Chapter Five

Another Christmas Come and Gone

"Sirius! Mother asked me to tell you that if you don't come downstairs she'll send father up here to drag you down!"

Sirius, who was sitting on his bed trying to think of more ways to procrastinate before going downstairs, rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

"I'm coming, you twat!" he yelled at Regulus through his closed bedroom door. "Give me five minutes! Or would you all rather I grace our guests in my knickers?"

"Just delivering the message," Regulus responded through the door. Taking his wand out, he tapped the doorknob, and a second later it opened into Sirius's room. "I knew you already had your pants on," he said once he saw that Sirius was sitting on his bed, fully dressed and flipping through a photo album, of all things.

"Get out!" yelled Sirius, picking up one of his pillows and throwing it at Regulus.

"Why are you still up here?" Regulus asked, catching the pillow easily as flew at his head. "You've made it perfectly clear before you're not embarrassed about being the black sheep in the family – or red sheep, I should say," he added, looking around his brothers room, which was plastered from floor to ceiling with Gryffindor paraphernalia.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," scoffed Sirius. "You're just like the rest of them, now, aren't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Regulus incredulously. "You're the one who had to go and get yourself sorted the wrong way, and now you're acting like it's our fault. Maybe if you tried to be a part-"

"This is so much bigger than Hogwarts houses, Regulus. This started long before all of that," said Sirius, growing more irritated by the second. "Don't pretend like you don't know that."

"What I know," said Regulus slowly, taking a few more steps into Sirius's room, "is that if you don't get your act together, Mother and Father will be the least of your problems. There's a whole host of people out there – and you know I don't just mean downstairs – who you're just begging to get on the wrong side of."

"This is bullshit," mumbled Sirius, getting up from the bed to put the album back on his dresser.

"So that's what family tradition is to you now?" said Regulus scathingly, turning to leave. "Good to know."

"And what exactly do you think it means, Regulus?" Sirius retorted. "Behind all that very proud and important talk of preserving tradition and wizarding values, what do you think it all really means? No – you know what? Don't answer that. I'd rather think you didn't know. It's better than you knowing and being ok with it all."

Regulus, who had stopped on his way out of the room at Sirius's words, considered his brother. "You know, maybe if you weren't so resentful about being placed wrong, you wouldn't be so paranoid about everything Mother and Father say-"

"For Merlin's sake, where the hell did you get house placement out of that, Reg?" yelled Sirius. "And I'm not paranoid, thank you very much. Now will you do me a favor and get out of my sight? You can tell Mother I'll be down as soon as I've made my tie." Snatching his tie from his bed, he walked over the stand up mirror in the corner and began to tie it with such ferocity it looked as though he were attempting so strangle himself.

"Whatever," said Regulus, growing tired of having this conversation with his brother. "But you can do me a favor by trying not to embarrass me in front of my friends like you so love to do at school. Or I will get Father involved."

"Ooh, I'm soooo scared," muttered Sirius, eyeing Regulus's retreating figure through the mirror. He paused to look at himself in the mirror once he finished with his tie. I really do look like them, now, he thought to himself, eyeing his grimly regal attire with disgust. Catching his expression in the mirror once his eyes moved back up to his face, Sirius recoiled slightly – he had looked almost exactly like his father, who constantly had a look of disgust plastered on his pale face. For some reason, this made Sirius think of James, of whom he was perpetually jealous because of his wonderful relationship with his own parents. He wondered what his best friend was doing at that very moment, and found himself imagining James opening his Christmas presents with his parents in the warmth of their sitting room, the lot of them laughing together, loving each other, smiling as if there weren't a care in the world… and there were Remus and Peter, stopping by to enjoy the fun, and none of them were giving a thought to were poor old Sirius was, not bothering to write him a single, solitary letter, even though they all promised they'd see him on Christmas–

"SIRIUS BLACK!"

"Coming!" Sirius yelled, his voice a little higher than usual from the shock of the booming voice that had echoed up the stairs, shaking him out of his reverie.

"If I have to tell you again–" his father continued, but Sirius interrupted as he thundered down the stairs.

"I'm coming, I said. I already told Regulus I just needed to make up my–"

"I don't care what you were doing, just get in there before your mother runs up the stairs in a rage," Orion said in a voice of forced calm.

There were a number of things that Sirius would have liked to say to this, but for the sake of his own hide he kept his mouth shut and walked from the dimly lit landing into the parlor, where his family and their guests were gathered. Sirius's first thought when he entered the room was that only someone like his mother could make a place look so dim and depressing on Christmas. His second thought was that he was growing rather hungry. He eyed the platters of appetizers on the table, which was surrounded by a throng of aunts and uncles, and decided that he would rather starve than chance a surprise interrogation. Instead, he began to scan the room for the darkest corner he could find, planning to wait there until everyone made their way into the dining room for supper.

"Hello, Sirius."

Oh, hell, Sirius thought, cringing as he turned around to face his cousin.

"Evening, Bella," he replied.

