Almost before he knew it, Harry's trunks were packed, he and Ron had bid a hasty goodbye to Hermione over breakfast the next day, they'd spent all day on the train with Lupin, and the evening found them standing in front of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. And again, as illogical as he knew it was, he felt somehow nearer to Sirius, or at least nearer to his memories of Sirius.
He didn't feel sad, persay...rather, it just seemed to make him feel a bit bruised all over, like he'd just played a hard round of Quidditch. It seemed as if someone were to speak too loudly, he'd wince as though he'd bumped into a table. As they walked up to the ancient, imposing front door, he caught Ron sneaking surreptitious glimpses at him out of the corner of his eye. He really was worried – and if that was so, Hermione was probably going spare, especially being so far from them, and cut off from the wizarding world to boot. He mentally resolved to put some of their fears to rest.
"Right," said Lupin, with slightly false cheeriness, "In we go, then!"
Harry was shocked to see that the decrepit foyer actually looked somewhat inviting. Mrs. Weasley had apparently Scourgified the place within an inch of its life – it even seemed she'd gone so far as to sand the entire sagging staircase, and re-varnish. Clear, pearlescent bubbles floated near the ceiling, glowing a soft gold with conjured fairies merrily dancing and twirling inside them, and she'd hung mistletoe and holly along the banister. Harry could only imagine that a lot of tricky wandwork had gone on, as he knew how busy she must have been with the Order.
Suddenly, there was a stale whiff of gin and dirt, and immediately following, Mundungus Fletcher lurched into the foyer.
"'Arry! And the little terror 'imself!"
"Little terror?" Harry muttered, out of the corner of his mouth.
"No clue," Ron responded, eyeing Dung suspiciously.
"Means he can't remember which Weasley you are," Lupin said, audibly, "Hello, Dung."
Dung tried unsuccessfully to suppress a belch, and fell into a cringing bow.
"Sssir Lupin – hic! – V'been s'pectin' you."
"Well, Mundungus, Nymphadora is practially under the table...honestly, if you insist on – Oh, [I]HARRY![/I]"
But Harry was smothered by Mrs. Weasley's massive, be-knitted bosom as she clamped his head in her vice-like bear hug. Dung took the opportunity to sneak by them and evade her evaporating ire.
"That's nice!" Ron huffed, "I'll just get the trunks, shall I?"
"Thought you were too grown up to give your mother a kiss when you come home!" Mrs. Weasley huffed, smoothing Ron's deliberately mussed hair. He cringed and tried to pull his head away, but Harry caught him grinning as his mother swooped in to kiss his cheek.
"We'll just nip these upstairs," Harry said, making to lug the trunks up the staircase.
"Oh, don't be silly, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley said, taking her knobbly oak wand out of her apron, "You go on in to the kitchen. There's something of a little party going on. [I]Locomotor trunks![/I]"
Indeed, as though to punctuate her words, a raucous burst of men's laughter rang out from the dining room. Harry thought he could detect Ginny's giggle lost somewhere in the mix.
He and Ron entered to kitchen, and Harry was pleased to see the entire Weasley clan (minus Percy of course), along with Tonks, Mad-Eye, Hagrid, and –
"Kingsley!" Ron said, "How are you feeling?"
"Fine," Kingsley said quietly, as a beaming Hagrid gave him a hearty thump on the back, "Feels a bit odd to be back...but –"
"Dooon't mind him," Tonks said, her face bright and shiny as a tomato, "N'is [I]NONSENSH[/I]."
"Oh dear," Lupin smiled wryly, as Bill poured him a glass of wine.
"It was my fault, of course," Kingsley continued seriously, "Let my guard down –"
"[I]STOBBIT![/I]" Tonks said, her hair going a violent chartreuse in the process, "Tha'shenougha that!"
"Tha'shenough of [I]that[/I], love," Charlie said, liberating her of her mug with a smirk.
Tonks began to protest indignantly: "[I]I[/I] bet Mundungus Fletcher ten quid, that—"
"You won. Good luck getting it, though. Do pull yourself together, Nymphadora," Moody muttered bemusedly, nursing his private flask.
