Chapter 30: Christmas Gifts

Christmas Day

12:30 am

"When this is over," said Madam Bones. "You're all fired."

The supervisors, directors, and everyone else from the Customs Department stood stock still as the axe of Madam Bones' rage fell on the small conference room. Madam Bones' arms were pinned behind her back as she strode through the room, silent save for her footfalls.

"Because of the inept leadership in this department, we almost lost several Aurors today, not to mention a crowd of Muggles. If your employee, Harold Shacklebot, hadn't called me, and warned me in time, then I would have you all condemned to Azkaban for sheer incompetence."

It shouldn't be possible, thought Harold, but she was the leader of the Wizengamot. It was not an idle threat.

"However, before leaving," she said, turning to face them all. "I will be interrogating each of you one by one to determine if any other dangerous materials snuck their way through the logs and were not reported. Do not lie to me, or I will know, and then I will have you thrown in Azkaban for the obstruction of justice."

Someone knocked on the door, and Madam Bones barked, "What?"

The man entered, his face wet with perspiration. "Madam Bones, you said to contact you once we determined the results of the tests. It is as we feared."

There was a moment of tense silence. Then, Madam Bones roared, "Contact everyone on the council, all the high ranking Aurors. We are having a meeting right now!"


Christmas Day

8:30 am

Harry's computer took about twenty minutes to turn on completely, so he had plenty of time to get ready and grab some cereal before checking his email.

The first one he opened was from Dr. Kellogg (no relation to the breakfast cereal).

Your theories on energy are quite interesting, he said. And they do have some corroboration in several scientific papers. However, most modern researchers consider this pseudoscience, and ultimately untestable. There is not much else I can say on the matter.

However, as to your question about dark matter detection, I've heard of a group of scientists who are attempting that at a research facility in Italy. They say they have designed an experiment that will show a reaction in the presence of dark matter. We don't know the full details; however, it would likely involve several key components…

"Harry," said his mother from the living room. "Come here, we're opening presents."

"In a minute," said Harry, quickly scanning the rest of the email. "Can I use the printer?"

His mother sighed, but his father just chuckled. "Let him do it, dear. He's working on his project."

It's not just a pet project, Dad, Harry wanted to say. Dyson spheres would be colonizing the galaxy before his father took his work seriously. Sighing, Harry turned on the printer and did his business.

Aside from the usual socks and ugly sweaters, Harry got a few presents this year that he liked. Most of them were books, including a few pop-sci textbooks Harry thought were a waste of paper, but he didn't complain.

Next, his parents opened their presents. His father smiled when he opened the watch Harry bought him, and his mother put on the pin he got her. Harry was watching for any signs of discord between them, but he didn't catch anything. In pretty much every way, they looked like a happy couple, enjoying Christmas with their family. It made Harry feel relieved, even if he didn't believe it was true.

After opening presents, his mother started preparing Christmas dinner. Harry was peeling potatoes when his father came in from the other room. "Listen to this," he said, pointing at an article in the newspaper. "Last night there was an attempted bombing in a Catholic church not far from here. Everyone is safe, but police are investigating a terrorist attack."

"Oh heavens," said his mother, who was basting the turkey. "Where was it?"

His father mentioned the church, and his mother closed the oven. "I'll have to call Mary Ann and check on her. She goes there every weekend."

His mother went for the phone, and his father turned to Harry. "So, how's the research going?"

Harry was quiet, and just kept peeling potatoes.

His father raised his eyebrows. "Not talking to me, huh?"

"If you insist on treating it like a pet project, then I imagine that it won't hurt you much if I don't disclose the details."

Harry expected his father might do his eyebrow laugh again, but instead, he looked very grave. "Who said I thought it wasn't important? I had several projects of my own growing up, and one of them won me a scholarship. I'm just curious about what you're doing."

"Well…" said Harry. "I might tell you. Once I have more to report."

His father nodded, taking a seat in the chair by the kitchen counter, and opened the newspaper again to read.

After a few minutes, Harry said, "Uhh…Dad, tomorrow I would like to go to the store for a present."