Bellatrix stared down at Sirius, a smirk playing on her handsome face, indicating that she had probably just been talking about him. Sirius was still trying to figure out exactly why, but something about Bellatrix still freaked him out even after all of these years. There was something sinister about her countenance, so that even when she appeared to possess the upmost grace, she still gave off the impression that she might cut your throat at the slightest provocation. Somehow, seeing her dressed up in formal attire tonight made her seem all the more savage. Half of her long, luxurious black hair was clipped back while the rest cascaded down her shoulders. She wore a pale dress that made her skin look even whiter than usual. In her left hand she held a glass of wine, and as she brought the glass up to her lips to take a sip, a glint on her finger caught Sirius's eye – a diamond ring.

"Have you seen my ring yet?" she asked him, holding the hand with the wine glass out to him for a better look.

"You know I haven't, Bella," Sirius said, taking a glass of firewhisky from the silver platter Kreature was carrying just as it passed by his waist. He took a great, long draft before continuing. "I wasn't invited to the wedding, remember?" he said as the strength of the drink filled his chest, making him feel a bit pluckier.

"Oh, that's right," Bellatrix said, smiling as she took another slow sip of wine. Sirius tightened his jaw, reminding himself that he would get through the evening much quicker if he didn't allow himself to get provoked. But Bellatrix had a knack for rubbing him the wrong way. She took such joy in sucking every last drop of vigor out of him that her glass might as well have been filled with his own blood. "You understand, I'm sure. Tradition is very important to Rasbatan, and to me."

"Trust me, I was hardly upset," Sirius said. This was true, although the same couldn't be said for his parents. However, it was not Bellatrix that they took issue with on this matter. It was Sirius. Bellatrix had knowingly poured salt on an old wound by reminding her aunt and uncle that the embarrassment of their older son's behavior wasn't forgotten among the rest of the family. Sirius had received quite a bit of grief from both his parents about this, despite the fact that he reminded them over and over again that he couldn't control who Bellatrix wanted at her wedding. He had finally managed to get them off his back when he suggested that Bellatrix was being hypocritical, as her own sister had run off with a muggleborn not too long before her engagement. In fact, Sirius was half-convinced that Bella's parents had arranged their eldest daughter's marriage in order to help clear up their pureblood name after Andromeda had so suddenly tainted it.

"Heard from Andy lately?" Sirius asked Bellatrix, deciding that if she really wanted to get into a discussion about black sheep, he would indulge her. "Still with that Tonks fellow? What am I talking about, she must be! I heard she was expecting not too long ago. Congrats, Bella. Never thought you'd have muggle blood in the family, did you?"

Bellatrix's expression was suddenly riddled with anger and disgust, and her face seemed to grow – if possible – even paler, with – Sirius noted with delight – the slightest tinge of green.

"Yes, I suppose you would like to talk about Andromeda, Sirius," she said. "It would certainly take some of the pressure off you. I only hope your brother doesn't one day have to suffer the same embarrassment I did by having a sibling desert the family. Speaking of Regulus, I see that he has some of his school friends here. Did you not invite any of yours?" She raised her glass to her lips once more, but paused and set it down again as a thought appeared to dawn on her face. "Oh, no, I forgot – the Lupin boy probably couldn't afford a decent set of dress robes, let alone a school uniform that doesn't look like it was from the homeless bin. Oh, and then there's the Potter boy, but I'm sure he wouldn't want to be here, with his own kind. The Potters are such pureblood nihilists they would probably hate this kind of sophistication. My, Sirius, you do know how to pick your friends. If I were you I would go over there with Regulus and try to salvage some of his company for yourself."

Sirius, for the majority of the time that Bellatrix was speaking, had been content to let her prattle on until she was satisfied and leave it at that. Years of experience had taught him that if he just let her taunts fall upon deaf ears, she would simply walk away after a while and that would be the end of it. The last time Sirius had allowed her taunts to provoke him beyond restraint, he had been seven years old, and had ended up hanging by his ankles outside of their fourth story window. This time, however, she wasn't just taunting Sirius. This time she chose to bring his friends into it – a thought that made Sirius grip his empty glass so tightly he was sure it would shatter.

"They're not nihilists, Bella," he said, spitting out her name as though it were poison. His voice shook with anger even as he forced it to remain calm. "They don't hate purebloods. People like you just call them that to justify your own hatred of muggles."

Bellatrix looked as though she was about to say something, but Sirius barreled on.

"It's very clever, I'll give you that. You make it seem like anyone who doesn't share your anti-muggle sentiments is out to destroy all of wizarding kind. You make everyone else seem like the nihilists when really it's you. That much I get, but I've always wanted to know something, so indulge me; do you turn the blame on everyone else because you know you're so full of hate and you don't want people to see it, or are you just that ignorant that you really believe every idiotic word that comes out of your fat mouth? I don't know which one's worse, but I'd honestly like to have your perspective on the matter."