"Is that Firewhiskey?" Ron asked, hopefully. His mother cuffed his head calmly as she walked by, on general principle, but Mr. Weasley surreptitiously pushed his half-empty wine glass in Ron's direction.
Hagrid let out a roar of laughter, and clapped Charlie and Tonks on the back, which sent them both nearly crashing into each other.
"'Ere, gw'an, Molly! Ee's nearly eighteen! Pour 'Arry a jigger while you're at et!"
"They're [I]just[/I] sixteen this year, Rubeus," Mrs. Weasley said, her eyes twinkling, "And a fine example you lot are setting!"
"But it's Christmas Eve, Mum!" Fred said, with a broad grin.
"Go on, Mum," George said, smoothly pouring her a wine, "Just a wee one."
"Oh," Mrs. Weasley said, plomping down at the table, "Well since someone [I]finally[/I] offered!"
"Righ'," Hagrid set, climbing to his feet, and nearly upsetting the table, "S'pose I'd better be off, then."
Mrs. Weasley adopted an expression of extreme concern.
"Are you [I]quite[/I] sure you wouldn't like a coffee, Hagrid?"
"[I]Nonsense![/I]" Hagrid roared, "Never better!"
"Well wrap up, at least," she said, clucking her tongue in a motherly way.
Hagrid stooped quite low, and gave her a kiss on the cheek, Mrs. Weasley tittering and squinting against his whiskers.
"Thank'ee, Mrs. Double-yeh, but I've got good food, good ale, an' good comp'ny to keep me warm!"
"Hear, hear!" Bill said, raising his glass, "To the Founder of the Feast!"
"To Mum!" Ginny squeaked, raising a suspiciously colored butterbeer.
"To Mum!" Nymphadora cried cheerfully, her hair now an interesting mauve, "And God bless us, every one!"
There was another deep roar of laughter.
"Would you like anything, Harry?" Mr. Weasley muttered politely.
"Oh, no thanks," Harry said, grinning.
"You'll have to forgive us," he said, smiling warmly, "We haven't – yes, go on, Ron – we haven't had much to celebrate recently in the Order – and what with having Kingsley back, and it being Christmas and all..."
"The place looks wonderful...and everyone looks really happy," Harry said, feeling the same bruised sensation. He felt like he should say something else, but he wasn't too sure what to say. "Thank you for making this house a home," competed with, "If only Sirius were here."
Ron noisily smacked his lips, and set the empty wineglass back on the table.
Harry became uncomfortably aware of Moody's magical eye on him, as the others gaily laughed and buzzed over their drinks. After a moment, he nodded, and Harry felt as though he ought to go over and say hello.
"Potter," Moody growled quietly, before he got the chance, "Err...occurs that I might've been a bit harsh last time we spoke..."
Harry shook his head. "You were right. I was only thinking of myself."
Moody grinned a lop-sided grin, and nodded. "You're a credit to your parents, Harry. Any teacher'll tell you, you only push the good ones."
"Hear, hear," Lupin said, turning away from his own conversation briefly.
"Hear, hear!" cried Tonks robustly, obviously unaware of their discussion.
Later, as the party was dying down, and wine glasses were exchanged for coffee mugs, Harry and Ron sat up in their bedroom with Fred, George, and Ginny. Ginny had thoughtfully smuggled them up some warm mead (hence, the oddly colored butterbeer) which Harry nursed contentedly. Fred and George were entertaining them with tales of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, hands wildly gesticulating – experiments gone wrong, irate Howlers from parents, and dodgy dealings with Dung – they both had some impressive new scars to show off.
"Look," George said, holding out his hand – shiny red marks covered a good portion of his palm. "Blast-Ended Bon-Bons. Still can't get them quite right..."
"That's nothing!" Ron said, grabbing Fred's hand, and sticking it in his hair, "Feel that! Bludger. Nearly killed me!"
