The last part: Christmas Day...the story is now completed..its the longest part in this story..i dont know if Hermione and Ron got Harry anything for Christmas his first year..but i figured at age of eleven they didn't exchange gifts..since they wouldn't be able to really shop for gifts..they just met each other that year...and they might not have the money to shop for gifts..i know i didn't always get my friends presents for Chirstmas..and at the young age of eleven i know i didn't get them anything..

Christmas Break was one of Harry's best days of his life. Moony and him went out together in the woods by Moony's little cabin to pick and take down a tree on Harry's second day there. Later that night, they decorated it together with Moony recalling several Christmas's with Harry's parents. The third day there, Harry and Moony sat down over the photo album and Harry was able to ask the questions he wanted too. Moony was more than willing to answer, unless it was about the black haired, gray eye man that was usually found standing or sitting next to Harry's father, James. Moony and Harry also went to Diagon Alley and Muggle London that day to do some Christmas shopping and just hang out together. Christmas Eve found them outside playing in the snow; snow angles, snowman, and snowball fights. All the while, Moony would tell Harry about a time at school where he did the same thing with Harry's father and their two friends. They went inside when the sun sank over the horizon. They sat on cushions on the ground in front of the fireplace with hot coco just talking, at peace and happy.

On Christmas morning, Harry was rudely woken up around six in the morning by someone shaking him and calling out to him. "Cub, wake up. It's Christmas. Harry, my cub, don't you want to open presents." Instead of opening his eyes, Harry groaned and turned away from the hands that continued to shake him awake. "I guess you don't want your Christmas presents?"

Harry lifted his head. "Presents? I got presents?" He asked. He had never gotten presents on Christmas before, unless you count a smelly sock, a coat hanger and an old boot from the Dursley's. This was a year of firsts. Harry realized. He got two presents for his birthday and now he was getting presents for Christmas. Could this year get any better?

Moony nodded and chuckled. "Of course you did, cub. Now, come and open them. I have quite the day planned for us."

Fully awake now, Harry slid out of bed. Moony walked out of them room, calling out over his shoulders. "Don't get changed yet, cub. What's Christmas without opening presents in your PJ's?"

Excited, Harry quickly followed him out of the room and down the hall to the living room. He paused when he saw the candle lit tree in the darken room. The only light came from the candles on the tree and the fireplace, but that was just enough light to see the small pile of presents waiting to be opened.

"Why don't you sit on the couch while I start breakfast, cub? It won't take long." Moony patted his shoulders before walking towards the kitchen. Harry sat on the couch, still eyeing the gifts under the tree. "I didn't know how you usually do Christmas at your relatives, cub. I hope you don't mind if I planned it the way my parents did it." Moony called out from the kitchen. Harry can hear the clinking of pots and pans and the swish as drawers opened and closed. It was a welcoming sound, homey and normal.

"I don't mind at all." Merlin knew how Harry didn't mind. Christmas at the Dursley's consisted of cooking breakfast and serving cookies to Dudley and Uncle Vernon, while watching enviously as his cousin tore open one gift after another. Then being sent to his cupboard under the stairs for the rest of the day. His uncle's present to him…no chores. "How…how did your parents do it?"

"I would wake up at six in the morning and sneak into the living room for a peak at the gifts before waking my parents up. My dad and I would wait on the couch as my mother started on breakfast. Once she was done, she would join us on the couch and we would talk to each other about Christmas, usually about past Christmas' together. But the talk had to be about Christmas. Then, we would dig into our presents. Once all the presents were done, my mother would finish up breakfast with my father helping while I explore some of my new gifts." Harry turned around on the couch to watch Moony in the kitchen. He seemed to be doing everything without magic and Harry wondered about that. "After we finish cleaning up breakfast, we would head outside. My parents and I would play in the snow for hours before coming back in for hot coco." Moony smiled fondly at the memory and Harry wished he was able to remember Christmas with his parents. "My father would then pull out one of our new muggle board games to play." Moony stopped what he was doing and faced Harry. "You see, cub, my father was a wizard and my mother was a muggle. He became fascinated with muggle games." He turned away to get right back onto getting breakfast ready. "So, every year we would get a new board game to play after we had our hot coco. Once we are done with the game, we would sit on the couch with a roaring fire. Sometimes we just sit in comfortable silence and sometimes we talked about anything that came to mind." Moony came out of the kitchen and sat down next to Harry. Harry twisted back around to face him. "Christmas day was the only day we spent all day together. My father was usually busy with one thing or another on most days."