Sirius looked at Bella with mild thoughtfulness, as though he had just asked about her thoughts on the weather. Inside, however, he was burning with satisfaction. Much of what he had just said he had paraphrased from Mrs. Potter, whom he had heard talk at length about the reverse psychological concept last summer. Suddenly he felt almost as if she were there with him at that very moment, a firm hand on his shoulder, staring daggers at Bellatrix, protecting him as if he were her own son.

Bella took a deep breath. "Well, I suppose you know you've hit rock bottom when you're projecting your own nihilism onto other people's moral values," she said. Though this was exactly what Sirius had just said, he knew she wasn't referring to herself. "Next you'll be saying that practicing magic is racist, and we should all just throw out our wands and labor around with the scum of the earth themselves."

"So, I'm gonna go with option number two, then," said Sirius, his voice growing louder to drown out the ringing that was developing in his ears. "You're just too damn stupid to hear your own hypocrisy even as it flies out of your ugly-"

WHACK!

Suddenly, all Sirius could see was a bright, white light as something hard came down on the back of his head. Before he could fully regain his vision, he felt someone tug at his ear and lead him abruptly out of the parlor and into the drawing room. Behind him, Sirius could hear Bellatrix's laughter.

His ear was released, and a moment later he heard the drawing room door close so that all sound from the parlor was suddenly shut out. He stared at his mother as she swooped up to him and swiftly shoved his shoulder down so that he fell into the armchair behind him. For a moment, Sirius thought she was going to hit him, but a moment later she swept herself away to the windows lining the right side of the room. Sirius was left staring at the tapestry on the wall before him, and found that all of the portraits were glaring down at him, with the exception of his own and uncle Alphard's, the former looking highly uncomfortable while the latter seemed completely oblivious to what was going on. Two spots down from his own portrait, Bellatrix was wearing a look of highly satisfied conviction as she looked from him to her sister, Andromeda – or, rather, what was left of Andromeda's portrait. Sirius's father had burned a hole straight through her face the day it was discovered that she had run off with a muggleborn.

"I honestly don't know what to do at this point, Sirius," his mother said quietly as she stared out the window, down at the empty street. "I've tried appealing to you on every level that I can possibly imagine, not only for the sake of this family, but for your own sake, as well. But time and time again you show that you don't give a damn about this family. I can't understand it. I really can't. I've wondered who to blame, wondered where the origin of this behavior began, but I'm at a loss. Your father and I have done nothing but care for you and your brother, given you everything you could have asked for… But then your house placement at school… Well, something must have happened before then, because you weren't sorted at random. Yet ever since then you have become more and more destructive to this family. And I am tired, Sirius, of trying to figure out why. So please, will you not tell me why you feel so obligated to destroy everything that is important to me?"

Sirius sat slouched in his chair in silence, saying nothing. This was certainly a rare move from his mother – rather than chastising him openly with insults and punishments, she was trying to guilt him into feeling sorry for his behavior. She was actually playing the victim. The wonders never cease, he thought with such bitterness that he had to push back the tears as they welled in his eyes. He would have liked very much to reply, but he could think of nothing to say that wouldn't make matters worse for himself.

Walburga seemed to sense this and asked, "Do you have no remorse, Sirius?"

Still he said nothing. He was barely breathing at this point.

"What is that matter with you?" Walburga said, her voice growing slightly louder, more hysterical. "Who is putting this mendacity in your head? It's that Potter family, isn't it? You spend entirely too much time around their boy – I don't care if you're in the same house. And I wouldn't be half so concerned if you weren't writing them practically every other day – what on earth your could have to talk about that requires that many letters I have no idea-"

"How's it your business who I write to and how often?" Sirius asked, practically shouting at his mother's intrusion on his personal habits and temporarily forgetting her quick temper. "I mean," he said, quieting his tone. "I don't see what that has to do with this conversation."

"It has everything to so with this conversation, Sirius, because this conversation is about where your loyalties lie, and the kind of… of propaganda that renegades like that family might be putting in your head. If I thought it were at all possible I'd have had you taken out of that house and put in Slytherin where you belong a long time ago – although to be honest I'm starting to wonder if that is where you belong-"

"So if it doesn't coincide with your agenda, it's propaganda," said Sirius, talking over his mother, "but if Regulus parrots something you believe in without really understanding it, that's ok?" Sirius mumbled, terrified of how his mother would react but compelled to say it nonetheless. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine Mrs. Potter standing over his shoulder once again as he listened to the sound of quick footsteps striding towards him.

"Let me tell you something," whispered Walburga, her face so close to her son's that Sirius could feel her breath, and he squinted his eyes shut even more fervently. "I don't know what it will take at this point to make you see straight, but you had better pray that you're not a bad influence on your brother, because if you think I'm angry now-"

"I don't think you have to worry about Regulus, mother," Sirius said, his eyes still closed, wishing it would all just go away as easily as he had closed his eyes. "I doubt anything I do will dirty the brain you've so meticulously washed."