"Hang Quidditch," George said, pointing at Ron's blotchy forearms, "Now [I]those[/I] are...Err..."
But Ron had self-consciously pulled his sleeves down to his wrists.
There was a brief quiet. Harry remembered his words from their fight from last year: "Maybe it'll leave a scar! That's what you want, isn't it?" He winced internally.
"Nevermind, mate. Look," Fred said, rolling up his sleeves, and pointing to various bumps, scrapes, and scars, "Order...Order...Angelina Johnson...Quidditch..."
George continued, pulling up his shirt: "Order...Quidditch...Appendix...Angelina Johnson..."
"You git!" Fred cried, with a look like a wounded rhinoceros.
"Got to trim her nails, that girl," George said, thoughtfully taking a swig.
"Ew...Quit being gross," Ginny grimaced.
"Gross?," Fred said, feigning surprise, "Did we offend your dainty little ears?"
"Surely not our dear, sweet, Ginevra," George added.
"I have no interest in your sordid affairs," Ginny huffed teasingly.
"Bet Ron does," Fred said.
"Do not!" Ron said, his ears going red.
"Bet Harry does!" George said, winking at Harry.
"See, we'd just gotten done with practice –"
"La, la, la, not listening!" Ginny squealed, covering her ears.
Ron's watch suddenly beeped loudly.
"Oops – Merry Christmas, you lot!"
Everyone decided to hurry off to bed before Mrs. Weasley made the rounds – the Weasley children were expected to be asleep before midnight on Christmas Eve. Sure enough, no sooner had Harry and Ron settled into their covers did they hear Mrs. Weasley's feet creaking up the stairs, and pausing by their door. Harry thought back to his lonely vigil at Privet Drive that summer...how he'd imagined Ron pretending to be asleep as Mrs. Weasley prowled the house at night, accustomed by many years to running on little sleep, always one eye out for her children...He heaved a deep sigh, and snuggled into the crisp sheets, asleep before he even knew it.
Harry's dreams were difficult that night – every time he thought he understood something, it slipped just out of his reach. He found himself hiding in the corridor that led to the Department of Mysteries. Yet, inexplicably, he knew that wasn't where he was going. He was suddenly pushed, almost forcibly, into the blue-torch room, but he felt as though he ought to go back...there was something...something happening...his mind wandered back to his trial, before the Wizengamot. Suddenly his head was jerked around, and Sirius was standing before him. Yet he seemed to know that it wasn't really him. What was happening in the Wizengamot?
"Harry! Harry wake up!" bellowed Ron, leaping onto his bed and shaking him fiercely, "It's Christmas!"
"For heaven's sake, Ron," Harry said, grinning blearily as he reached for his glasses. He tried to cling to the last traces of his dream, but it slipped through his fingers like sand. Something about Sirius...and the Department of Mysteries...and there was something else...
"Well, come on!" Ron said, his eyes shining. Harry was reminded of their first Christmas together at Hogwarts – as old as they got, some things never changed.
As though to confirm his thoughts, a new sweater was draped over the end of his bed – this one was blue, and Mrs. Weasley had obviously spent quite a bit of time on it. But what caused the lump to rise in Harry's throat, was that there was no pattern of snitches, or broomstick, or owl on the front, but rather –
"An H," Harry stammered, holding the folded sweater in his hands gingerly, as though it might disappear if he handled it too roughly, "It's...I have an H..."
"What were you expecting, a Q?" Ron asked, eyeing his own with a slightly disappointed expression, "Mine's maroon. Again. She must think I like that color...Or maybe she's just trying to color-code us to keep us all straight in her head..."
Suddenly the door burst open, and Ginny came bounding in, wearing her "G" sweater in a pretty shade of kelly green.
"Go on, put yours on, Harry!" she said by way of greeting, flinging herself onto Harry's bed, and scooting backwards so she could lean on the headboard.
Harry pulled the sweater on over his T-shirt, and felt how warm and soft it was. The collar itched his neck a little bit, but he couldn't have been happier with it – he knew it was going to join the growing collection of prized possessions in his trunk.
