'Should we try to look for Flamel in the library again?' Harry asked half-heartedly, pushing up from his unkempt bed. The first year boys' dormitory was gloriously empty, except for him and Ron, who was rummaging through his trunk, seemingly very keen on finding something.

'Who?' asked Ron, the tip of his tongue slightly slipping out. He was so concentrated his freckles clustered heavily atop his nose and cheeks, which stretched into a beaming grin as he appeared to have found whatever he'd been searching for. 'Look, I've found my granddad's old chess board - knew it was in here somewhere. Have you played wizard chess before?'

Harry's eyes widened as he looked at the battered wooden board in Ron's hands, what seemed like miniature people dangling from it with dark expressions on their faces, scowling up at Ron. 'Never,' Harry grinned, all thoughts of Nicholas Flamel firmly flying out the window.

They spent the day in the best chintz chairs, mollified by the warming heat of the fire and snacking on whatever they could pocket at breakfast or lunch. Harry lost badly all throughout the day, his chessmen nearly running off the board by the end, brandishing their little fists at him. Harry didn't blame them - he'd probably be fuming as well if he'd had to be smacked and dragged all over the board by Ron's bloodthirsty troops.

Nobody disturbed them, as Percy was tucked away in his dormitory, nose stuck to his textbooks ('He wants twelve OWLs,' Ron had told him with a heavy eye roll, 'or he won't have a chance to be Head Boy. Although I think they'd do him a kindness overlooking him, mind. His head's already too big as it is.'), while Fred and George were out 'exploring', as they put it. There was almost no other Gryffindor there to interfere with their fun.

'I'm tired,' Ron yawned, hours later, as he pushed the old board aside lazily.

'Yes, winning must be exhausting,' Harry grinned as he too dusted off the chessmen Seamus Finnigan had left behind in their dormitory. Harry made a mental note to return them to Seamus and probably buy his own set, as it seemed impossible to get those particular ones to obey him - as odd as the thought of actually owning things still felt to him. It was, at times, still difficult to wrap his brain around it and revel in the idea that what he finally had, Harry did not need to share with Dudley or, worse, live in fear that it might be snatched away from him; the Dursleys would sooner eat dung than come near Harry's magical possessions.

Ron grinned back at him, scratching the back of his ginger head. 'Yeah, it really is, isn't it? Crumpet, Harry?' he followed eagerly, twisting to look over the chair at the pile of treats towering on a nearby table. It was the result of the two of them superbly coordinating with Fred and George, who had also brought in toasting forks - although from where exactly, Harry had no clue.

Harry swiped two for each from the table and they properly stabbed their crumpets with a pair of toasting forks, listening as they made a satisfying sizzling sound once Harry and Ron had moved them over the fire. They sat back in their chairs, thoroughly relaxed after one of the best days Harry had ever had. It was better than any Christmas he'd been left behind in Privet Drive by the Dursleys, better than he had ever dreamed it could be.

Black as dark as ink coated the windows now, that odd time of the year when you think it must be close to midnight, but it's actually just past four o'clock. The candlelight glimmered over the paper chains hanging loosely on the walls, over the Christmas decorations strewn about, flickering down over Ron's red hair. The fire roared cosily as they sat there and chatted, the common room filling with the delicious smell of toasted food.

'Made any Christmas wishes yet, Harry?' Ron asked around a healthy bite of crumpet.

Harry swallowed and answered without missing a beat, 'Yeah, wished Malfoy won't return to Hogwarts when the holidays are over.'

Ron snorted loudly.

'Maybe if we sent a note with Hedwig now, Hermione would be able to enchant the barrier,' he snickered, waving his fork above the lively flames.

'Imagine him having to, I don't know, drive a car all the way to Scotland.'

'Reckon he'd rather fly his way on a broom to Hogwarts,' Ron drawled as he inspected his fresh crumpet, sticking it better on the fork before he shoved it back into the fire.

'Bloody brilliant, bet his arse would freeze off,' Harry grinned, thoroughly enjoying the image of Draco Malfoy, his teeth chattering, as he zoomed to Hogwarts stuck to his broom. If they were lucky enough, he might even slip off and fall, Harry thought as he kicked back into an even better position.

'Funny though, 'cause no one would be able to tell if it's his face missing or his arse. They look the same.'

They roared with loud, boisterous laughter, their eyes scrunched with mirth. There was no one to tell them off for making such noise, no one to scold them for the crumbs they made all over the rug and chairs, absolutely no one to chastise them for ruining their appetite eating snacks before dinner. Even if their plans were ridiculous and they knew what they were plotting was probably a far stretch from reality, they still delighted in it. And that, to Harry, was absolute bliss.

'My only problem with this plan is,' Harry tried to say through a particularly ambitious mouthful, 'that it would only delay his arrival at Hogwarts. What we need is for him to be kicked out.'

'Too right,' Ron nodded sagely. 'What if we started a rumour that he's selling doxy droppings as drugs?'

'Not strong enough, is it?' Harry finally managed to swallow and cambered out of the chair, searching for the thermos of hot chocolate Fred and George had left around. 'I mean, Snape would probably say Malfoy had invented a new potion remedy.'

'I could live with it if it were a potion to cure slimy hair,' Ron grinned as Harry nearly choked on a big glug of hot chocolate. 'Alright, what if we charmed the school pumpkins to look like,' he swiftly brought his hands together in a crude gesture Harry reckoned would send Mrs Weasley flying into a tremendous fit of rage if she ever saw Ron do it, 'and then say he did it?'

'Would be brilliant, but reckon it won't get Malfoy expelled,' Harry grinned, setting the thermos back down on the table and resuming his seat by the fire.

'No, but it would still make me feel good,' Ron pointed out and Harry felt compelled to agree. He grabbed his toasting fork and banged it against Ron's, crumbs of crumpets spilling in their laps.

'Here's to feeling good,' he said.

'Yeah, here's to feeling good,' Ron echoed, and munched on his snack again.

A strong waft of cinnamon hit them as the portrait hole swung, and Fred and George clambered through, pushing aside a thick garland of paper chains hanging low above the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Their noses were very red, the wooly red and golden scarves they had wrapped around them imbibed in freshly snowed flakes.

'Where have you been?' Ron chewed loudly at them.

'Up to no good, of course,' Fred shrugged flippantly, and dropped into the sofa, quickly followed by his twin, who'd been pocketing a wonky looking piece of paper; Harry thought it seemed strangely like a map, but oddly blank.

'What's that?' he asked, green eyes following George's hands.

George looked at Fred, and they both scowled. 'We like you, Harry, but keep your nose out of our business.'

'Or we might have to prod it with that toasting fork,' Fred added, grinning.

'Oh, cheer up, it's Christmas!' Ron said as he polished off the last remaining food on his own fork.

'Yeah, and we're starving,' George sighed, peeling his mitts, scarf, and coat off. The red smudges on his cheeks began to dissipate, warmed off by the friendly fire, his freckle dappled face now more relaxed. There was a distinct pinch of kindness hiding underneath their mischief, and Harry reckoned he saw a bit of Mrs Weasley in the glint of their eyes.

'Right,' said Fred with purpose as he lightly smacked his knees and hopped up, 'I'll get Perfectly Pompous Prick from upstairs and we can all go down to dinner.'

Harry joined Ron and George in their laughter as strong bickering erupted from Percy's dormitory, feeling a certain warmth and giddiness building in his chest. It would soon be Christmas Eve and, although he didn't expect to receive anything this year, he would still be very happy and content. His life had never been this good before and Harry was determined to make the most of it - after all, he now had friends to enjoy evenings like this with, and that, to him, was more valuable than any present he could ever get.