He was brought swiftly back to reality when Walburga's palm made contact with the side of his face, and white-hot pain suddenly seared through his cheek as his head was jerked to the side. He didn't move. He didn't speak. He was far too tired of this to react anymore.

"You think this is a joke, Sirius, but it's not. I am trying to protect you and your brother, to raise you properly, and you think it's a joke-" she broke off, as her voice had started to shake. She brought a hand to her mouth and turned away from Sirius, facing the window once again. Sirius clenched his jaw and fought back the tears, but not because he felt guilty. It was because he was tired, and because he already knew what was going to happen next. She had gone through the list of tactics as she always did: intimidation, fear, guilt, and next up was embarrassment. She would start talking about the people in the other room, telling Sirius that he wasn't just embarrassing the family, but also himself, even if he didn't know it. And even though this was exactly how it happened whenever they had a row, every time Sirius would think to himself, God I hope I'm wrong. I'd give anything to be wrong. This time will be different. This time she won't care more about what other people think than she does about how I feel. She'll act like my MOTHER for a change. Then he'd think about Christmases long past, before Sirius grew to know his parents for who they truly were, when his mother would hold him in her arms while he and Regulus opened presents, and he'd suddenly feel sick thinking about it, because it reminded him of how cold and empty he was now without those arms around him, without that blissful ignorance. Maybe that's why I act like such a child, he thought with bitter humor.

"-impossible to get any of this through your head, Sirius."

Sirius looked up, realizing that his mother had started talking again.

"Ok, mother. You're right. I'm sorry," said Sirius in a tone of mock compliance. "I probably shouldn't even be down here with everyone if I'm just going to embarrass you. I'll just go up to my room now, so you can get back to your glittering circle of friends."

"You know what, Sirius? Fine," snapped Walburga. "Fine. If that's the way you really feel, that's fine! Go upstairs! Be alone – on Christmas – for the rest of the night. If being a part of this family is so repulsive to you, then you don't have to be."

Sirius got up from his chair and started walking towards the door, but Walburga kept talking.

"Go! Just go upstairs, and stay in your room, and we'll all just ignore you for the rest of the night. I wouldn't be surprised if no one even asks where you are. Maybe then you'll think a little but harder about-"

But what he was to think a bit harder about Sirius was not to know, as he had walked through the door and slammed it shut again before his mother could finish her sentence.

The only worrying thought in Sirius's head was that he might run into his father before he reached the stairs. Making his way through the throng of people to the landing, however, was easier than he thought, as the sitting room was dimly lit and most of the guests were deep in conversation in small groups scattered throughout the room. Once he was out of sight of everyone in the house, he bounded up the stairs and into his room. He didn't waste any time grabbing his coat out of the closet and prying open his bedroom window, as he had worked out what he was going to about halfway through Walburga's speech. Being practiced in sneaking out of his window by levitating himself to the ground made the escape quick and easy. He could have cared less about the laws against the use of underage magic at that point.

Once he got the sidewalk, he stuck his right arm out and less than five seconds later the purple three-decker bus that he was so familiar with from all his impromptu trips to the Potter's house was rearing dangerously up the street and screeching to a halt in front of him.


"Of all the wizards I've known (and I've known some)

Until I first met you I was lonesome

But then you waved your wand, dear, and charmed my heart

And ever since then we ain't been apart!

You're a magic man, I have to admit you

Deserve expressions that really fit you

So I've pensived my brain hoping to explain

Bei mir bist du schoen, Oh yes indeed

Bei mir bist du schoen, yes I'll explain

It means you're the only incantation I need–"

"Oof! Other way, dear! It's called a hammerlock, not a headlock!"

"Ack! Oof – wait–"

"Other way, other way!" Eedris Potter called through her laughter over the over the blaring music. She and her son had been dancing in the sitting room, Mrs. Potter instructing James on how to perform a swing properly, when James had turned the wrong way mid-spin, resulting in a knot of arms that now connected him to him mother in an awkward manner.

"Remember, it's slow, slow, quick, quick, slow," Eed repeated.

"That's what I'm doing!" James shot back, though he was laughing just as hard.

"Alright, alright, move aside, son," said Mr. Potter, getting up from his armchair by the gramophone. "Here's how it's done."

James stepped back and watched his father take his mother's hand and begin to lead her in the dance. Though they picked up with the same jazzy tune to which James and his mother had just been doing a lively swing, James's father led with gentile, fluid, unhesitating movements that made the dance unprecedentedly romantic. George always conducted himself, both physically and in speech, with steady deliberation and quiet grace, mannerisms that had developed from serving as a healer on deployed mission to Eastern Europe during the Great War on Grindelwald, where keeping calm and maintaining a steady hand under great pressure was essential to saving lives. Sometimes James wished that he could be more like his father: calm, cool, and deliberated. In some instances he was, but on the whole he was much more like his mother, who was exactly the opposite in almost every way. She had been a refugee and later an Auror during the Great War, where her experience had taught her the value of relentless ferocity in battle. Eedris and James were incredibly reckless, unpredictable, and sharp of tongue, but fortunately these traits were accompanied by a remarkably high level of intelligence that allowed them to find their way out of sticky situations as easily as they got themselves into them.