"What else did you get?" Ron asked, opening one of the Bertie Botts boxes sitting at the foot of his bed.
"Are the hat and scarf from your Mum too?" Harry asked, holding up a slightly lopsided knit hat and scarf.
"No, those are Hermione's," Ron said, "She made me a hat too, but I got mittens instead of a scarf. See?"
He held up a knit cap that seemed to be made from varying shades of red and maroon, and two mittens which might have fit Hagrid very nicely, but Harry was quite confident would do better as hats for Ron.
"Who's this from?" Ginny asked, wrinkling her nose at Lupin's battered copy of "Bloodlines."
"Oh," Harry said, taking it from her quickly, "That's just...I borrowed that from Lupin. Just some light reading."
Ginny raised an eyebrow, but declined to comment.
"You and Hermione and your 'light reading,'" Ron said, shaking his head at the thickness of the dusty book. He shook his head, and his smile snapped back into place. "Well, go on! What did you get me?"
"Ron, honestly!" Ginny said, blushing slightly.
"Here," Harry grinned, hopping off the bed and crossing over to his trunk, and taking out a small brown paper package, marked with two interlocking Q's, "I had to do everything via Owl Order, so none of it's wrapped – sorry!"
"Wicked! A Snitch!" Ron said, unwrapping the small package, "Thanks, Harry!"
"Careful," Harry said, "You push the scrollwork just there, to practice with it. And once you catch it, you just push it again. It's also got a containment charm on it, so you won't lose it."
"Thanks, Harry!" Ginny said brightly, but then blushed. "Well, I mean...I know it's for Ron, but we all practice together anyway, so..."
"Says you!" Ron said, gazing lovingly at the Snitch's shiny gold surface, "Think I'm letting Fred and George get a glimpse of this?"
"This is for you, Gin," Harry said, handing her a brown package that said "Flourish and Blotts" on it. Ginny paled.
"Oh, Harry!" she said, "I only got you sweets! We don't usually do presents!"
"That's fine!" Harry said, laughing, "Honestly. I'm always kind of amazed that I get them at all, so I don't mind, really."
Ginny opened up the package with trembling hands, and took out –
"A diary," she said, hesitantly, running her hand over the smooth, brown leather of the cover.
"Muggle," Harry said, a bit anxiously, "Only thing enchanted on it is the lock. I figured...well, I thought you might like one. You know, just a normal one. I wasn't sure whether – well, if you don't like it, you can always take it back—"
"It's perfect," Ginny said, her eyes shining brightly, "Thank you!"
"Kids! Come on down and have some breakfast!" Mrs. Weasley bellowed.
"Just wait and see what Father Christmas brought this morning," Ginny said, with a mischevous grin.
"This morning? You mean last night," Harry said, confusedly.
"Well, are you coming or not?" she asked, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she bounded down the stairs.
Ron and Harry made eye contact, and eagerly flew down the stairs after her.
Harry followed Ginny into the kitchen, and sitting calmly at the table, holding a mug of tea and chatting with Lupin and Mr. Weasley was...
"Hermione!" shouted Ron, flabbergasted.
"Happy Christmas!" she said, smiling broadly. She jumped up from her seat and gave Harry and Ron a tight squeeze.
Lupin laughed aloud, "You look as though you've seen a ghost, Harry."
"Hermione, what are you doing here?" Harry finally managed to stammer joyfully, "What about your parents?"
"Oh," Hermione said airily, "We usually do most of our celebrating on Christmas Eve anyway...and I told them it would only be for a day or two...and they were fine."
"Wicked!" Ron said, clearly as delighted as Harry was, "I thought it would going to be a whole month before...the two of us got to see you again!"
But Harry could hear that Hermione wasn't telling the whole truth. While he could imagine the Dursleys were only too pleased to be free of him for Christmas, Hermione's parents were probably a bit miffed. She'd been leaving them as far out of her life as a witch as possible, ever since she'd gotten to Hogwarts. They must have felt as though the wizarding world was stealing her away yet again...he wondered if she'd even told them about the Ministry last year...
