After their spectacular failure at getting into the forest, Fred and George either gave up on their potion, or, more likely, found another source of ingredients, because they didn't bother Harry again. The next four days, as Christmas approached, Harry spent in a flurry of homework rivaled only by the falling snow outside. In between essays, she finished making or ordering her gifts. Professor McGonagall had been only too happy to help her Transfigure a few of the presents, going so far as to ask how much of the book she had gotten through. Every day she would play two or sometimes even three games of chess with Ron, depending on how long they lasted. The enmity between them had largely faded, and they had somehow mutually, and non-verbally, agreed to be simple acquaintances. Ron was millions of times better than her at chess, but by Christmas Eve, Harry felt she had improved from where she had been before. Even Alex wasn't as good as Ron, and he routinely thrashed her at home. Of course, that could be taken to mean that Harry was absolute rubbish at the game.

On Christmas morning, she was woken by Fred and George bursting into her room, shouting, "Presents! Presents! Come on, Potter, up!"

"Whassapinin?" Ron had also been awoken by his elder brothers.

"Presents!"

Fred and George had obviously already gone through theirs, and were wearing identical blue sweaters, one with a large yellow G, and the other with an F. She had a funny feeling that they had swapped, and Fred was wearing George's sweater while George was wearing Fred's, but couldn't be entirely sure. "Here, take this." George, or Fred wearing George's sweater, tossed a wrapped bundle to her.

She caught it and glanced over at the table clock she'd brought from home. Five o'clock. "Did you two even go to bed last night?" she asked as she carefully unwrapped the present. From his bed, a wide-awake Ron was ripping the paper off with abandon.

Fred and George took over Seamus' bed, between Harry's and Ron's, and watched as the two of them opened their gifts. The one George had tossed her was from her father. He'd sent a grey leather journal embossed with her initials, as well as three swan-feather quills, a bottle of expensive Italian ink, and a book titled Charms and Transfiguration: Binding them Together. The note explained that the journal was for taking notes in class, and that it was charmed to stay slim even though it had more than a hundred pages in it. It was a very practical gift, something her father liked to give her. It was also, she noted, safe¸ and something she had been expecting ever since she first told her father she was struggling with Charms. As she crawled to the end of her bed to get to the rest of her gifts, she noticed that Ron's pile was quite a bit larger than her own.

The rest of her gifts were much less expensive than her father's. Fred and George had banded together and bought her a packet of Dung-Bombs and a small container of her favorite candy, chocoballs. Hermione had sent her a thick almanac of magical creatures, an embroidered band of fabric marking the page dedicated to mountain trolls. Neville had given her a small potted bonsai with a label declaring it to be a miniature holly tree. Harry was touched by the thought Neville had put into his gift. Alex had, for lack of anything else, sent a package of Honeyduke's best chocolates. There was one last gift left. To Harry's surprise, it was from Remus. She set aside the thick envelope that came with it for later, and opened the box. A beautiful winter cloak, midnight blue with intricate embroidery done in silver thread around the hems, lined with silvery white mink fur, lay inside.

"Wow," she said, getting up and trying it on. The weight of the cloak was comforting, and she knew it was much better quality than the one she'd gotten for the school uniform.

"Who's that from?" Fred asked lazily, watching as she strode over to the mirror.

"It looks expensive." Ron had finished unwrapping his presents and was watching as well.

"Remus," Harry answered.

"Oh, yes, Remus. I've heard all about him, old chap," Fred said airily, waving his hand.

"Lovely fellow," George agreed.

Harry refrained from rolling her eyes. "He raised me and my brother for the first five years of our lives, after our mum died," she said quietly, returning to her bed and gathering up her gifts. She set them on her bedside table, positioning the bonsai so it received the most sun from the window, and joined Fred and George on Seamus' bed, the envelope clutched in her hands. She tucked her feet under her in an attempt to warm them up after stepping on the cold stone floor.