James watched at the two swayed around the room, their movements complementing each other perfectly. He found himself wondering just how lucky he was to have parents like his, who at their age still had as much passion for each other as they did when they were newlyweds. It was more than he could say for some couples. Sirius's parents, for example. It was a very poorly kept secret that Mr. and Mrs. Black only remained together out of pride. Part of the reason why Sirius came to stay with the Potters so often during holidays was to escape getting caught in the middle of his parent's passive aggressive battles of will. Why Sirius had apparently chosen to stay at his parent's house for the holiday, then, was a complete mystery to James, who had been looking forward to having someone else around for the holidays this year.

Most years it was just James and his parents. It had been that way ever since he was three years old, when his aunt Berna, Eedris's older sister and only remaining relative, had passed away. The rest of Eedris's family had died many years ago, casualties in Great War. George, meanwhile, had been an only child like James, and his parents had died of dragon pox many years ago, back before anyone had discovered a cure for the disease. So, the holidays were usually very small, intimate affairs. James was used to this, though, having grown up with little more than his parents for company until he began school at Hogwarts. Before then, the only time he ever got to socialize was at parties thrown by his parent's friends, most of whom were, like the Potters, very well-off. However, due to the unusually large age difference between him and his parents, James rarely met anyone close to his own age at these soirées. One of the exceptions was Ellie Cheswick, who was only a year older than James and whose family had known the Potters for years. But James hadn't seen her, her mother or her younger sister since their father's funeral, as Ellie had not returned to Hogwarts last semester.

A knock on the door roused James from his thoughts.

"Who could that be?" said Mrs. Potter, stopping mid-twirl to crane her head in the direction of the foyer.

"I'll get it," said James, striding up to the front door. Flinging it open, he gave a start when he saw Sirius standing on the front porch looking disheveled and slightly erratic.

"Sirius!" cried James, his face breaking into a smile for half a second before his brow began to furrow as he began to recognize a look of hot annoyance on his best friend's face. "Err – what are you… I mean, come in."

"Gee, thanks," said Sirius shortly.

"Er… no problem" James said as he stepped aside to let Sirius in.

"What happened?" Sirius asked once James had closed the door.

"I should be asking you that," asked James. "You never wrote back to either of my letters."

"I never – no," said Sirius, taken aback. "No – I wrote you. You never wrote back."

"Well if you did, I never got them," said James, quickly growing annoyed by Sirius's accusatory tone.

"What?"

"What's going on in there? James? Who's at the door?"

"Nothing, Mum – I mean, it's Sirius," James called down the hall.

"Oh, so he did decide to come for Christmas! Lovely!"

"This doesn't make any sense," said Sirius. "You never got any of my letters?"

"You know, this isn't the first time this has happened," said James. "Remember at the beginning of the year? You said you never got the letters I sent you about the anim – er," James paused, glancing down the hall towards the living room. "About the Wonderland stuff. At the time I thought it was just some random thing, but–"

"But it doesn't seem so random now," Sirius finished for him. "Are you sure Pan's not going a bit loopy?"

"She gets to everyone else just fine," said James a little defsively.

"Ok, ok, just saying," said Sirius.

"Do you think that–"

"James? Sirius? Are you still there? What are you up to?"

"Coming, Mum! Come on," he said to Sirius, and the two started down the hall.

"Hey, Mum? Did you remember getting any mail from Sirius? Something you might have forgot about?"

"What are you suggesting? That I'm senile?"

"No," said James, rolling his eyes as he and Sirius entered the living room. "It's just that–"

"Sirius!" called Mrs. Potter, cutting her son off as she flew towards Sirius and wrapped him in a tight hug. "How are you, dear?"

"'M doin' all right, Mrs. P," said Sirius.

"I'm so glad you're here," she said, releasing Sirius from her arms to have a look at him. "I didn't think we'd have the pleasure of seeing you in person today. We thought you'd forgotten us!"

"Never," Sirius said warmly, his spirits lifting upon the sight of her gleaming eyes and open arms. "Oh, and Merry Christmas."

"Your parents don't mind that you've gone to spend Christmas day without them, Sirius?" said Mr. Potter.

"Oh, they…" began Sirius, wondering if he should lie or not. "We were having a get-together, but they told me I could leave." More like gave him a time-out, but whatever.

"Well, that's marvelous," said Mr. Potter from his armchair near the fireplace. "I was under the impression that your mother didn't much care for us."

"George!" chided Mrs. Potter.

"Just being honest."

"Oh my god," said Sirius, his eyes growing wide as a look of realization dawned upon his face.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Sirius. I thought you knew," said Mr. Potter.

"No, it's not that, I… my mother…" he said, half-whispering.

"What about her, Sirius?" asked Mrs. Potter.