"We didn't get you in trouble, did we?" he asked quietly.
"Nonsense," Hermione lied airily. Her face suddenly lit up, "Did you get the hats and things? I made them myself!"
"Yeah!" Ron said, and Harry could hear how over-cheerful he was, "Thanks, Hermione! Great job on the mittens!"
"Socks," she said sourly, one eyebrow raised.
"Right! I meant socks," Ron said, his ears going a bit red, "Slip of the tongue."
"Hang on," Harry said, "We left yours up in the room."
"We can do it later," Hermione said, dragging him to the table, "Come and eat, you two!"
"Grab a plate, dear," Mrs. Weasley said warmly, turning from her place at the stove.
Mrs. Weasley had indeed outdone herself. Soon, Bill and Charlie joined them for cinnamon buns, pancakes, bacon, sausage, and potatoes. Fred and George came tromping lazily into the room, rubbing their eyes, their hair sticking up.
"Honestly, you two!" Mrs. Weasley chided, "You're up at the crack of dawn to go fiddle with your exploding this, and shrinking whatsits, but you can't get out of bed on Christmas morning?"
"Zackly," Fred said, yawning.
"Only chance we get to sleep in," George muttered, lazy scratching his stomach.
"Well, take a plate. And for heaven's sake, Arthur, put down the paper – what is honestly going to happen on Christmas Day?"
"Hmm?" Arthur said, looking up, distractedly, "Ah, yes. Quite right, sorry."
Harry couldn't help but noticed that his smile seemed strained, however. And when he put the paper down on the table, he'd put it headline-down, and without turning his head, had pushed it ever so slightly towards Lupin, who calmly took the paper and put it in his lap.
Later, Mrs. Weasley had magically shrunk the kitchen table, and levitated it onto the kitchen counter, out of harm's way. Mr. Weasley had, in turn, conjured some comfortable, very worn armchairs for the adults, while Harry and everyone else crowded nearer to the fire crackling merrily in the grate, to swap presents and pull wizard crackers.
"Thank you, Harry!" Hermione said cheerfully, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Harry had gotten Hermione a Glowworm from Flourish and Blotts, a magical bug that fed on dust and book-binding glue. When it wriggled into the spine of your book, it made the words glow faintly for night-time reading. He'd just opened a box from Fred and George full of canary creams, and a box of Ton-Tongue Toffee ("for Dudley").
Ron hastily handed Hermione a small box while everyone else was opening or chatting.
"Here," he said abruptly, turning scarlet.
"Thanks, Ron," Hermione said brightly, opening it up. She opened up the small black box, and was surprised to see a small gray stone pendant on a silver chain. It looked for all the world like a garden-variety chunk of granite to Harry, but Hermione, for once in her life, was actually lost for words.
"Wow, Ron," she breathed quietly.
Harry caught Mrs. Weasley watching them out of the corner of her eye with a Cheshire Cat grin, and he shifted slightly in his seat.
"It's a Ver –"
"Veritastone, I know," Hermione said, her eyes wide, "Ron, this is..."
"It's kind of like a Sneakoscope...it turns cold if someone's telling you a lie," Ron explained unnecessarily, for Harry was sure Hermione knew what it was, "So you always know that...people are telling the truth," he finished, making fleeting eye contact, and then returning to the floor, "About important stuff."
"Ron..."
But he just laughed awkwardly, and opened up a chocolate frog.
"Want one, Harry?"
"Sure," Harry said, automatically catching the frog as it lept out of Ron's hand, and watching as Hermione looped the chain over her neck, and dropped the stone under her sweater. His present suddenly seemed sort of juvenile, but he pushed the thought out of his head – it was Christmas, and he wasn't going to be so stupid as to worry about whose present was better.
"This one's yours, Harry!" Lupin said, sliding a small box across the floor to Harry. He opened it up and found a rather old, but beautiful wrist watch inside, with a worn black leather band.
