Chapter 2
Harry didn't know how long he slept, or even if he was still asleep, but suddenly he found himself standing in an unfamiliar living room that was strangely reminiscent of the Dursley's, though this room seemed more artless than planned. It was no where near as cluttered as the Weasley's living room, but it still managed to feel cozy despite the scarcity of furniture.
The couch and matching loveseat were a deep burgundy, throw pillows in black and gold added a nice contrasting touch. A gold throw blanket was thrown haphazardly over the back of an old fashioned rocking chair. From the detailed work of the carving across the back and arms, Harry guessed that it was very old. Bookshelves lined the wall behind the rocker, but these books, unlike the ones at the Dursley's, looked like they had been read - many times. They were stacked and piled haphazardly on the shelves intermixed with other bric-a-brac: a small statue of a dragon, numerous framed photos that looked to be moving, some things he couldn't quite determine in the dim light, and something that looked suspiciously like a crystal ball.
This was definitely a wizarding house, he concluded, but it was nothing like the Weasley's. There was a definite muggle influence, he thought. There were pictures of wild flowers and other nature scenes framed on the walls and several green plants scattered about. He didn't recognize them from herbology, but they didn't seem to have any magical properties such as flowers or thorns. Were they only for decoration like his Aunt Petunia's plastic ones?
A large poster over the oversized fireplace drew Harry's attention. It had a big red bow tied across it, but he could still see that it was a Quidditch poster - from the 1979 World Cup, England vs. Greece. Next to the fireplace, tucked in the corner was a midsize Christmas tree, the presents underneath it almost overwhelming it as they flowed out and partially blocked the archway leading to the kitchen. The tree didn't look anything like Aunt Petunia's with its blown glass and 'collectible' ornaments bought to impress, but it didn't have homemade ornaments like the Weasley's tree, either. As Harry looked at the tree, he noticed that there weren't many ornaments on it at all, though ribbons, bows and flowers had been used lovingly. Harry smiled. It was the most beautiful tree he had ever seen.
Cautiously, so as not to step on any presents, Harry moved towards the beribboned poster to get a better look. Gently he lifted the gift tag and read it. With a gasp he dropped it as if he had been burned, stepping back and looking wildly around the room. "To Daddy, Happy Christmas. Love Harry,' was written in a distinctly feminine hand.
Like a punch to the stomach, Harry realized that he was standing in his parents' home. His home when he was a baby. Stumbling he moved over to the shelves, scanning the framed photos there. He saw his parents' wedding picture; a graduation picture with all the marauders and his mum; his father smiling with Dumbledore; his mother holding him as a newborn; and one of him and his father - he was wearing a miniature set of Gryfinddor Quidditch robes.
Before Harry's stunned mind could take it all in the fire behind him roared to life and a young Sirius Black stepped out of the fireplace, not even noticing the pale figure of Harry across from him.
"Ho, Ho, Ho!" he bellowed loudly, a smile on his face. "Come on Mooney, Prongs! Get up! It's Christmas!"
Harry heard a door creak open upstairs. "Sod off, Black," a surly voice called back. The voice seemed familiar to Harry, but he wasn't sure. Could it have been his father?
Sirius was about to reply when a baby started crying. Harry stood in wonder. Was that him crying? A door opened and this time Harry heard footsteps. "Make yourself useful, Padfoot," another voice called. "Make breakfast. I'll have my eggs scrambled, thanks."
Sirius walked across the room, barely missing Harry who was still too stunned to move. He stopped at the bottom of the staircase in the entry hall. "And just what is Lily doing?" he called up. "What's a wife for if not to cook breakfast?"
The baby's - his - cries became louder as someone went into his room and brought him into the upstairs hallway. From his vantage point Harry could only see the person's slippered feet and the bottom of their plaid pajama pants. It had to be his father, Harry thought. Who else could it be?
"Lily," he heard his father say, and this time he was sure it was his father, though he'd only heard echoes of his voice before, "is going to feed my son - who is a hell of a lot more important than you!"
"Yeah, so bugger off Sirius!" his mother's voice called down jovially. Both men laughed as his father walked back down the hall.
"Come on Remus," Sirius called back up the stairs. "We have breakfast duty!" Turning he headed into the kitchen. Soon the figure of Remus Lupin came down the stairs tying the sash of his robe, yawing widely. He looked so young and..and...happy, Harry realized. There was no sign of the pale, haggard man he would one day become.