"A present? For who?" said his mother, entering the room.

"Umm…" said Harry, looking at the floor helplessly. "Umm…"

His mother lit up. "Harry, is it a girl? Do you have a girlfriend?"

Now his father was doing the eyebrow laugh. "Mum, please don't," whined Harry.

But she wasn't listening. "Oh, this is the best present I could have asked for!" she said. "Come now, tell me all about her!"

Harry watched his mother leaning against the counter, eyes aflame with Personal Interest, and realized she wouldn't stop pestering him unless she had something to go on.

"So," said Harry slowly. "Let's just say she's short, blonde and is as Slytherin as they come. Got stuff to do, bye."

Harry hopped off the stool, prepared to let that be the end of the conversation. His father cleared his throat, turned a page in the newspaper.

"Basically," he said. "She's the opposite of all those things."

Harry whirled around. "Dad!"

"Oh, is it Hermione?" His mother brightened. "Please tell me it is! I was so scared you'd end up with a cold hearted robot woman who would be the death of all dinner conversation. I could just...see those wedding photos." Her nose wrinkled in distaste. "But Hermione would be so wonderful for us-err, for you! Now tell me, when are you taking her on a date?"

"I want to go back to Hogwarts," sighed Harry.


Christmas Day

12:40 pm

Hermione ate her Christmas meal with her family, every so often glancing at the clock.

She had received two calls this morning already. The first was from Auror Lee, who told her about the "Christmas Incident." Due to security reasons, he was vague on the details, but he said the situation had been resolved, though she might hear something about it on the news. Tonks also called her, informing her that everyone in the Ministry had been freaking out last night, but it looked like things had calmed down. Both of them had also given her another warning: Don't tell Harry.

Hermione worried at first, but since things calmed down, she tried not to let it spoil her Christmas. She was surrounded by family, goofy younger cousins, and a new cat who liked to purr and sit in her lap. Everyone was safe and happy. There was just one thing missing.

Again, she glanced at the clock. She shouldn't be so nervous, she knew that. She shouldn't be waiting at all. And yet, her ears were listening for the sound, just like her cat when she heard a bird outside.

If it doesn't happen, I won't be sad. I know he's just busy…and also I know I'm thinking about him too much again. I need to stop that. Maybe it's better if he doesn't call.

Her cat purred and jumped from her lap to go play with some crumpled wrapping paper. Hermione smiled and reached for another croissant.

When the phone finally rang, Hermione leaped from her chair and ran over. "Hi Harry," she said, trying and failing not to sound as excited as she felt. "Merry Christmas!"


Christmas Day

5:30 pm

"You said the words were blurred?"

"Yes," Harold repeated, for the 5th time that day. "But not the words for the explosives. It was the item that came through right before those that we couldn't identify."

"Are you certain?" said Madam Bones, looking directly into his eyes.

He hesitated. It was the 8th time someone had asked him that day, and he was starting to doubt himself. "As far as I know, that's the truth." He shifted in his seat. "Do we have any leads on what caused the glitch? Is it possible it was a…hiccup in the system?"

Madam Bones gave him a calculating stare.

"No, it's not," said Madam Bones, straightening the papers after making a final note. "Our analysis shows the logs are in perfect working order, as they always have been. Every time there has been an error in reading the object's identification code, it's because the logs were confounded on purpose. The last time was during Grindelwald's reign of terror, where he Apparated weapons across the border before perpetrating attacks against London."

She set the papers aside, folded her hands. "We will be launching a full investigation into this error, including examining all the magics in place on the log books. We need to improve our defenses, make our magical artifacts stronger than our enemy's. We need to make sure this doesn't happen again."

"Err…okay," said Harold, wondering why she was telling him all this classified information.

Then, he had a horrible, sinking feeling.

"Starting today," said Madam Bones. "I will be instating you as the Chief of Staff of the Customs Department. You will be in charge of oversight for all employees, which will be working closely with security personnel. The immediate danger is taken care of, but we cannot relax in vigilance. You will report directly to me on a daily basis with a copy of all items coming into and out of the country."