"So why haven't we heard of him before?" George asked, scooting over so Harry could sandwich herself between them.

"Dad kicked him out," she said with a shrug. "Fixed the wards and everything so none of his letters could get through either. I haven't heard from him in six years."

"What'd he do?" Ron asked, more perceptive to the unspoken meaning in Harry's words than she would have expected.

"Nothing," she spat out, then winced. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Ron said immediately, obviously regretting asking. "Thanks for the Chocolate Frogs, by the way." Harry nodded. She'd gotten each of her roommates a package of Chocolate Frogs. Neville, as one of her best friends, had also received a rare book titled Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean, and three beraht auralis seeds, notoriously difficult to grow. Harry doubted Professor Sprout even had any, but one thing her father wasn't sparse with was his distribution of money for gifts, and the Potter greenhouses, derelict as they were, still had a well-stocked supply of expensive plants and seeds.

She'd sent Hermione a bookstand that she'd designed herself so that it would hold a book open to a certain page, and would turn pages on command. Professor McGonagall had helped her Transfigure it from the legs of a broken chair so old that no one wanted to repair it, and had consulted Professor Flitwick for the charms necessary. Harry had chosen to use wood for the base material since she'd read in Transfiguration Lessons for the Newfound Prodigy that using like materials for a transfiguration, or at the very least objects of similar shape and mass, made the actual morphing more successful and longer lasting. Although it had taken a few tries, and the transfiguration hadn't held for more than thirty seconds the first time because she'd made one too many flicks of her wand, Harry had finally gotten a product she thought Hermione would enjoy, and that Professor McGonagall assured her would last for at least fifty years, based on a very complex Arithmantical algorithm that Harry despaired of ever understanding.

Fred and George had each received ten galleons, and a note telling them, in no uncertain terms, to "just buy the flippin' ingredients" the next time they felt like wandering into the Forest. She'd also hidden their real gifts, new leather Beaters' gloves, in their Quidditch lockers. The next time they had practice, they'd find them. Her father had been sent a large bar of Honeyduke's Finest Dark Chocolate, his main indulgence besides the occasional shot of goblin-brewed rum, and a glass rose that she had Transfigured herself, even if Professor McGonagall had helped her quite a bit. Harry was very proud of the rose - the stem was green, the thorns sharp enough to pierce skin, and the petals delicate enough that the light filtered through in soft waves. After great deliberation, Harry had decided on pink for the bloom, which was only partially unfolded. Professor McGonagall had been full of praise for the Transfiguration work, and had even offered to start extra lessons at the beginning of her second year if she scored high enough on the end-of-term exams.

As thanks for all of the help Professor McGonagall had given her, Harry sent a box of chocolates, and, after great deliberation, a cat-nip mouse. Fred and George had told her during one of Wood's long-winded explanations at Quidditch practice that the Transfiguration professor was also a cat Animagus.

Harry had had the most difficulty finding a gift for Alex. In the end, she'd sent him the newest novel starring Auggie Anderson, legendary explorer of ancient ruins and part-time detective, and a large case of his favorite candy, sugar quills. She'd made sure to order the ones that came in different flavors, picking out his favorites like lemon, orange, mint, and, to her own disgust, pineapple. She added a few assorted quills for his friends, since she was fairly sure they didn't have sugar quills or Honeyduke's in Andorra.

Although she wanted to read the letter from Remus, it would have to wait. She didn't want to read it while others were watching her, since she didn't know how she would react. Fred and George, however, had different plans.

"Put it on!" They had dragged a maroon sweater with a large yellow R on it out from beneath a stack of gifts on Ron's bed and were shoving it in his arms.

"All right, all right," he said with a scowl, but put it on anyways.

"Should we get Perce?" George asked with a wicked grin.

"Most definitely."

"I'll just stay here for a moment," Harry said as Fred and George levered themselves off the bed and started to their elder brother's room. Ron gave Harry and the letter she held in her hands a look.