Absently Harry listened to the two friends bantering in the kitchen as they ran water and banged the pots and pans in preparation for fixing breakfast, but his attention was focused upstairs. His parents were up there - with him. His family. He wanted desperately to go up there. To see his own room and his parents room. To see his parents - alive - for the first time in his life. But before he could manage to take the first step his father came pelting down the stairs. Harry turned without thought and followed him into the kitchen. This was his father - alive and happy, joking around with his friends on Christmas morning. Harry watched in awe as the three of them managed to make some tea, toast and eggs, laughing and talking the whole time.
"Lily!" Sirius bellowed when the table was set. James cuffed him lightly and Remus simply shook his head as he poured the tea.
"There's no need to shout," Harry's mother said from behind him, making him jump. She walked down the stairs gracefully, carrying young Harry in his arms. She was as beautiful as Harry had always imagined, her eyes twinkling as she reprimanded Sirius. Handing Harry to his father, she sat down at the table and surveyed the meal. "Not bad. I am impressed."
"What took you so long?" Sirius asked as he began to pass around the food.
His mother shrugged, as she buttered her toast, a small smile on her face. "Harry was hungry."
Sirius sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "It's always Harry. Greedy little bugger, isn't he?" Everyone laughed.
His mum looked around. "Aren't we going to wait for Peter?" she asked.
Sirius shook his head. "His mum is sick. He's going to spend the day with her. He said he might stop by later."Just hearing that name made Harry sick to his stomach, but no one seemed to think much of the news and breakfast continued.
Harry stared at his younger self as everyone ate. It was so odd to see himself as a baby. He'd seen pictures of course, but this was just bizarre. He was sitting in his father's lap happily gumming a piece of toast. His mother had dressed him for the holiday in a pair of pajamas with the feet attached that were decorated with red and green reindeers. He looked so content in his father's arms. So happy. Of course he was only five months old, but just to know that at one point in his life he had been happy like this was comforting.
Sirius pushed away from the table, patting his stomach. "So, mum, can we open the presents now?" he asked Harry's mother, his eyes twinkling as he teased her.
His mum smiled as she brushed the crumbs from her hands. "Of course." She stood and reached for Harry, planting a kiss on his black hair, her eyes twinkling mischieviously. "I'll let you do the dishes later." James and Remus laughed as Sirius groaned.
"It's bad enough you made us wait, but now you're going to make me do the dishes too?! Is this Christmas or what?" Sirius demanded.
His mum continued to smile. "When I was growing up we always had breakfast first. The anticipation made opening the presents even more fun. If I had let you, you would have been done by now," she pointed out rationally. "Besides, someone has to do the dishes," she grinned.
His dad stood up and kissed her cheek, winking at his friends. "Whatever makes you happy, Sweetheart. Now let's get to the good stuff!" His mum laughed as his dad walked into the living room rubbing his hands together in mock greed.
"Give this kid a year or two," Sirius said, chucking Harry under the chin and making him laugh, "and you won't be able to hold him back from opening them all."
"Harry will learn," his mum said confidently, following Sirius into the living room. "A tradition is a tradition. Breakfast comes first. Now James - you get to pass out the presents. James?"
Harry looked over at his dad who was stumbling awestruck across the living room towards the fireplace. His mom, Sirius and Remus were smiling broadly as they too watched him.
"Wow," James whispered, reaching a hand out but not quite daring to touch the poster. "Wow. You...you found one! And...oh my...it's even signed." He glanced back at his wife and friends, his eyes sparkling with happiness.
"Happy, Christmas, Dear," Harry's mum said softly.
"Happy Christmas, Prongs."
"Happy Christmas, James."
His dad continued to stare lovingly at his present. "Happy Christmas," he managed to whisper. Reaching out he took the gift card. "To daddy, Happy Christmas," he read, his voice trembling slightly. "Love Harry." In a moment he was back across the room enveloping both his mum and Harry in a hug. "Am I the luckiest git in the world or what, Harry my lad?" he asked, lifting Harry up into the air and making him shriek with laughter. Harry saw his mum wipe away a tear as she watched them, smiling broadly. Harry was surprised to feel tears on his own face. Even Sirius and Remus seemed to be affected by the poignancy of the moment.