"She took them," said Sirius softly. "She took my letters. That's how she knew – and she must have been intercepting yours, two!" He knew this to be true; it was so obvious now. He only wondered how he hadn't figured it out before. He couldn't even be angry, really, because if he had to be completely honest with himself, he should have expected just as much from her.

"Oh, Sirius," said Mrs. Potter. "Why would your mother do such a thing?"

"She's done a lot worse, believe me," Sirius responded, not looking her in the eye, hoping she wouldn't ask him to clarify why his mother would want to intercept letters between him and James. He didn't want to have to explain to the Potters what his mother thought of them.

"Well," said Mrs. Potter, ending an awkward pause. "That's not important now, I suppose. What matters is that you're here now. I was just about to make some tea. Would you like a cup?"

"Yes, please," said Sirius, hoping that Mrs. Potter would understand from his expression just how grateful he was that she had decided not to dwell on the topic. Her warm expression and the light touch on his arm as she went into the kitchen told him that she did.

Mr. Potter looked back and forth from James to Sirius for a moment before getting up out of his chair.

"Well, I'll go join your mother," he said. "Good to see you, Sirius," he added, clapping him lightly on the shoulder as he walked by.

Once the boys were left alone, Sirius sank into one of the closest armchairs.

"What am I gonna do now?" he said. "I already know it won't matter if I tell her off – the most that'll happen is I'll get punished for mouthing off and she'll just keep intercepting and I'm never gonna be able to keep in touch with you when I'm at home and–"

"Ok, I'm gonna stop you right there," said James, putting his hands up, "and just say that I am the greatest person in the universe, because I already know how we're going to get around that."

"How's that, exactly?" said Sirius, still sounding miserable.

"I'll show you," said James. He began to lead Sirius up the stairs to his room when another knock sounded from the front door.

"I'll get it!" James called to his parents, and he bounded down the stairs again. "Just a second, Sirius!"

Opening the door to their second visitor of the evening, James received yet another pleasant surprise when he found himself face to face with–

"Alice!" he cried, looking her up and down. "Haven't seen you in ages! Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, James," she said, though she appeared distracted as she peered past him into the house. "Are your parents around?"

"Yeah, they're in the kitchen," he said, furrowing his brow.

"Ok, thanks," she said, stepping past him without another word.

James watched her disappear down the hall and into the kitchen.

"Merry Christmas, James. You're looking well. May I come in? Please and thank you," muttered James as he closed the front door.

"Alice!" cried Mrs. Potter delightedly when she turned and saw Alice coming through the kitchen.

"Hello, Eedris," said Alice with barely any enthusiasm, closing the door that led into the kitchen.

"Is something the matter, my dear?" said Mr. Potter from his seat at the kitchen table. "You've not had an argument with Frank, have you? The holidays have a special way of making loved ones rub each other the wrong way–"

"It's not that, it's…" Alice paused. "It's about what you asked me to look into. Over the summer."

Without so much as a word, Mrs. Potter immediately put the cup that she was holding down on the counter and hastened over to the kitchen door. She checked briefly to make sure that neither James nor Sirius was listening on the other side. Once she was satisfied, she closed the door again and turned back to Alice, her face pale.

"Alright," she said, gripping her hands together. "What is it? What did you find out?"

"I think you were right to be suspicious of the healers who looked after James," said Alice.

Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Potter said a word, but their jaws were clenched and they were both considerably paler now.

"There have been several similar cases of memory loss, both from recent patients of the hospital and a few other cases that were otherwise thought to be isolated."

"But – but why?" asked Mrs. Potter, almost at a loss for words. "Why would anyone… he was there from a flying accident, for Merlin's sake!"

"I've thought about that," Alice continued. "Have you ever thought… is it possible that it wasn't an accident? That maybe someone wanted him there?"

George and Eedris glanced at each other before answering.

"The thought occurred to us," said George. "But only for a moment, because again we had to ask ourselves why, and we had no answer."

"The only thing that makes sense is that they saw something," said Alice.

"They?" said George and Eedris.

"Ellie Cheswick was reported to have had some memory problems, too," said Alice. "And there are other cases that I mentioned. I don't know what they could have seen, but considering that it's memory lapses we're dealing with, it's the only thing that makes sense. They just don't know what it could be – the Aurors, I mean. They say if we can figure out what it was they saw, even just a clue, then we can connect all the cases and move forward from there. Whatever it is, what we know for sure is that there are people at Saint Mungo's who are in on it. Maybe not the whole hospital, but a good part of it. Things have been shifty ever since Nostrum was appointed head of the board."

The three of them remained in silence for a good long while before one of them spoke again.

"Is James going to be alright?" asked Mr. Potter.

"The Aurors say there's nothing to suggest anything sinister beyond the memory wiping," said Alice. "And I believe them. Whoever did it wouldn't want to leave any kind of a trail to connect their victims – that's why it's been so difficult to connect even what we've managed to thus far. That's actually why Moody has been so interested in James's case, since he was injured. He says that the physical trauma might have left him with a better chance at remembering what really happened."