"I'll go with them," he said, and scurried after them, leaving Harry alone in the room. As the door closed behind him, she shoved her finger under the flap and ripped the envelope open. Remus's perfect penmanship met her eyes, familiar from her lessons all those years ago.

Dec. 23
Dearest Harry,

I know it has been a long time since last we saw each other. I hope this gift will
count as six years of birthdays and Christmas's made up for.

Do not blame your father for exiling me and anything I sent from the manor. If
he had not shunned me, I would have left myself. You and Alex are too precious
to be in danger from the likes of me. One mistake could only lead to another, and
this life is not for you.

Since that day, I have thought of you almost constantly. I don't know if you were
ever told this, but Sirius was only your godfather. I am Alex's. It was simpler not
to tell the two of you, as you were too young. Now, you will hopefully understand
that I do not love either one of you more than the other.

The Familia Chordus ceremony never truly took place, as you and Alex were born
on the night of a full moon. Likewise, Alice Longbottom was never sworn in as your
godmother, nor Tabitha Diggory as Alex's. I never knew Tabitha well, but she was
Lily's mentor for her first year at Hogwarts, a Ravenclaw prefect if I remember
correctly, and was a bridesmaid at your parents' wedding. She even has a son now,
Cedric, who is a few years older than you and should be at Hogwarts.

I do not know where you are attending school, although I can only assume you are
at Hogwarts with your brother. If I were to take a guess, I would say you were either
Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, while your brother could be nothing but a lion.

The years have been hard. I know you are young, but you deserve nothing less than the
truth. With Sirius gone, I had no friends, no one to turn to for help, when I left Potter Estate.
I moved into the old cabin Sirius's great-uncle left him as a boy. It took a few years, but I
found a steady job in the Muggle town of Louth, in Lincolnshire. If any other wizards live here,
I am unaware of them. I work in a little bookshop, the only one in town, that specializes in rare
tomes.

Just so you know, even if you decide never to speak to me again, I tried for years to get a letter
to you. Owls simply came back with the letter still on their leg, and when I finally did connect my
house to the Floo, the connection never went through. I tried, I swear it upon Lily's grave.

About your mother. If I know James, he will never recover from her death. She was his world, and
he cannot get on with his life, no matter how much you and Alex mean to him. And never believe
that he doesn't love you. He does, even if it pains him to show it. He is but a shell of who he used to
be, and as such will refuse to speak of her to you in any length, so I will take the task up myself.

Lily was unfailingly kind, incredibly bright, loving, and, if possible, even more stubborn than your
father ever was or could hope to be. She loved you from the moment she found out she was having
twins, and deliberated over names for hours and hours. If you were a boy, your name would have
been Connor Charlus Potter, after your father's father and your mother's dead brother. He died as an
infant when she was only six. It will interest you to know that Alex would have been Elizabeth
Rebecca Potter. I do not know the significance of those names, just that they stem from her childhood
games with her sister, your aunt.

Your Aunt is a Muggle. Her name is Petunia Dursley now, as she has been married since a year before
your parents' wedding. I believe she has a single son, a few months older than you and Alex. I do not
know his name. All that I know about your aunt is that she and Lily were very close as girls, until she
received her Hogwarts letter. After that, Lily refused to say much, only that Petunia disliked magic and
estranged herself except for Christmas cards and birthday gifts. I saw your Aunt at Lily's funeral, however,
and she was distraught, so it can be safely said that she still loved her. Do not be surprised if she does not
know of you. James did not attend the funeral, and did not bring you with him. No one spoke to Petunia, so
there is no way she could know that she had a niece and a nephew.

Lily was, in a word, amazing. She told me in our seventh year that she had figured out I was a werewolf by
the end of first year, a whole six months before James and Sirius finally pieced together the clues. She never
told a soul, and never treated me any different for it. Perhaps it was the Muggle upbringing, but she never
succumbed to believing the stigma surrounding people like me. You, and in part Alex, have inherited her
open-mindedness.