"Enough of this sentimentality!" Sirius finally declared, taking young Harry from his father. "You've had your present, Prongs, now we want ours. Lily has declared you Santa, so jump to it!"
With a laugh everyone continued into the living room and found a place to sit. His dad stationed himself near the tree...all the better to pass out the presents and still see his new poster.
The morning past in a blur of laughter and love, as Harry stood and watched them open their presents, joking and teasing each other. Not surprisingly most of the presents were for baby Harry, though he didn't show any real interest in them. He became extremely fascinated by a bow that Sirius had stuck to his forehead at one point, but that was the extent of his interest in Christmas.
His mum had volunteered to open his presents for him, which caused Sirius to tease her mercilessly. Harry, who had never received so many presents before in his life, watched as his mum opened them all. Among the many that he had received were a stuffed snowy owl who looked remarkably like Hedwig, a stuffed dragon, a miniature broom stick, and a muggle like toy that dangled toys above a baby who was laying down - only this toy was obviously enchanted - these toys made noises and changed color as the baby played with them. The biggest gift was a self cleaning high chair from Sirius and Remus.
When everything had been opened, his mum placed Harry on the floor on a baby blanket, his new toy dangling above him, while she began cleaning up all the paper and ribbons. James, Sirius, and Remus cleared a space where they could put together the high chair, arguing good naturedly the whole time.
Harry stood silently in the corner, his body barely marking the passage of time, his heart fit to burst at what he had seen. So this was his first Christmas; so happy and filled with love. His parents - he had known they loved him - but to see their love, for him and for each other, was a most treasured gift. And to see Sirius and Remus young and carefree, without all the burdens the coming years had placed on them was like seeing two totally different people. What if? he wondered. What if Voldemort had been defeated before he was born? What if he had spent his whole life surrounded by these people? What would his life be like now?
His throat tightened. This is what he had always wanted. And while it was comforting to know that he had had it once, if only for a brief time, he felt the bitterness well up in him again as it had at the Weasley's. Why couldn't he have a normal life? Why couldn't he have a family? He'd give anything to have a family like this again. Anything....
Before Harry knew what was happening his parent's living room faded and he found himself standing in a darkened bedroom, two figures snuggled together under a blue and green plaid duvet.
Harry didn't know how long he slept, or even if he was still asleep, but suddenly he found himself standing in an unfamiliar living room that was strangely reminiscent of the Dursley's, though this room seemed more artless than planned. It was no where near as cluttered as the Weasley's living room, but it still managed to feel cozy despite the scarcity of furniture.
The couch and matching loveseat were a deep burgundy, throw pillows in black and gold added a nice contrasting touch. A gold throw blanket was thrown haphazardly over the back of an old fashioned rocking chair. From the detailed work of the carving across the back and arms, Harry guessed that it was very old. Bookshelves lined the wall behind the rocker, but these books, unlike the ones at the Dursley's, looked like they had been read - many times. They were stacked and piled haphazardly on the shelves intermixed with other bric-a-brac: a small statue of a dragon, numerous framed photos that looked to be moving, some things he couldn't quite determine in the dim light, and something that looked suspiciously like a crystal ball.
This was definitely a wizarding house, he concluded, but it was nothing like the Weasley's. There was a definite muggle influence, he thought. There were pictures of wild flowers and other nature scenes framed on the walls and several green plants scattered about. He didn't recognize them from herbology, but they didn't seem to have any magical properties such as flowers or thorns. Were they only for decoration like his Aunt Petunia's plastic ones?
A large poster over the oversized fireplace drew Harry's attention. It had a big red bow tied across it, but he could still see that it was a Quidditch poster - from the 1979 World Cup, England vs. Greece. Next to the fireplace, tucked in the corner was a midsize Christmas tree, the presents underneath it almost overwhelming it as they flowed out and partially blocked the archway leading to the kitchen. The tree didn't look anything like Aunt Petunia's with its blown glass and 'collectible' ornaments bought to impress, but it didn't have homemade ornaments like the Weasley's tree, either. As Harry looked at the tree, he noticed that there weren't many ornaments on it at all, though ribbons, bows and flowers had been used lovingly. Harry smiled. It was the most beautiful tree he had ever seen.
Cautiously, so as not to step on any presents, Harry moved towards the beribboned poster to get a better look. Gently he lifted the gift tag and read it. With a gasp he dropped it as if he had been burned, stepping back and looking wildly around the room. "To Daddy, Happy Christmas. Love Harry,' was written in a distinctly feminine hand.
