Warning: Thanksgiving at Hogwarts...a Sue doesn't get much worse that this...

Disclaimer: JKR. Not mine. Got it?

Chapter Eight: Holiday Misconceptions

After my brief return to Quidditch life seemed to settle down for a while. October rolled by and gave way to November and the end of the term was coming up faster than I realized. It was weird not being around family for Thanksgiving—no Macy's parade, no turkey (except the usual at dinner), no football (the real American football—not this soccer crap. Not that I have anything against soccer it just gets confusing which sport is which). Needless to say, I was shocked when I woke up Thanksgiving morning to a common room filled with Pilgrims and Indian paraphernalia strewn around. Hermione had gone to the trouble of looking into American holiday customs after I had mentioned my longing for canned cranberries. So, several Gryffindors (spearheaded by Harry, Ron, and Hermione) decided to bring a little bit of home to me…

"Shhh! She's coming!" I heard someone hiss as I stumbled down the stairs. I yawned—it was nearly 6am and I had only gotten up at Hermione's prodding. Something about getting up to study for a Transfiguration quiz we were having that day.

"I'm coming, Hermione—" I yawned as I rounded the last bit of the winding staircase. I coughed with shock.

"SURPRISE!" It looked like a cornucopia had exploded in the Common room. There were several people wearing makeshift Indian headdresses (in Gryffindor colors, naturally) and a few who had tried to capture the essence of a Pilgrims hat. Most had just wrapped a belt around their heads. There were gourds and centerpieces everywhere that were made of arrows and turkeys. Yes, both of them. A giant banner hanging over the fireplace: "Happy Thanksgiving Reggie". If my jaw could've hit the floor it would have.

"What—the—thingie…." I stuttered as I looked around in awe. There's nothing more amusing than watching the English trying to capture the essence of an American holiday. Every stereotypical Thanksgiving notion had been overdone. There were no words.

"We didn't want you to feel like you were missing out on anything," Hermione smiled as she threw a headdress on me. She stood back and beamed, "I looked into the holiday when you mentioned it. It seemed so important that I thought—"

"We thought it would cheer you up," Ron finished. He had a belt wrapped around his head, "And look! Look!" He was pointing to the other side of the room. Someone had charmed various books, figurines, and clothing items to parade around a table in the corner.

"What would Thanksgiving be without a parade?" Harry asked. He was grinning as much as Hermione. I was still speechless. On one hand, I was floored that I had friends that would go through all this trouble to bring a little Turkey Day to me. On the other hand, it was absolutely staggering the misconceptions they had about the holiday. I'd never really even thought about pilgrims and Indians—it was always about turkey and football in my house. I didn't want to trample their work so—

"It's….wow…guys. Really…wow." I said smiling. I pushed the headdress out of my eyes. Neville, Ginny, Fred, George, Dean, and even Angelina were there and seemed so proud of themselves. I couldn't tell them that this was absolutely the most ridiculous thing I'd ever seen. "Um…are we going to wear these things all day?" I asked, pointing at my Gryffindor inspired Indian wear.

"Oh, of course we can't," Hermione whipped out her wand and with a quick flick all of the headdresses zipped off our heads and over into the corner, "But we can have them for the feast later."

"Feast?" I asked. Oh, good lord.

"Yeah, the Thanksgiving dinner," Harry explained, "Don't you usually have a huge dinner with all your family and talk about what your thankful for? That's what the books said."

I thought back to my Uncle Larry's (Uncle Jack's older brother) last family blessing: We are so thankful for the Yankee's season, Oh Lord. The truth behind the holiday would kill them.

"Yes!" I lied, enthusiastically.

"Well, it's settled then," said Ron, "Come on, let's get some breakfast!" And with that our ragtag parade of stereotypical goodness spilled out of the common room.