"Why don't you use magic when getting breakfast ready?" Harry asked, hugging his knees to his chest.

"My mother was a muggle and couldn't use magic. I guess I just carried on the tradition of not using it when preparing a meal." Moony answered. " 'Nothing like doing things with your own two God-giving hands' was what my mother had said when my father asked if he should just use magic."

For the next hour, the two of them talked about anything that came to mind if it had something to do with Christmas. Moony had retold many of his own Christmas memories, including Harry's first Christmas. Harry couldn't help but notice that, like in his letters, he didn't use many names. It was always, 'your father, 'your mother', 'a very good friend of your parents and I', and 'a former friend of mine'. Harry wanted to ask who the 'very good friend of mine' and 'former friend of mine' was, but knew there must have been a reason Moony wasn't telling him and, since it was Christmas, Harry put it off for now.

Finally, Moony declared it time to open the presents. Moony slid off the couch to sit on the floor and Harry followed his example. "Harry, my cub, why don't you dig in first?"

Harry hesitated for only a second before picking up a small rectangular shaped gift. He glanced at the tag. It read: To: Remus Lupin…From: AD. He held it out for Moony. "It's for you."

Moony took the present and glanced at the tag. "Ah." He said, nodding in recognition. "Headmaster Dumbledore. I should have known his attempt for me to socialize more would not stop with inviting you over for Christmas."

Harry picked up another present. "You personally know Professor Dumbledore?" He asked as he glanced at the tag. It had his name on it and it was from Mrs. Weasley. Harry titled his head to the side in confusion.

Moony nodded as he started to peel off the wrapper. "Yes, that man did a lot for me. More they you can possibly know, more then I can possibly know. And it didn't stop with me leaving Hogwarts." He chuckle in amusement when he saw the book that laid underneath. He lifted it up for Harry to see. "Why Candy Should Be Considered Healthy. Professor Dumbledore loves his candy, Harry. If you ever want to get out of trouble, buy him lots of candy, especially muggle candy. Your father and a former friend of ours use to do that all the time."

Harry chuckled lightly. "I'll remember that." He turned back to his gift and slowly tore the wrapper off. It was a hand knitted sweater with a letter H on the front. Harry carefully studied the sweater. He had no idea why Ron's mother would send him a gift, but he felt extremely touched by it. He wished he had got her something. Harry gently put the sweater off to the side and took another present. Once again it was for him from Moony. He opened it and stared at the muggle board game called, 'Sorry'. He studied the font of the box before flipping it over to look at the back, trying to get the gist of the game. It looked very interesting and he couldn't wait to play it. From what Moony said earlier, Harry knew they would play it later in the day. He set the game aside and picked up another present. It was to Moony, from Hagrid. "Here, this one is for you too."

Moony looked at the tag. "Hagrid, huh. Another good old friend." He smiled fondly and opened the gift. Inside was another book, but it had not title on its front. "A journal." Moony said softly. He chuckled slightly with fondness. He glanced up and saw Harry glancing curiously at the empty journal. "Hagrid was gameskeeper when I was in school. We had many friendly visits and I spoke often of keeping a journal and how my journals fill up rather quickly. Since then, every year for Christmas, he would send a journal."