Like a punch to the stomach, Harry realized that he was standing in his parents' home. His home when he was a baby. Stumbling he moved over to the shelves, scanning the framed photos there. He saw his parents' wedding picture; a graduation picture with all the marauders and his mum; his father smiling with Dumbledore; his mother holding him as a newborn; and one of him and his father - he was wearing a miniature set of Gryfinddor Quidditch robes.
Before Harry's stunned mind could take it all in the fire behind him roared to life and a young Sirius Black stepped out of the fireplace, not even noticing the pale figure of Harry across from him.
"Ho, Ho, Ho!" he bellowed loudly, a smile on his face. "Come on Mooney, Prongs! Get up! It's Christmas!"
Harry heard a door creak open upstairs. "Sod off, Black," a surly voice called back. The voice seemed familiar to Harry, but he wasn't sure. Could it have been his father?
Sirius was about to reply when a baby started crying. Harry stood in wonder. Was that him crying? A door opened and this time Harry heard footsteps. "Make yourself useful, Padfoot," another voice called. "Make breakfast. I'll have my eggs scrambled, thanks."
Sirius walked across the room, barely missing Harry who was still too stunned to move. He stopped at the bottom of the staircase in the entry hall. "And just what is Lily doing?" he called up. "What's a wife for if not to cook breakfast?"
The baby's - his - cries became louder as someone went into his room and brought him into the upstairs hallway. From his vantage point Harry could only see the person's slippered feet and the bottom of their plaid pajama pants. It had to be his father, Harry thought. Who else could it be?
"Lily," he heard his father say, and this time he was sure it was his father, though he'd only heard echoes of his voice before, "is going to feed my son - who is a hell of a lot more important than you!"
"Yeah, so bugger off Sirius!" his mother's voice called down jovially. Both men laughed as his father walked back down the hall.
"Come on Remus," Sirius called back up the stairs. "We have breakfast duty!" Turning he headed into the kitchen. Soon the figure of Remus Lupin came down the stairs tying the sash of his robe, yawing widely. He looked so young and..and...happy, Harry realized. There was no sign of the pale, haggard man he would one day become.
Absently Harry listened to the two friends bantering in the kitchen as they ran water and banged the pots and pans in preparation for fixing breakfast, but his attention was focused upstairs. His parents were up there - with him. His family. He wanted desperately to go up there. To see his own room and his parents room. To see his parents - alive - for the first time in his life. But before he could manage to take the first step his father came pelting down the stairs. Harry turned without thought and followed him into the kitchen. This was his father - alive and happy, joking around with his friends on Christmas morning. Harry watched in awe as the three of them managed to make some tea, toast and eggs, laughing and talking the whole time.
"Lily!" Sirius bellowed when the table was set. James cuffed him lightly and Remus simply shook his head as he poured the tea.
"There's no need to shout," Harry's mother said from behind him, making him jump. She walked down the stairs gracefully, carrying young Harry in his arms. She was as beautiful as Harry had always imagined, her eyes twinkling as she reprimanded Sirius. Handing Harry to his father, she sat down at the table and surveyed the meal. "Not bad. I am impressed."
"What took you so long?" Sirius asked as he began to pass around the food.
His mother shrugged, as she buttered her toast, a small smile on her face. "Harry was hungry."
Sirius sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "It's always Harry. Greedy little bugger, isn't he?" Everyone laughed.
His mum looked around. "Aren't we going to wait for Peter?" she asked.
Sirius shook his head. "His mum is sick. He's going to spend the day with her. He said he might stop by later."Just hearing that name made Harry sick to his stomach, but no one seemed to think much of the news and breakfast continued.
Harry stared at his younger self as everyone ate. It was so odd to see himself as a baby. He'd seen pictures of course, but this was just bizarre. He was sitting in his father's lap happily gumming a piece of toast. His mother had dressed him for the holiday in a pair of pajamas with the feet attached that were decorated with red and green reindeers. He looked so content in his father's arms. So happy. Of course he was only five months old, but just to know that at one point in his life he had been happy like this was comforting.
Sirius pushed away from the table, patting his stomach. "So, mum, can we open the presents now?" he asked Harry's mother, his eyes twinkling as he teased her.