"And that's why you're here?" said George. "To ask him what he knows? Alice, we haven't told him anything about our concerns. He has no idea that you're even looking into him–"

"Does he know anything about your suspicions of the hospital?" asked Alice.

"Only in the most general sense," said George. "Not in any way that concerns his visit there."

"We just don't see the sense in worrying him without knowing more," said Eedris. "Alice, do you think that whatever went on there… could it have anything to do with Henry Cheswick's murder?"

"It's complicated. Most people are still saying it was a suicide–"

"Please, Alice, don't spare us," said Eedris. "We need to know."

Alice sighed, looking down at the floor as she answered.

"There's a distinct possibility," she said. "So if you can tell me anything that he's said about what he remembers from that day, it would really help us out."

"As far as we know, he remembers nothing more than what he did the last time we talked to you," said George. "We only just asked him last week if he remembered anything else, but we'll ask again, either tonight or tomorrow, and let you know."

"George – George, check the door," said Mrs. Potter suddenly, her eyes growing wide. She had thought she heard the sound of a floorboard creaking out in the hall.

Mr. Potter swiftly opened the door, and both he and his wife gave a sigh of relief when they saw that there was no one on the other side.

In fact, James had been so eager to show Sirius what he had gotten him for Christmas – not just because it was unbelievably cool, but also because Sirius seemed to be in a particularly bad mood and needed some cheering up right away – that he hadn't stuck around to see what Alice had wanted with his parents.

While James dug under his bed for the package he had stashed there earlier that week, Sirius looked around the comfy little room. Not much had changed from the last time Sirius had been there, besides the addition of a few more foldouts of the Old Sarum Satyrs tacked up on the walls, cut out from monthly editions of International Quidditch League Magazine. Amongst them, Sirius noticed a black and white picture of a single member of the team, Angela Garfield, waving enthusiastically at the camera. Scrawled across the lower right corner of the picture was a signature in purple ink, the team's color.

"You got Angela Garfield's autograph?" Sirius asked wildly, striding over to the photograph for a closer look.

"Yeah, it was in my Christmas card this year," said James. "Dad even got her to write it out to me. See?"

"You lucky bastard," said Sirius.

"Anyway, here you go," said James, extending a thin, rectangular package out to Sirius. "Careful with it. It's kind of fragile."

"Oh, shit," said Sirius, looking at the package.

"Ok... That's not exactly the reaction I was expecting," said James a bit confusedly. "You haven't even opened it yet."

"I left yours at my house, mate," he explained.

"What do you think I'm gonna do, hold yours out until I get mine?" asked James. "Just open it."

Sirius took the package. It was heavier than he expected it to be – from the size and shape he had been expecting a book. Needless to say he was relieved to find that he was wrong. He tore the parchment wrapping off carefully and to his surprise, when he looked down at what was in his hands, he saw himself.

"Oh," he said, trying to sound more enthusiastic than he was. "A mirror. Wow, that's… do you really think I'm that vain?"

"It's not to look at yourself with," said James, rolling his eyes as if Sirius had suggested something very silly indeed.

"Oh, my mistake. Of course not."

"Look, you know how McGonagall always puts us in separate detentions to make absolutely sure we don't have a good time when we're cleaning slug juice off the dungeon floors?"

"Yeah," said Sirius, not sure what this had to do with the gift in his hands.

"Well now we can talk to each other wherever we are," said James. He went to his dresser and opened the top drawer, pulling out mirror identical to the one he had given Sirius. "It's a two-way mirror. I found it in the pawnshop that we overheard Zonko talking about last time we were in Hogsmeade. You just say the name of the person who has the other mirror, and they appear in yours. Try it."

"Ok… er, James Potter," said Sirius, looking from the mirror to James a bit skeptically as he spoke. When he looked back down at the mirror, however, he saw not himself, but an image of James as if he were looking up at him from about two feet below his head, as James was holding his own mirror down my his waist. "Cool!" he exclaimed. "I can see right up your nose!" He heard an echo as he spoke and realized that he was hearing himself through the other mirror. James turned the mirror towards Sirius so that he could see, and Sirius saw a projection of his own face as it would have appeared in the mirror he held in his own hands.

"You see?" said James. "Now it doesn't even matter about the letters."

"Unless you count the principal of the thing," said Sirius, his expression falling from delight to discouragement in record time. "But you're right," he sighed, dropping himself onto James's bed. "It doesn't matter, because no matter what I say to that woman, she's not gonna change. You have no idea how lucky you are, James. You have no idea what it's like not to even feel wanted in your own home. I might as well stay here forever. I wonder if they'd even give a hoot."

"Sirius, don't say that," said James consolingly. "No matter what happens, they're still you family."

"Good thing no one else is here," said Sirius. "Someone might mistake you for being sensitive."

James gave him a small smile, but he made no retort, which told Sirius that he was in one of his extremely rare serious moods.