"That's nice of him." Harry said. He turned to his own present from Hagrid. It turned out to be a hand-carved, wooden flute. He blew into it, playing some nameless tone before setting it aside. He picked up another present. This one had an actually card and not just a tag. He read it out loud. "Your father left this in my procession before he died. Use it well." He glanced at Moony and he could tell by the look on his face that he had no clue what it was either. "There's no name on the card." He said, handing it over to Moony.

Moony study the handwriting. "It'll be alright, cub. I know who sent it and I can understand why the person didn't write down his or hers name. You may open it."

Curious, but trusting there was a good reason, Harry opened the package. A silvery long cloak took Harry by surprise. He stood up and held up the cloak to his face. "It's a cloak." He stated, confused why it would have any sort of importance. He looked up when he heard Moony chuckle fondly. Moony looked conflicted, amused and sad at the same time. He reached over and touched the hem of the cloak. He pulled back and sighed.

"So many times I've used that cloak with your father. He took it from your grandfather in his first year, you know. He said he was just 'borrowing' it and would return it after he was done with Hogwarts…only to find out two or three years later that your grandfather let him take it." He said with a fond smile. "It's a very useful cloak."

Harry looked down at the cloak, trying to find out what was so useful about it. "What does it do?"

"Why don't you put it on and see for yourself?" Moony chuckled at the irony of the sentence that was completely lost to Harry.

Harry gave one last look at the cloak before throwing it on. At first, he didn't realize any differences, but then he looked down and gasped in shook. "My body! It's gone!" He was a tad bit frightened. Where was his body? He quickly took the cloak off of him and looked back down. He sighed in relief when he saw that his body was back. He put the cloak back on and his body him vanished again. He looked up at Moony with a wide eye expression.

Moony laughed at Harry's expression. "It's an Invisibility Cloak, cub. It's been in your father's family for generations. They are extremely rare, especially ones that lasts generations. Most Invisibility Cloak charms wear off, but for some reason the Potter's cloak doesn't. Your father used it to sneak around school and played numerous of pranks without getting caught because of it. But I warn you, cub, we had a belief that Professor Dumbledore could see through the Cloak. So, be careful."

Harry nodded and sat back down. He folded the cloak gently and placed it on top of his Weasley sweater. He picked up another package. It was the last present for him, from Moony. He looked up. "But you already got me a gift." He pointed to the 'Sorry' board game.

Moony leaned back, using the front of the couch to rest his back. "Am I not allowed to give you more than one gift, Harry?" He nodded his head towards the present in Harry's hand. "That gift is more…meaningful and personal."

Harry glanced down at the present and gently undid the wrapper. Beneath the wrapping paper was an old pale blue book. The bottom corner of the cover was blackened and it looked like it was rescued from a fire. The picture on the cover looked was worn off and Harry could barely see the picture of an old man holding a book and a quill. The title of the book looked like it use to be gold, but was now faded into a pale yellow. 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'. Harry ran a hand down the cover, feeling the engraved letters of the title. Knowing there was some sort of history behind the book Harry looked up at Moony for him to explain.

"Before you read the inside description, cub, why don't you re-read the letter I sent you on May 7th, 1987. Near the end of the letter should explain the book."

Harry didn't get a chance to look through his stack of letters until close to bedtime. The day with Moony had been really fun, with one thing after another. Breakfast was the best breakfast Harry had ever had. It even beat Hogwarts breakfast, since he was usually extremely tired or finishing last minute homework during breakfast at Hogwarts. Moony and Harry then enjoyed a day outside, playing in the snow. Harry was winning during their snow ball fight, until Moony had tackled him into a huge pile of snow. They had also made a snowman, which Moony spelled to throw snowballs at Harry. Harry got him back when they went sledding on a hill a mile into the woods behind Moony's cabin. Harry had pushed him off his sled. They came back in three hours later and drank hot coco in the kitchen, talking and laughing over their day outside. Harry then got out his new game and they played 'Sorry' for a few more hours. Harry won two games and Moony won three. After the game, they sat on the couch in front of the fire and talked.