Crap.

"In addition," said Madam Bones. "Your pay will be increased, and you will be allowed a certain level of control over the department. I will brief you fully on the changes taking place tomorrow morning. Do you have any questions?"

"Just one," Harold said, with a resigned sigh. "Can I put a heater in the room?"


Wednesday, January 4th

"Holy Azimov, what is that?" asked Harry, when they met at Hogsmeade station.

"It's my cat," said Hermione.

"That's a cat?" said Harry, dumbfounded. "What was its mum, a walrus?"

"That's not polite to say, Harry," said Hermione primly. "She's just chubby. A girl can be beautiful at any size, you know."

"Okay," said Harry, who wasn't touching that comment with a ten foot pole. He would have bet money that the huge creature had to be a tom cat, though. Its yellow eyes blinked at Harry in a bored sort of way. "Why Crookshanks, though? It makes it sound like you got her from a prison."

Hermione hugged the orange cat to herself, who didn't seem to mind being carried like a rag doll. "I sort of did. She'd been at the pet shop for a long time, since no one else wanted her. I think she's wonderful, though. Here, watch."

Hermione set down the cat and made a clicking noise between her teeth. The cat fell into step beside them as they walked through the train station, its bottle-brush tail swishing back and forth. "She's so smart," sighed Hermione. "I bet she'd even be able to solve math problems if I gave her some blocks."

Harry shook his head, smiling. "I suppose this is as good a time as any," he said, handing her his present.

"Another one?" Hermione opened the wrapping paper carefully, then her eyes brightened. "Aww, a cat necklace! It looks just like Crookshanks!"

If she was a normal cat, and not half mountain gnome, thought Harry, but didn't say, because the cat was making him nervous. She was looking at him with an unnervingly intense glare, as if judging him for his private thoughts.

Hermione took out the necklace, struggling to clasp it behind her neck.

"Here, let me," offered Harry. After a brief hesitation, she turned around, holding her hair out of the way. He was careful not to pinch her skin as he fumbled with the tiny metal clasp, his fingers brushing her shirt instead. When he'd finished, she turned around, taking a second to admire the necklace.

Harry found himself staring at her. When Hermione looked up, she started brushing off her clothing, jeans and a pink sweater. "I have cat hair all over me, don't I?"

"No…it's…" he paused. "You don't usually wear muggle clothes at school."

"Right, and that was on account of the cat hair," said Hermione. "I figured I would change into my robes once I got to school."

"Uh…yeah," said Harry, shaking his head. "That makes sense."

They walked out of the station, Harry asked, "Want to come to the Ravenclaw dorm after you get dressed?"

"I have a meeting with the Aurors, actually," said Hermione. "But I'll see you at dinner." "Okay, and umm, about the thing on your list…still want to do it?"

She nodded. "Yes. We can start next week."


Saturday, January 6th

"This is a rather inauspicious time to begin preparing this potion," said Professor Slughorn, bustling around the cabinets in his classroom. "But I did promise I would show you, so let us begin. Set the cauldron to boiling while I prepare a few ingredients."

Harry and Hermione did as he requested. Slughorn had given them preparation instructions for the Identification Potion, which ran about a meter long and was quite complicated. It wasn't the most difficult thing Harry had ever tried to brew, but several items were rather expensive, and it would be a waste to mess it up on a silly mistake. It was for that reason they were hovering over a giant cauldron in Professor Slughorn's classroom on a Saturday afternoon, rather than watching the dueling match like Harry had wanted.

"Add two cups of the powdered mugwort," said Professor Slughorn from across the room. "As soon as the cauldron starts to boil, but not a moment before."

Hermione already had it measured, along with the rest of the ingredients for the 1st step of the brew. There were five parts in all, which would take about three hours to complete. She stirred the potion base with a spoon, frowning at the cauldron. "The solvent smells very metallic, like copper."

"Add a bit more talc," said Slughorn.

"How much, exactly?" asked Harry.