Six years gone is a long time, and I can only beg for your forgiveness, but know that I will always be here for
you and Alex. The enclosed is for you; I have also sent a copy to Alex. Happy Christmas.

Love,
Remus

With shaking fingers, Harry overturned the envelope; a single photo dropped out. She and Alex, at maybe two or three years of age, snuggled together in a crib, faces turned towards each other and little chubby fists each grasping at the stuffed stag between them. That early in life, the only difference between the two of them was their hair color, Harry's black and Alex's brown. Even their haircuts and pajamas were the same.

Emotions raged through her: foremost were anger and disbelief, that Remus thought he could merely apologize and be back in her life. Six years, more than half her life, spent without the man! But in the back of her mind, she knew it wasn't his fault; her father had fixed the wards so nothing Remus sent could get through, not even a birthday card or Christmas gift. And not telling her that he was Alex's godfather - Harry knew that she would have understood perfectly well what that meant at the age of five.

She didn't know what to do. Alex, she knew, would forgive him quickly, as was his nature. But she was different; Harry knew how to hold grudges, Draco Malfoy being the prime example. Even so, she wished she had someone to talk to. Alex would just tell her to forgive him, and her father would forbid her from ever having contact with Remus ever again. Harry was at a loss.

Her musings of what to do were interrupted by the twin wearing the sweater with an F. "Breakfast should be ready by now," he said, then caught sight of her troubled face. "Er - Wait just a moment, George!" So they are wearing their own sweaters, Harry thought inanely.

Fred entered the room and sat next to Harry on Seamus's bed. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Harry just twitched the letter. The photograph fell to the bed, and Fred picked it up. "That's you and Alex?" he asked, inspecting the two young children. There wasn't much movement in it - occasionally, Alex would try and pull the stag closer to him but the picture-Harry wasn't letting him.

"Yeah. Remus sent it."

Fred handed the photo back to her, and she tucked it and the letter back into the envelope before throwing it to her own bed with a quick flick of the wrist, much like one would use to skip a stone over water.

"I don't know much about these situations," Fred started haltingly, and Harry could tell his was telling the truth. "My own family is - well - " he paused then soldiered on "- we haven't had so much drama in our lives. The worst that happens is us," he added with a grin. When Harry tried to get up, he pulled her back. "Listen, Harry," he said, "This Remus bloke, whoever he is, sounds like he really cares about you. He waited six years to be able to get in contact with you, and I'll bet this isn't the only photo of you and your brother that he has. He misses you, and I think you do too."

She tore herself away. "I'm fine. You said something about breakfast?"

"What - oh, yeah." Her fast change of topic had startled him. "I'll go tell the other's that you're just getting dressed."

Harry managed to put off thinking about Remus's letter for the rest of Christmas break. Christmas day itself was filled with Weasley cheer. Even Percy assented to a snow-ball fight that lasted well into the afternoon, although he left before they could cajole him into building a snow-fort with them. Harry, Ron, Fred, and George stayed out until just before dinner, and raced upstairs to the showers to get warm before sitting down to a sumptuous feast unrivaled by any Harry had seen before.

The days after Christmas were spent indoors. Clouds had rolled in and seemed to want to stay put. Snow fell steadily into the new year, while the twins whispered together in corners and sent multiple unreadable glances at Harry. She and Ron were getting on better than ever, especially now that Harry had her own set of chessmen, found in one of the crackers on during the Christmas feast. He still beat her, though, and the one time Percy had tried to help her it had been an absolute rout.

The second to last day of break, Ron seemed to realize that homework wouldn't do itself. For the next two days, he could be found at the same table in the common room, scribbling madly at essays and charts and diagrams for various classes. Harry only had to revise her own work, which took hardly any time at all, and then spent the rest of the time pondering what could possible be hidden under the trapdoor. She even went so far as to sneak back to the third-floor corridor and press her ear to the door, only to scurry away when fierce growling started up.