By the time Harry went to his room to get ready for bed, it was nine o'clock. The first thing he did after change into his PJ's was dig out his boxes of letters. After almost seven years of writing, Harry had to find other boxes once one box got filled. There were seven boxes marking each year. Three of the boxes were tin boxes, two of them were wooden, and the rest were small cardboard boxes. The 1987 box was one of the wooden boxes. Harry pulled out that box and searched threw it for May seventh. It was easy enough to find. Harry skipped the first few parts of the letter and went straight to the end, looking for something that would explain the book, 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'. He found it in the middle of a paragraph.

…favorite book. I remember a book that you had loved when you were young. Your father had gotten it for you the day you were born. He would read it to you when putting you down for your nap. An adorable scene, actually. He would usually fall asleep with you on the couch in the living room. There were many times when I walked in for a visit to see your father lying on the couch, asleep, with you lying on top of him, asleep as well. The couch wasn't big enough to fit a full grown man. So, his feet would be hanging off the side of the couch. His glasses would still be on his face, an arm wrapped around you on his chest. I remember one time when I had to babysit you and I had to put you down for the night. As I had mentioned before, you hated going to bed. I believe the only reason you take a nap without fuss was because your father would fall asleep with you. It took your mother to sing to you 'Love Me Tender' for you to fall asleep, but I don't have a good singing voice and I didn't know the song well enough. So, I put you in your crib, sat on the rocking chair, and read to you from your favorite book. Eventually, you ended up on my lap and I ended up reading the whole book to you before you fell asleep. The book had many different stories in it and your father usually read two or three before you fall asleep for you nap, but for some reason, that night, you wanted to hear the whole book.

Harry placed the letter down and picked up the book. He stared at it curiously. Was this his favorite book when he was younger? He opened up the cover. The inside of the cover Moony had written something.

My Little Cub,

A few days after your parents died, I dared to venture into their home in Godric's Hollow. I found this book in your nursery. I was surprised to see it still in good condition, for the most part. I took it so that someday it may be returned to its proper owner; you. With this book comes with many attached memories. Memories that you may be too young to remember, but memories that are buried deep within you still. Your parents loved you, Harry, and I love you. Don't you ever forget that.

Moony

Harry closed the book and stared at it with new eyes. He caressed the spin in wonderment. This was his book. His father bought this book when Harry was born. His father's hand was often on this book. He read those words to him. This book was there, sitting in his nursery, the day his parents died. It was a weird feeling; holding something that was there that night.

Harry stood up and left his room, taking the book with him. He found Moony sitting on the couch in the living room. He appeared to be reading the Daily Prophet. Standing there, Harry suddenly felt very stupid. He turned to leave, but Moony stopped him.

"Come, sit down, cub."

Harry turned back around. Moony was putting the paper down on the cocktail table. Harry walked over and sat on the couch next to him. He held the book on his lap and stared at it.

"Was there something you wanted, cub?" Moony asked softly.

Harry briefly glanced shyly at him before turn his gaze back to the book. "I…I was wondering if you could…could read it to me?" He asked meekly. His face turned red in embarrassment. His request sounded childish and stupid now that he said it. He was able to read, unlike when he was an infant. He didn't need anyone reading to him. He didn't dare lift his head up.

A hand came into Harry's view and grabbed the book from his lap. "Of course I will, my cub." Moony's soft voice said. He opened the book and Harry settled back against the couch, getting comfortable. "The Fountain of Fair Fortune." He started, reading the title of the first story.

Harry listen to Moony's calm and smoothing voice as he read the tale. Just like what happened years ago when Moony had babysat baby Harry, he read the entire book before Harry fell asleep leaning against Moony's chest, at peace and comfortable, raising a little when Moony inhaled to breath. All in all, Christmas that year was the best Christmas either of them had in a very, very long time.