Chapter 1- The Gift

"What do you suspect he wants to talk to you about?" asked Ron.

"Dunno. I reckon he heard about the dung bomb outside of Snape's class." Harry said, moving his glasses further up his nose.

"Well, Malfoy deserved it and it was all worth it to see his face," Ron told him. "But what about the chess game?"

"Oh leave Harry alone Ron, " whined Hermione "he has more important things to do."

"But-uh"

"I'll play a game of chess with you, " replied Hermione, "Now come on. Bye Harry! Meet us back in the common room when you are finished!" The last thing Harry saw was Hermione grabbing Ron's shirt collar and dragging him down the hall before she turned the corner and they disappeared.

What did Dumbledore want to speak to him about? Harry had been inside Dumbledore's office a few times within his years at Hogwarts. Harry was sure he had not done anything to endanger anyone, so he tried not to worry as the spiraling staircase took him up to Dumbledore's office. Before entering, Harry looked himself over, brushed his hair back with his fingers--which only made matters worse-- and buffed the tops of his shoes with the back of this pant legs. Harry knocked and waited. There was a surge in Harry's legs telling him it wasn't too late to run, but his mind held his feet in place as he heard Dumbledore's soft-spoken voice say, "Enter." It was like a whisper but Harry heard it very clearly. He took a breath and turned the knob.

"Ah, Harry. Beautiful evening, don't you think?" the headmaster asked, while looking out of his window at the sunset. "I believe the senses become more alert at night. Can't use your eyesight for everything at night, but you and I wouldn't know anything about that would we?" Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling behind his half-moon shaped spectacles.

Harry smiled. Dumbledore didn't seem angry so that relieved Harry a bit. "No sir," Harry replied, playing along with the joke. After, there was a silence as Harry waited to know why he was called there and Dumbledore looking out the window.

"Sunsets are amazing," he said, sagely. "None are alike, but always majestic." Harry decided to ask.

"Sir, why did you want to see me?" he inquired. As if he just came from a completely different time and place Dumbledore said,

"Oh of course. I know that Christmas isn't for a few weeks but I thought it wouldn't make too much of a difference if I gave this to you now." Dumbledore was fumbling with one of his desk drawers. He pulled out a box and set it on the desk between them. "These are some of your father's old things. I think that they have been with me long enough." Harry looked down at the box and stared at it hard. His father's things? What was inside? He had a very small collection of things from his father already. Did the box hold more than one gift? Why was Dumbledore giving it to him now? Why not earlier?

"Do you want it?" came the headmaster's voice.

"Yes, yes of course." Harry said taking the box. "Thank you."

"Now please proceed to your dormitory, Harry." Harry got up to leave when Dumbledore added, "Oh and Harry? Have a nice evening." Harry could have sworn he saw the headmaster wink behind those spectacles. Harry nodded and left. He hurried up to the Gryffindor common room to tell Ron and Hermione about what Dumbledore had said. Once Harry stopped, thinking he should open the box, but then thought it would be better to do it in the common room just in case. He made his way up all of the staircases till he reached the Fat Lady who smiled as he approached.

"Password?" she asked.

"Maestoso." Harry said carelessly. The portrait opened and Harry rushed inside. "Ron? Hermione? You here? Ron? Ron?" No one was in the common room except for a few first years revising for exams. Harry took the box upstairs to his dorm. Harry couldn't wait any longer. He opened the box to find a quill, a handkerchief and a pair of round glasses. These were his father's things? Harry picked up the handkerchief, smelled it and turned it over. On the bottom was embroidered letters. It read:

James Lily

Harry smiled a weak smile at this. He stared at the handkerchief for a while then stuffed it into his pocket. He looked into the box again and picked up the quill. He ran to get some paper to try it out. The quill looked normal but in the right light had some silver threads in the feather. Harry opened up his inkbottle but before he could stick it in, the quill's tip flooded with ink and was ready to write.

"Self-ink quill? Whoa." Harry told himself. He wrote his name up at the top of the page when he saw something reflecting on the quill in a deep maroon. It read: moonshine. "Moonshine?" Harry said out loud. The quill threw itself out of Harry's hand. He pushed himself farther away as the quill started writing on it's own. Harry bent over to read:

Put on the glasses.