As soon as Hermione and Neville had their trunks back in their rooms, Harry dragged them over to a shadowed corner of the common room and told them her theory of the Gringotts break-in and the dog.

"So," Hermione said slowly, her eyebrows furrowed, "you think that whatever was in Gringotts, whatever Hagrid took out, is here? In Hogwarts?" She looked slightly skeptical.

Neville, on the other hand, agreed with Harry. "He's got a point," Neville told Hermione seriously. "My gran always said that the safest place for something, besides Gringotts, is Hogwarts."

Hermione still wasn't convinced. "Say you're right," she said. "What could be so precious that not even Gringotts could keep it safe. And who would want something so bad as to risk getting caught. A Comprehensive History of Gringotts said some really horrid things about what happens to people who get caught trying to steal from the goblins." Her mouth twisted in disgust. "Some of them were really cruel - on par with punishments the Greek gods thought up for those who ended up in Tartarus." Neville paled, and Harry couldn't help the way her gut clenched as she remembered the Greek Mythology section of the Potter library. Prometheus and the eagle; Tantalus and his everlasting, unquenchable yearnings; Sisyphus and his rock; Ixion and his burning wheel.

Harry quickly changed the subject, and listened as Hermione and Neville took turns describing their holiday adventures. Hermione had gone skiing in the Alps with her parents - something which amused Neville no end, picturing Muggles sliding about on slats of wood. Harry asked what it was like, and Hermione assured her that it was very similar to flying. Neville, on the other hand, had stayed at home for the holiday, and even rushed upstairs to bring down a pot of dirt, which he said contained the three seeds Harry had given him. The rest of the time until dinner was spent comparing their gifts; Hermione, in particular, was impressed with Harry's small haul, especially the beautiful cloak and Charms and Transfiguration: Binding them Together.

Going back to class was painful for everyone. Many of the students had only finished their homework the night before, and were sluggish in the halls, which led to back-ups on the stairways, and generally made everyone late to class, which in turn irritated the teachers. Even Professor Flitwick, generally agreed to be the most understanding of the professors, docked at least twenty points from his own house for tardiness.

In fact, the only good thing about returning to class was the large decrease in free time. Harry no longer had excess time to brood about what may or may not be under the trap door. Oliver Wood was becoming increasingly frantic about their upcoming Quidditch match in February, and had started scheduling practices at the same pace they had left off at - at least three times a week.

It was nearly the end of January before anything of interest happened, even though it came in the form of a letter from Hagrid inviting Fred, George, and Harry to tea. Hermione immediately begged to come along, especially because she'd never really met the man before. Neville agreed reluctantly, but brightened up when Harry pointed out that Hagrid often went into the Forbidden Forest, and would know many of the plants native to the area.

When the day came, however, Fred and George couldn't come. "Sorry," Fred said as he and George waylaid Harry, Hermione, and Neville on their way to History of Magic. "Got caught setting off a few dungbombs near Snape's classroom," he panted out before they raced off for whichever class they had next.

So it was only the first years who made their way through the thick snow to Hagrid's cabin. Harry knocked, and a volley of barks greeted them.

"Down, Fang, down," they could hear Hagrid commanding. Neville gulped.

"It's all right," Harry assured him. "The worst thing about him is his drool." Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"Where's th'twins?" Hagrid asked as he let them in to the warm, dry cabin.

"They've got detention," Harry said as she unwound her scarf from around her neck and pulled off her gloves to pet Fang, who was snuffling around her shoes with interest.

"Shoulda' known," Hagrid chuckled.

"I got the tea all ready, though, an' a few biscuits I made special." Tea was poured and Neville took a biscuit before Harry could warn him off. He made do, though, dipping it into his tea after the first, somewhat painful, bite.

"Hagrid," Harry said, "These are my best friends, Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom."

"Nice ter meet yeh," Hagrid greeted them politely. "Longbottom, is it? I remember Profess'r Sprout sayin' somat abou' yeh. Good with plan's, I think she said. Righ' impressed with yer, she is." Neville flushed at the praise, and Harry jumped in.