"Thanks!" Harry said, strapping it on to his wrist, "I really needed one!"
"It was Sirius's, I think. Or your Dad's...I honestly can't remember," Lupin said warmly, "They tended to 'borrow' each other's things. Either way, Sirius left it here. I'm sure he'd want you to have it. Oh, and it shows the phases of the moon."
The face was the color of old parchment, and the numbers were in spiky roman numerals. A small window just to the right of the hands showed the date, and a tiny picture of the waning moon – every few seconds a shooting star shot by it.
"This is really great," Harry said, feeling both highly grateful, and slightly shy, as everyone had stopped what they were doing to listen, "Thank you. Oh! I got you something too! Err, if Fred and George brought them..."
"Right!" Fred said, suddenly remembering, "[I]Accio Lupin's Present.[/I]"
To everyone's delight, a small, sloppily wrapped package came whizzing in from the staircase, but the sweets from the Weasley family and the scarf from Hermione both lept off of Lupin's lap, and bonked Fred in the head as well.
"Should have been a bit more specific there," George said, cheerfully returning Lupin's gifts, along with Harry's.
Lupin eyed the package suspiciously – it was, after all, covered in nearly as much Spellotape as wrapping paper, which was a lurid yellow and green and marked with the "WWW" logo.
"Is it safe for me to open this?" Lupin asked, only half-kidding.
"Err, right, sorry about the wrapping," George said, "But we told everyone we'd gift-wrap for the holidays, and we didn't hire any extra help."
"And apparently I'm better at unwrapping presents than wrapping them, even with a wand," Fred added, "We were up all night last night."
Lupin painstakingly peeled back the tape and delicately folded back the paper, to both Harry and Ron's great annoyance (they were rippers), and opened the package to find –
"Tasteless Toffees!" Lupin said, sounding slightly confused, "Thank you, Harry! Err...boys, what do they do?"
"Exactly what they say," Fred said proudly.
"Eat one, and it tastes like toffee for about five seconds...after which, you can't taste anything for an hour," George added, leaning back in his chair.
"Oh! Well...err...thank you very much, Harry..."Lupin said, clearly trying to sound delighted with his present.
"But...They're for your potion," Harry said, feeling a bit wounded, "Because...remember, you said it tasted really foul?"
Lupin's eyebrows lifted in surprise, and he held up one of the toffees, turning it over in his fingers. A slow smile crept across his features, and his eyes had gotten overbright – Harry sighed a sigh of relief – he knew he'd done well this year.
"Thank you, Harry," he said warmly, "That's...that's very thoughtful of you. And thank you, boys!" he added to the Weasley twins, as an afterthought.
"Think nothing of it!" Fred said, winking, "We know you'll be back!"
"Shall we just assume you'd like fifty more?" George added.
"I'll owl you," Lupin laughed.
In fairly short order, all of the presents were unwrapped. By far the most surprising present was a new broom for Ginny, which she was squealing over in the corner.
"I don't want you boys spending that much money," Mrs. Weasley admonished Fred and George.
"We all pitched in," Bill added, "Besides, it's time she had a decent broom."
"It's got air brakes," Charlie was saying excitedly, kneeling next to Ginny, "And it handles really sharply...great for Chasing. You have to put the cushioning charm on yourself, though, it was extra for that...but Mum's good at them..."
Harry noticed Mr. Weasley take the crown from his wizard cracker off, as Mrs. Weasley gathered the discarded wrapping paper. His face seemed tired and careworn, as though he had something very weighty on his mind. It seemed the presents were over...
"Err...right," Harry said, "There's one more present...it's for you...Mr. and Mrs. Weasley."
All traces of care vanished from Mr. Weasley's face, and he smiled warmly. "Harry, you didn't have to get us anything!"
"We don't want you spending your money, dear," Mrs. Weasley admonished for the second time, "And it's Arthur and Molly, for goodness' sakes!"
"Right," Harry said, feeling his face go warm. He felt a bit light-headed. "Well, err...if it's alright with Lupin and everything...I think...I'd like you to have the house."