"I'm not sure. You have to feel these things out." Slughorn came over, setting down a few canisters of green leaves beside them. He took a whiff of the potion before plopping a heaping spoonful of talc into the base. He stirred it, and the smell diminished. "It's a little like cooking. Do you like to cook?"

Both of them shook their heads, and Slughorn made a "tsk tsk" sound. "Students these days are neglecting the culinary arts. I personally believe it is why potion scores have been so dreadfully low. I asked one fifth year to cut a root julienne style, and he said, 'Isn't that the book by Shakespeare?'" Slughorn pinched the bridge of his nose. "Anyway, keep stirring constantly, switching direction every thirty seconds."

Hermione stirred for a while, and Harry took the spoon when she got tired. Slughorn continued fumbling around in his cabinets, and it still wasn't clear what he was looking for. "Ahh, this reminds me of the good old days," he said with a chuckle. "I had two bright young students like yourselves who were quite accomplished with potions. They were always working on projects together, and they were among those with the most promise in the Slug Club. It's a shame they parted ways, they would have made a handsome couple. They would have accomplished great things, I'm sure."

Harry didn't really care, but Hermione looked curious, "Who were they?"

"They were Lily Evans, the best charms mistress of her generation, and Severus Snape, my most accomplished student in potions."

Harry kept stirring the pot, but it was purely an automatic response. He could not believe that even Slughorn could be so insensitive. "Professor, you do realize if my mother had married Professor Snape I might never have been born?"

"Well of course! Just wondering what might have been. You do look so much like James. Never would have caught him in here on a Saturday, though, too busy practicing on the Quidditch pitch or out making mischief..."

There were a few more moments of silence while Harry stewed.

"And for the record," muttered Harry. "I am nothing like Professor Snape."

Professor Slughorn gave Harry an owlish look over his glasses. "You did not know Snape well, I gather. He was quite intelligent, and he had an intuitive understanding in many areas of magic. He always had a book under his nose, constantly researching and working on new things. I had to practically push the chair out from under him to get him to leave his corner and have conversations with people at my parties. Except Lily, of course."

"You're forgetting," said Harry, his tone sharp. "That he was a walking disaster who wallowed in his own self-pity, treated everyone up to and including the Headmaster with contempt, abandoned himself to the dark arts for no reason besides that they seemed "cool," and whose chief joy in life seemed to be harassing young, innocent children for his own amusement."

Slughorn sighed. "If this surprises you, then you must also not be familiar with many teachers."

Hermione was preparing ingredients, but he could hear the diplomatic, yet slightly anxious, tone in her voice. "Well, I don't mind being compared to the most accomplished charms mistress of her generation. I read that she was also Head Girl, and quite beautiful." She blushed. "Not that that matters, anyway."

"Oh yes, she was quite vivacious and charming," said Slughorn, his tone wistful. "And she was kind too, as well as principled. She'd have had a good effect on Severus, I think, if they hadn't grown apart. You can add the mugwort now."

The cauldron had only just begun to bubble, but Slughorn wasn't close enough to see that. Hermione added the mugwort and took over stirring, her forehead pinched in concentration.

Harry watched carefully, every few stirs dropping in crushed pearls. Sometimes, Harry did wonder what his biological parents were like. Lupin had told him a few anecdotes, but they still seemed like characters out of a story book rather than real people. If it was true that his mother was like Hermione, and his father was…well, an obnoxious Gryffindor, then how on Earth had they gotten along? And if she was good friends with Snape, then why didn't he listen to her advice? If Hermione yelled at him about something, then he tried to consider what she wanted, at least so she'd stop bugging him.

The thing that bothered him most about Snape was that he'd been a disappointment. The love of his life died, and he'd spent the rest of his time moping around Hogwarts, becoming a weak, pathetic version of who he could have been. If that exact situation had happened to Harry, there would have only been two options. One, raise Hermione back from the dead, or, two, exact revenge on every person who had ever hurt her. The fact that she'd already been resurrected once proved that he had surpassed Snape's ingenuity and ambition. Harry didn't want to say he'd loved more, because that wasn't easy to measure, but…perhaps his mother could have been saved if Snape had been a follower of light like him.