"Yes, Neville the best in our year at Herbology. Better than some of the second years, even." Harry watched with amusement as Neville's ears turned bright red. Hermione was fighting hard to conceal a smirk. "And Hermione's the best at Charms," she added, concealing a smirk of her own as Hermione's already flushed cheeks darkened.

"Never did like Charms much meself," Hagrid said thoughtfully. "Always was better a' the more hands-on subjects. Care o' Magical Creatures was my favorite, before…," he trailed off.

"Before what?" Harry asked, knowing she was prying but pushing anyways.

"Never yeh min', now." Hagrid glanced nervously at a flowery pink umbrella leaning next to the door by a crossbow and a large, orange and brown scarf.

The silence in the cabin was broken only by the soft crackling of the fire and the sound of Fang whining next to Hagrid's knee. The giant man passed the dog a biscuit.

"Hagrid," Hermione asked, eying the dog curiously, "What kind of dog is Fang? I've never seen one so big."

"Oh. Er. Some type o' boarhound, I think. Must have sommat else in 'im, though, 'cause he's never been sick and eats all sorts of odd things." He chuckled fondly and patted the dog - who was gnawing on the biscuit - on his head. "Righ' good companion, though, and 'e can track real well too if he's a mind to. Bloody coward, though," he added as an afterthought.

"Do you know much about dogs?" Harry asked, getting an idea. Hagrid seemed to like large animals, and the largest animal Harry had ever seen was currently in the third-floor corridor up in the school.

"A fair bit," Hagrid said, the small amount of skin visible above his bushy beard and mustache coloring slightly. "I'm a dab 'and w'mos'ly any creature I come 'cross in th'forest. I've always wanted a dragon, though." Harry and Neville exchanged dumbfounded looks. Growing up as they did, they'd had a healthy fear of dragons, chimeras, and the other more dangerous magical creatures instilled since childhood, and to want one for a pet was tantamount to saying you liked to jump out of fifth-floor windows for fun.

Hermione, however, seemed to pick up immediately on what Harry was after. "I was reading a book over break," she started, carefully putting her teacup back on its saucer, "and I came across a Cerberus." Hagrid flinched, but only Harry saw it. "I never knew they were actually real, you know. I mean, I'd read all about them before I found out I was a witch in the Greek Mythology unit in primary school, but I'd never thought…" she trailed off, and Harry saw how well she was manipulating Hagrid. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about them, would you? I mean, it's just so fascinating." Harry stared at Hermione in shock; the other girl was lying better than a Slytherin!

Hagrid, who at first had looked guilty, was now beaming. "I know quite a bit abou' Cerberi," he said proudly. "Bough' one just last spring from a Greek chappie down in the Hog's Head. Leant 'er to Profess'r Dumbledore ter - " he cut off hurriedly. "I shouldn' have said tha'," he said nervously. "I should not 'ave said that."

"You mean you own that monster!?" Neville asked, and Harry winced. Neville was without a doubt her best friend, but she would be the first to admit he could be slow on the uptake.

"What do yer know abou' Fluffy?" Hagrid asked in surprise.

"That thing has a name?" Hermione asked incredulously. Hagrid's beetle-black eyes shot to her.

"Look, we accidentally had a run in with, er, Fluffy, a while back," Harry said, and then added, hoping to throw Hagrid off, "What's he guarding?"

"She," Hagrid corrected automatically. "I mean, nothin'. She ain't guardin' nothin'! An' if yeh know what's good fer yeh, yeh'll keep yer noses out of it! What Fluffly's guardin' is strictly between Profess'r Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel!"

Harry wanted to leap from her seat and shriek with joy, but contained it. Neville, however, wasn't quite as apt. "Who's Nicholas Flamel?"

Hagrid blanched. "No one," he growled. Then, "Look a'the time. I promised, er, Profess'r Sprout I'd get 'er some, er, Erfwin sprigs." He leapt to his feet, no mean task for a man his size, and pulled his large mole-skin coat on. "Come on, now, 'urry up. Can't be out too long in this cold."