The festivities continued throughout the day. Word spread throughout the castle about Thanksgiving at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore even stopped me as I left the Great Hall to tell me Happy Thanksgiving and that there would be a turkey dinner provided that evening. It was all I could do to fall to the floor in hysterics. It wasn't so much that everyone wanted to show me a good time—it was his or her own fascination at a holiday that made no sense. Think about it—how did we go from pilgrims and Indians to giant floats and football classics? Only in America. It was obvious that the whole situation made Malfoy sick—and it made me sicker thinking for once I had something in common with Malfoy.

"What's with all this Yankee holiday nonsense?" Malfoy spat as we filed into the Potions classroom that afternoon, "Turkeys? Indians? Rubbish!"

"It's a time to be thankful, Malfoy. For instance, I'm thankful that you have such poor reflexes. It makes it easier for me to kick your ass." I smiled sweetly.

Malfoy was on his feet and coming towards our table when Snape stormed the room. Our little discussion would have to wait until later. Snape was obviously not pleased at the festivities taking place in the castle. Then again Snape wasn't pleased at a lot of daily festivities—such as the sun rising or students breathing. He glided soundlessly to the front of the classroom and glared at us, as usual. With a quick flick of his wand the daily potion appeared on the board and we went about our routine.

I was carefully slicing my delgas root when Snape, who had been making his rounds of misery, came up beside me. I focused my razor, imagining I was carefully dissecting his chest cavity.

"So, Miss Bradshaw," he said dryly, " Didn't feel you were receiving enough attention, did you? Why, may I ask, did you feel the need to parade this ridiculous holiday display throughout the entire castle? How typical of an American—flaunting the conquest of another civilization through brute force and celebrating it with an elaborate feast."

I gritted my teeth as Harry snuck a glance at me. God, I hate it when he has a point. There was no need for Snape to know I shared his opinion so I simply added my ingredients to the cauldron and began to stir.

"I don't see what Thanksgiving has to do with your class, Professor," I said just as dryly, "But thank you for your stunning insight into American history."

Snape sneered, "Five points from Gryffindor for your lip," he strolled to the front of our table to oversee Harry and me personally. I felt bad for making Harry on edge—he hated Snape even more than I did. He glared at us as we added the rest of our ingredients while making snide comments—most of which I didn't hear. I pictured his head as I stabbed at the wormroot. I crushed the beetles' eyes into a fine powder thinking it was his own bones. It's amazing how pure blinding rage can focus you into a pillar of pure productive violence. I barely noticed the end of class until Harry tugged on my sleeve.

"Um, Reggie. Class was over five minutes ago," Harry said quietly.

I looked up at him. His black hair was sticking up everywhere and he ran a hand through it nervously. He probably thought I was going to slice him or something. He smiled, "You okay?"

I sighed and put the razor down. The classroom had cleared except for Harry and me—even Snape was gone from the room. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little…focused." I waved my wand and cleaned up the mess at the table, "Let's go."

We made our way out of the dungeons and started towards Gryffindor tower. Honestly, as the day had progressed I'd only felt more depressed—thinking about family and things I was missing. I hadn't even realized how homesick I was until Uncle Jack had written to me saying he would be in Boston during Christmas tying up a business deal. I hadn't heard anything from Aunt Sarah for months now. Every November back at the Academy we took a trip upstate for an overnight trip—we worked on natural magic and collected our own potion ingredients. Even the show of support from everyone at Hogwarts had started to make me feel more depressed. I missed home.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Harry asked as we climbed one of the many moving staircases.

"It's nothing," I sighed.

"You're a horrible liar, you know?" Harry nudged me with his shoulder, "Come on. You barely rose to Snape today."

"It's just—" I began. I didn't want to burst their little bubble of Thanksgiving happiness, "Don't get me wrong, everything you guys did today was really sweet. I just…it reminds me of all the stuff I'm missing at home. I didn't think I'd actually get homesick, but I am."

Harry nodded and didn't say anything for a moment. I was afraid I'd insulted him when he sighed, "You know, I thought that would happen. You've always said what a great family you've had and—"

I snorted, "Great family nothing! My parents are dead, my aunt ran off with another man, my uncle—while he loves me—is edgy around me because of my magic. It's not a family thing—I know that Thanksgiving this year would be really awkward give the past year. I think…it's more of a guilt thing."

