, well unless it let him meet something bigger and scarier looking…" he trailed off noting a weight lifted from her, "I am not carrying a dragon and I doubt you are in that cloak so we should be safe." He flashed a smile that became more comfortable on his lips as of recent. The way it shaped on his face felt as natural as the sun rising in the morning. She stuck her tongue at him and walked nearer him, brushing her arm against his own.
Where Harry dressed in a button-up and loose tie with the cloak and gloves, Tracy dressed for deep winter exploration. She donned a heavy wool hat with matching gloves, both gifts from her mother, and a stripped Slytherin scarf. Her winter cloak wrapped around her tightly as she gripped the extremities of it closed. Underneath she wore a heavy jumper. Despite the many stone she carried in heavy clothing, she still shivered.
Ascending the tall steps Harry knocked on the thick wood door with Hagrid quick to answer, "Harry, Happy Christmas." He reached out his massive hand and placed it on Harry's back, covering it in the entirety, pulling him in for a hug.
"Happy Christmas, Hagrid."
"And who is this?"
"This is my friend, Tracy Davis."
"Davis. Davis. I don't know a Davis, though you look like Patience Burton."
"You knew my mom?" Harry turned to see her expression light up.
"Of course, I knew her, Ravenclaw loved magic creatures and would spend most of her time out near my hit." Hagrid's pride showed through about a fellow creature lover, "What happened to her?"
The smile dropped from her face and her head dipped, "She works in Germany."
"Still working with magical creatures?" Harry enjoyed being around Hagrid, but his inability to read people was worse than Harry's.
"No, she works with my dad, a secretary at his business."
"That's not bad, at least they work together." Hagrid started a pot, leaving the door open for the cool breeze to enter.
"It's muggle." The sadness carried in on the wind almost inaudible, but Harry heard. He gripped her sleeve and ushered her forward, a tried smile not reaching her eyes met his and he slipped in. She was so vulnerable. Any attempt of focusing on not seeing did not help. It was as if she wished for him to see and understand. The fighting, yelling, screaming, hitting. He was frightened of what she would be, a witch. Of what she could be. Her mother smiled at her, promising everything would be all right. The packing, the move. Her mother never defended her, only apologizing, and promising a better future, there was no future for her. Then they flew back, her and her mother. They would be happy together, just the two of them.
The next day she awoke in an unfamiliar room in a large and comfortable bed. A little blonde woke her, full of energy and hope, Astoria. A kind girl, full of energy. After her, Daphne, the perfect girl with perfect hair and a perfect family, as beautiful as the flower that named her, and the perfect friend.
Harry brushed her tears before they fell, giving her an encouraging smile. "Let's drink some tea."
The Holidays.
"Then James came running down with a large rack of antlers sticking from his head, chasing Remus. When they turned the corner, he nearly punctured Lily."
"Did she run away?" Tracy asked.
"Not if I know my mother, chances are she cursed both James and Remus."
Hagrid let out a full-bellied chuckle, "You're right on that one Harry. Her wand flew to her hand faster than a snitch and she turned James face down into the ground. As Remus tried running away, abandoning his friend to his fate, she already charmed his bookbag to set off the dungbombs inside, behind a scent masking charm of course."
"Wait, Hagrid, there must be something wrong with your story."
"What's that, Tracy."
"You said that Remus partially transfigured James's hair and that Lily made a partial ward on the fly."
"Tracy, for as amazing as it sounds this happened their fifth year." She still displayed disbelief, "Harry's parents were two of the most amazing wand users I have ever met. James did conjuring on his OWL and Lily broke down a ward for hers."
"Wow, that's amazing," Tracy said. Why couldn't he? If Harry's parents were so amazing, why did every spell fail him, why did he fail so much at casting magic if his parents were so talented. "So, what happens next?" she continued.
"Well, Lily is with me for detention the following week, no dueling in the hallways remember, and I ask why she responded the way she did."
"And."
"And she goes, 'That dumb stag stank so much I smelt him before he turned the corner. I am telling you Hagrid, the dungbombs are an improvement.'" Hagrid laughed the loudest, but Tracy's giggle nearly matched it for volume. Harry did as well, though he required effort.
"What's that for Hagrid." Tracy pointed to a framed newspaper, from the current year, with goblins walking about on the cover.
"Oh, that's the Gringotts break-in of July."
"Why did you hang it?" Harry cut him off.
"Well, earlier that day I emptied the vault. I figure I am the reason Gringotts still has a perfect record."
"What did you grab?" He pushed more, a mistake if the discomfort Hagrid showed told him anything.
"That's not important, Harry. Just an errant for Dumbledore and Flamel." He suddenly stopped, as if he let out a tremendous secret. "Forget you heard that, just, wow, look at the time, getting quite late. Why don't you two head back?" The pair complied with the kind man and soon walked through fresh snow at the late hour of four o'clock.
The Holidays.
After dinner, Tracy and Harry headed back to the dorm and played a few games: chess, gobstones, and exploding snap. After giving each other a hug, they wished a happy holiday and went to their dorms. In his Harry found his silver cloak calling him. Wrapping it on his shoulders, he felt safe and warm, as if his dad hugged him from above. "I love you dad, Happy Christmas. You two mom." Curling up he wandered off into the land of dreams, closer to his parents than ever before.