Wait a minute, thought Ravenclaw. Did we just admit Hermione is the love of our life?

Harry stopped stirring.

No…wait, that's not the purpose of the analogy-

"Do we add the Ashwinder eggs next?" asked Hermione.

"Err, yes," said Harry, picking up the bowl of them.

"Wait a moment," said Slughorn, approaching them. He placed a hand over the cauldron, felt the steam rising, and then said, "Add just one egg, and reserve the others for later."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"The potion is too hot," said Slughorn with a frown. "This was not a good time to work this magic. Everything is under too much stress."

"What does that mean?" asked Harry, but Slughorn just shook his head.

"Follow my directions, and it will be fine. Now, add the first egg and I'll bring out the phoenix feather."

Harry and Hermione spent the next several hours slaving away over the cauldron, while Slughorn stopped them every few minutes to change something about the potion. Slughorn seemed tense, like a doctor performing open heart surgery. Harry could see Hermione growing restless, sensing his nervousness. Harry began to suspect if they'd attempted it without Slughorn, they might have blown a chunk out of the side of Hogwarts.

Once they were finished, Harry held a bright blue potion that shimmered in its flask.

"There we are," said Slughorn, wiping his forehead with his kerchief. "It came out beautifully, after all. Use it sparingly, only a few drops at a time."

Harry held their prize in his hands, watching the swirls of color within. "Can we use it immediately?"

Professor Slughorn nodded. "Yes. But store it in a cool place once you finish, it will last longer."

In no time at all, Harry and Hermione were back in his lab, pulling items out of his closet and their personal inventories for testing. Harry had an array of items he'd labeled for "first dibs" out on the table. Hermione had only the crystal apple.

"Let's test it on a known substance first," said Harry, and dripped the potion on a book.

"Item: Bartimus Bailey's Index of Magical Powders, Dusts and Aerosols," said a disembodied man's voice, in Queen's English. "Published: 1935, 1359th edition. List of all known powdered items that are not protected under the Interdict of Merlin. Item code: 7301938."

Harry had chills. Starting to get excited, Harry dripped it over the glowing, red ball he'd gotten from a Gryffindor quest a few months ago. "Item: Fluorescent ball. Open and feed pods to animals to cause a safe, temporary glow. Item code: 3092840."

Harry and Hermione both looked at each other, reading each other's thoughts. The Weasleys would have loved this one, if they could have been a tad more patient about their profit margins.

"Let's try your crystal fruit," said Harry, giving her the bottle.

She tipped it over, and two drops slid down like dew drops. "Item: Death Fruit. Will instantly petrify any living organism that ingests it. Item code: 0000139."

Hermione stood frozen. Then, in a trembling, small voice, "I had this unwrapped in my pouch."

They stopped everything and quickly tested every quest item still in their pouches, but nothing else caused instant death. Harry examined the potion container, noting how much they'd wasted on that. "Let's do one more for now."

Harry got out their Suspicious White Powder and cut off a tiny piece of it. He placed it on a piece of plastic wrap, and poured one drop of potion.

"Item: Unknown."

They were silent for a few moments.

"Try again," said Hermione.

Harry did so, but got the same result.

"This better not be wizard ricin," muttered Hermione.

"Don't worry, if it were ricin we'd already be dead, or at least I would be." Hermione didn't seem nearly as comforted by this as he'd hoped.

"Harry, the spell can recognize Death Fruit but not this powder? That's terrifying!"

"More like exhilarating," said Harry. "The likelihood of this powder being extremely rare and valuable just skyrocketed. We'll be the first people to figure out what it does, and it could be exactly what we're looking for."

Harry was over the moon with excitement, but Hermione brought him crashing back down. "We need to show this to McGonagall."

"Why?" said Harry. "Based on all my experiments, this powder appears inert, and it won't hurt anyone. I even tried to test its combustion point, but I couldn't even make smoke. Of course, I will be more cautious now that I know how rare it is."