"Like you feel guilty about being here? Like Hogwarts is more of a home than your real home was?" Harry smiled. Damn, I hate it when he knows exactly what I'm thinking.

"Yeah, that'd be it," I laughed, "I mean, I was happy back in New York, but not as happy as I am here. It's like I feel guilty about being happy. Does that make sense?"

I hadn't realized we were at the Fat Lady's portrait. We stood there for a minute before Harry leaned up against the wall to face me, "I know exactly what you mean. Hogwarts is my home—not Privet Drive. But you can't feel guilty about being happy, Reg. This place…Ron…Hermione…Hagrid…Dumbledore…even you, Reg…this is my family now. I think it's yours, too."

I blinked in surprise. How could someone the same age as me is that smart, I thought? But Harry was right, as usual. Hogwarts was starting to feel more like home than New York—even after only a few months. After all, this was where my own parents came from—where they had learned magic and met each other. The friends that I had made here weren't as sarcastic and bitter as…well, me…but I had just taken to most of them without a hitch. Was it really so terrible to think of this vast castle as my home?

Harry could sense what I was thinking—I could tell because he was grinning as he usually did when he knew he was right and I didn't' want to admit it. Just then, he smacked his forehead with his hand, "The dinner!" He shouted. He grabbed me by the arm and practically dragged me back down towards the Great Hall. I'd forgotten all about that evenings holiday feast. As we burst into the Hall I'd suddenly wished I had forgotten. Every table was strewn with cornucopias and decorative centerpieces. The centerpieces themselves had been charmed with little moving pilgrims and Indians who danced around what looked like a tee-pee. Even overhead where candles usually dotted the ceiling were various gourds in different sizes and colors. Most people knew what was going on by now, but that still didn't quell any of the confusion about exactly what Thanksgiving really was. Hermione and Ron waved from midway down the Gryffindor table. They, and several others, were wearing their ridiculous hats again. Somehow, Fred and George had managed to turn their festive headdresses into an actual turkey (well, stuffed—at least I hoped it was). I wedged my way between Ginny and Hermione as Harry sat next to Ron across the table. Harry winked as Dumbledore strode up to the podium and held up a hand for silence.

"As most of you probably know, this evenings feast has particular special meaning for our American guest, Miss Bradshaw. Today, in the United States, is Thanksgiving Day. A day celebrated to commemorate the peace between the first English settlers and the Native Americans," he began.

Okay, so he's generalized quite a bit. He left out the part about our enslavement of the Indian people and how we stole their land, killed their resources, and forced them onto miniscule patches of land called reservations…

"But tonight was not meant to bring unwanted attention upon Miss Bradshaw, who I'm sure has many definitions on the true meaning of her holiday, " I saw his bright blue eyes twinkle at me through those half-moon spectacles. Sometimes I really did wonder if he could read minds, "The premise of this holiday is very simple—to say what we are thankful for. It is a time for family and friends to come together and be grateful that we have our health, our magic, our dreams, and each other."

I could see people looking around at each other and heard whispers. Dumbledore went on, "Too often we rush through the everyday without taking pause to realize what a gift we truly have been given. To be alive…to be gifted with magic…to be able to practice our craft among friends…and to have Hogwarts as a sanctuary. It is with that in mind that I myself give thanks—" he raised his glass towards the students, "for you, my students, for my trusting staff, and to all at Hogwarts—my family."

With that everyone—even Snape—toasted a glass. Snape, however, didn't participate in the cheering afterwards. There were several who didn't really understand and still more going on about how lucky they thought they were. Our little group just sat there for a moment as the food materialized. It was a turkey dinner with all the fixings—stuffing, cranberries, and potatoes. Suddenly, I felt a swell of happiness inside my chest. With a half-smirk at Harry I raised my glass again.

"To family," I said.

Harry smirked back and raised his glass as well, "To family,"

"And friends," Hermione chimed in.

"And Quidditch," said Ron.

And with that we dug in.