"Even if that is the way you feel about your parents," James continued, "there's still your brother. I remember you telling me when we were in first year that you thought he might get sorted into Gryffindor with you. Didn't you say you two used to get along?"

"Used to," said Sirius gravely. "I dunno. He's changed ever since he realized how much more appreciated he is at home because of my black sheep status in the family. Most of the time, James, I feel like I don't even know him at all."

"Most of the time, Severus, I feel like I don't even know her at all."

Lily was sitting on her bed, staring down at an old photo album of her and her sister from the sixties. It was late on Christmas day, and the Evans family was done celebrating with Mrs. Evans's Great Aunt and her extended family, so Lily had invited Severus to come over. She knew he mustn't have been having a very good time at his parent's house, holiday or no holiday. It turned out that she was right, though Severus had spared her the details; Severus's mother had given her a new set of potion vials for Christmas this year, but her husband immediately began arguing with her once he realized that the gift was strictly for magical purposes. He was already somewhat drunk at this point, and this led to him shouting at his son that if he really needed magic to make his Christmas worthwhile, then he surely didn't want anything that his muggle father had given him. In his half-drunken rage, he had managed to smash all of the vials that Severus's mother had bought. With that, he had thrown out all of the remaining gifts and resigned himself to his usual spot on the living room couch in front of the television for the rest of the day while Eileen shut herself up in her room. Severus had tried to come in and console her, but she wasn't in the mood to talk. In fact, she became angry with her son for openly favoring her gift over his father's. It was with great willingness, then, that he accepted Lily's invitation to join her at her house. Though his experience with his muggle father left Severus disinclined to associate with muggles in general, he made an exception in order to spend more time with Lily. He understood Lily to be in a similar position as he was at home, if no quite as bad, and therefore he felt that it was his duty to remind her how much better she was than the rest of her family.

"Just remember – you're so much better than she is," said Severus, leaning up against her dresser, watching her flip through the album from across the room. "You're special. Don't even think about her."

"Oh, Sev, that's not right," said Lily, closing the album. "I don't think I'm better than anyone–"

"But you are," said Severus.

Lily looked up and gave Severus a sad little smile.

"I'm not going to pretend that I'm not flattered," she said, and Severus blushed. "But it's still not right. I'm not better than her because of my magic. Saying that would be no different from saying that purebloods are better than muggleborns. You know, now that I think of it, I'd love to see the look on Krink's face if she ever heard that there were people who looked down on magic as badly as she did on muggles."

"I'm not sure she'd believe it," said Severus.

"That just goes to show you how blinded her and her friends are by their own prejudice," said Lily.

"Lily?" called the muffled voice of Mrs. Evans through the bedroom door. "Lily, what's going on in there? Why is the door shut?"

"Nothing, Mum!" shouted Lily, hastening to the door to open it up as evidence that they had nothing to hide. "Just talking! Ugh, so embarrassing. Sorry, Sev," she said, turning back to her bed.

"Hm? Oh, no, yeah, sure, whatever," mumbled Severus nonsensically, trying desperately to get the burning in his ears to subside. "Um, listen," he said once he had regained some control over himself. "I got you something – it's nothing special, but I thought, I don't know, it looked nice, so…"

He took a small box out of his pants pocket and extended it towards Lily.

"Oh, I got you something, too!" exclaimed Lily. "I completely forgot – I was so distracted by how Petunia was acting at Aunt Rosie's – here." She handed him a package about the size of a shoebox though considerably heavier, which she had just dug out from under her bed.

Severus sat down on the floor to open his gift, tearing the paper off tenderly.

"Oh, Sev!"

Because of the small size of Lily's gift, she had managed to open it before Severus had even undone all the wrappings to his. She was now staring down into the open box with one hand over her heart, looking as though she were about to cry.

"It's beautiful," she whispered. Using two fingers she lifted out of the tiny box a very thin gold chain, at the end of which bobbed a little gold pendant carved shallow relief. A lily.

"It's not twenty-four k, or anything," said Severus, as if he were trying to explain his gift away. "But I saw it in a shop in Hogsmeade last time we were there and–"

"I love it! Oh, don't even open min, it's nowhere near as special!"

"I'm sure it's great," said Severus. He continued to unwrap his gift, hunching down as he did so to hide the blush that has reappeared upon his face. When he finally got all the wrappings off, he found himself staring down at a velvety green box with the words Crystal Vial Set scrawled across it in flourishing script. He opened the top to reveal nine elegant crystal vials in varying sizes, each with their own stopper and a stack of blank labels and string.

"I noticed that some of yours were a bit cracked, so I thought you could use a new set," said Lily. "You're work in potions deserves it. But of course you know I'll have to take partial credit for every potion of yours that turns out particularly fabulous," she teased.

"They're…" Severus began, but he stopped when his voice cracked. He swallowed. It hurt going down, a bit, but it was a good kind of pain. She smiled at him, pleased that he liked what she had gotten him, not knowing just how much it really meant. "Thank you."