Hermione was shaking her head. "We have no idea what this powder does, and you'd be putting your classmates in danger if something goes wrong."

"Honestly, I think you're being a little paranoid."

"Paranoid? I was carrying around poison in my bag next to my snacks!"

"Well, you can metabolize toxins, so what does it matter?"

She glared at him. "We need to show McGonagall everything. The entire closet."

"What?" Harry burst out. "Now wait just a minute! Those items are necessary for my research into understanding magic. And now that we finally have the tools to identify their purpose, you want me to blithely hand them off to someone else?"

She shook her head. "The safety of the school comes first. Even if you know what the items are, you can't predict how they'll react to your testing."

"You're assuming I'm not safe with my testing, which is not true. I could provide plenty of evidence to the contrary. Now, question: it's important that my rockets get to space. Agree or disagree?"

"Harry—"

"And if I give up all my quest items, I'll have literally nothing to research with. I'll have to start from square one. If that delays my quest for immortality, then that's a net detriment to the school, is it not?"

Hermione huffed a sigh, while Harry continued on.

"So, logically speaking, we need to weigh the consequences of this delay against the minimal danger to students posed by my research—"

"Question," said Hermione acerbically. "Harry Potter tends to rationalize everything unethical that he wants to do by making it for the greater good, does he not? Even if the only thing he's being asked to do is let a reasonable, responsible adult take a look at all the dangerous items he's been experimenting on in her school?"

Crap.

Harry sputtered. "It's more than—"

"Which is actually very illogical, since Harry knows that this adult has years of experience dealing with dark magic and might actually know what she's doing. Not to mention, she has a moral requirement to take care of all the students at this school. Including you, Harry Potter. She's not just going to take all your stuff for no reason."

Harry's jaw was working. "She doesn't trust me, Hermione. Her authoritative script won't bend for me, and she won't let me keep most of the items I really need. Even if I promised her I'd use safety precautions she just…wouldn't change her mind. She's logical and reasonable, but perhaps not the right sort of reasonable for this situation."

Hermione's gaze softened slightly, but she still said, "Well, I'm disappointed that you care more about keeping a bunch of stuff you won in a game than about doing what you know is right." She took a step closer. "As painful as it might be, you can't work with complete autonomy. You want her to believe in you? Prove you're trustworthy."

Double crap.

Harry tried to come up with a counter to that, but he could feel his resolve crumbing. First, because she seemed to cut through his arguments like butter, which would be admirable if it wasn't so frustrating. He was starting to agree with her in spite of himself.

But the real reason he was caving in—the secret, awful reason he could never reveal to anyone—was that Hermione always got her way with him. He intensely disliked it when she was disappointed in him, and to fix that he would do whatever she wanted. He was basically carrying on this fight to prove he still had a spine.

That's when he realized he didn't need to win—he needed to bargain.

There was a simple psychological strategy that had worked for him on several occasions. If you make big demands, and those are denied, a smaller one might be accepted as a guilted concession.

"Okay, so…how about this?" said Harry, trying to look remorseful. "I'll show McGonagall all the dangerous items in my closet."

"And the ones on your table," she pointed out. "And in your pouch and on the bookshelf."

"Right," he said. "But I will keep back ten completely non-dangerous items. They've proved useful, and would be difficult to replace."

"That's it?" said Hermione.

Harry nodded.

"Okay," she said, and Harry sighed in relief inwardly. "But remember that favour I got for the duelling game? I'm using that to cancel out that concession."

"Hermione!" said Harry sharply, his fist banging the table. "That's not how that works!"

She flinched, and he realized his voice was loud enough to carry through the room. Harry felt a flash of fear. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…I'm sorry."

She looked down and said softly, "I'm going to show McGonagall the powder, since it's my quest item. As for the rest, I'll leave that up to you. I'm not going to tell you what to do." Her eyes met his cautiously. "If you take some time to think about it, I know you'll make the right decision."

Oh man, he thought, as she left the room. I am so screwed.