Hagrid ushered the three of them out the door before Harry could even manage to put her gloves on. "'Ave a nice evenin'!" Hagrid called after them. "Come back any time fer tea!" And off he stomped into the forest, Fang on his heels looking mournfully back at the lit windows of the hut.

"Well," said Hermione, rubbing her hands together to try and keep them warm. Harry fastened her cloak - the one Remus had given her, since she'd finally decided to forgive him - and passed her scarf to Hermione, who accepted it with a grateful smile. "That was informative."

"D'you know who Nicholas Flamel is, then?" Harry asked. She had never even heard of the name.

To her surprise, Hermione frowned. "No," she admitted. "But the library will have something, I'm sure." She started off for the castle, intent on getting to the familiar stacks. Neville and Harry followed behind her.

"What are you frowning for?" Harry asked Neville, who was indeed frowning.

"Erfwin can only be harvested in daylight," he said. Harry automatically looked up. The sun, what little they could see, was just starting to sink below the horizon.

Jan. 5
Dear Alex,

Thank you for the Honeydukes - it was delicious, and my roommates all like it too. How was your Christmas?
Satisfactory? Did you get anything from Remus? Did you write anything to him? Good luck in school!

Love,
Harry

Jan 13
Harry -

My holidays were good. Christmas isn't such a big fuss over here, since some people don't even celebrate it. Like
I said in August, we only get a few days off for Christmas, but I've discovered that we get lots of other days off for
different holidays. Like pretty soon we get two whole days off for Chinese New Year! And you're right - there are no
sugar quills here, so your gift was very appreciated. Simon had never even heard of them, if you can believe it. Dad
got me a journal, some ink, and boring book on Transfiguration. Back to the Basics, or something like that. It'll be
useful, I suppose.

Yes, Remus sent me a gift. It's a really nice chess set - black and white marble! He taught me how to play, you know,
back when he was still with us. Rémi is very jealous, since he has been playing chess since he was only three. We've had
some very close matches in our free time, and so far he's always won.

Don't worry about Remus - I only told him what we've been telling everyone else. I told him that I was at Hogwarts, in
Gryffindor. Didn't say anything about my friends or Quidditch, though. He even wrote back, telling me about Mum and
Dad when they were at school, and a bit about his new life in Louth. Did you know that Tabitha Diggory is my Godmother?
I looked her up, and apparently she has a son only a few years older than us, but I couldn't find anything else out. The
Library here, while well stocked, doesn't do much in the way of old Daily Prophet's. And I can't believe Mum would have
named me Elizabeth! It's weird to think that might have ended up with you the boy and me the girl. But then wouldn't you
be Alex and I be Harry? It's all very weird and confusing.

Sorry for the rambling - it's nice to get all this off my chest since I can't exactly talk about it with anyone else. Good luck to
you, too! And don't write for a while. My friends look at me weird whenever I say I'm writing to my brother.

-Alex

P.S. Are you mad that Remus is my godfather? Please, don't be.

Jan. 30
Dear Remus,

I'm sorry for the delay. I've been thinking.

I'll forgive you, but only so long as I can see you again. Maybe this summer? In Diagon Alley? I'm sure Alex will agree with me, and Dad will
hardly notice we've gone since he's at work most of the time anyways. Why didn't you ever tell me Alex is your godson? I would have liked
to know, even then. I would have understood.

I hope your holidays weren't too bad, and I'm sorry I didn't think to get you anything. The cloak really is beautiful, and very warm. I wear it
on weekends, since during school we're supposed to wear the standard uniform. I'm actually at Asclepius Academy, which is located in
Andorra. My best subjects are Transfiguration and Potions since our Defensive Magic professor is dead boring and stutters, but I like
Transfiguration the best since the Potions professor can be a bit rude. Thanks again!

Love,
Harry