His mum smiled as she brushed the crumbs from her hands. "Of course." She stood and reached for Harry, planting a kiss on his black hair, her eyes twinkling mischieviously. "I'll let you do the dishes later." James and Remus laughed as Sirius groaned.
"It's bad enough you made us wait, but now you're going to make me do the dishes too?! Is this Christmas or what?" Sirius demanded.
His mum continued to smile. "When I was growing up we always had breakfast first. The anticipation made opening the presents even more fun. If I had let you, you would have been done by now," she pointed out rationally. "Besides, someone has to do the dishes," she grinned.
His dad stood up and kissed her cheek, winking at his friends. "Whatever makes you happy, Sweetheart. Now let's get to the good stuff!" His mum laughed as his dad walked into the living room rubbing his hands together in mock greed.
"Give this kid a year or two," Sirius said, chucking Harry under the chin and making him laugh, "and you won't be able to hold him back from opening them all."
"Harry will learn," his mum said confidently, following Sirius into the living room. "A tradition is a tradition. Breakfast comes first. Now James - you get to pass out the presents. James?"
Harry looked over at his dad who was stumbling awestruck across the living room towards the fireplace. His mom, Sirius and Remus were smiling broadly as they too watched him.
"Wow," James whispered, reaching a hand out but not quite daring to touch the poster. "Wow. You...you found one! And...oh my...it's even signed." He glanced back at his wife and friends, his eyes sparkling with happiness.
"Happy, Christmas, Dear," Harry's mum said softly.
"Happy Christmas, Prongs."
"Happy Christmas, James."
His dad continued to stare lovingly at his present. "Happy Christmas," he managed to whisper. Reaching out he took the gift card. "To daddy, Happy Christmas," he read, his voice trembling slightly. "Love Harry." In a moment he was back across the room enveloping both his mum and Harry in a hug. "Am I the luckiest git in the world or what, Harry my lad?" he asked, lifting Harry up into the air and making him shriek with laughter. Harry saw his mum wipe away a tear as she watched them, smiling broadly. Harry was surprised to feel tears on his own face. Even Sirius and Remus seemed to be affected by the poignancy of the moment.
"Enough of this sentimentality!" Sirius finally declared, taking young Harry from his father. "You've had your present, Prongs, now we want ours. Lily has declared you Santa, so jump to it!"
With a laugh everyone continued into the living room and found a place to sit. His dad stationed himself near the tree...all the better to pass out the presents and still see his new poster.
The morning past in a blur of laughter and love, as Harry stood and watched them open their presents, joking and teasing each other. Not surprisingly most of the presents were for baby Harry, though he didn't show any real interest in them. He became extremely fascinated by a bow that Sirius had stuck to his forehead at one point, but that was the extent of his interest in Christmas.
His mum had volunteered to open his presents for him, which caused Sirius to tease her mercilessly. Harry, who had never received so many presents before in his life, watched as his mum opened them all. Among the many that he had received were a stuffed snowy owl who looked remarkably like Hedwig, a stuffed dragon, a miniature broom stick, and a muggle like toy that dangled toys above a baby who was laying down - only this toy was obviously enchanted - these toys made noises and changed color as the baby played with them. The biggest gift was a self cleaning high chair from Sirius and Remus.
When everything had been opened, his mum placed Harry on the floor on a baby blanket, his new toy dangling above him, while she began cleaning up all the paper and ribbons. James, Sirius, and Remus cleared a space where they could put together the high chair, arguing good naturedly the whole time.
Harry stood silently in the corner, his body barely marking the passage of time, his heart fit to burst at what he had seen. So this was his first Christmas; so happy and filled with love. His parents - he had known they loved him - but to see their love, for him and for each other, was a most treasured gift. And to see Sirius and Remus young and carefree, without all the burdens the coming years had placed on them was like seeing two totally different people. What if? he wondered. What if Voldemort had been defeated before he was born? What if he had spent his whole life surrounded by these people? What would his life be like now?
His throat tightened. This is what he had always wanted. And while it was comforting to know that he had had it once, if only for a brief time, he felt the bitterness well up in him again as it had at the Weasley's. Why couldn't he have a normal life? Why couldn't he have a family? He'd give anything to have a family like this again. Anything....
Before Harry knew what was happening his parent's living room faded and he found himself standing in a darkened bedroom, two figures snuggled together under a blue and green plaid duvet.