Chapter 3: Good Tidings to Kin
"Hark, how the bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say throw cares away. Christmas is here, be of good cheer…."
Harry scooted past the carolers on the street, shaking off the new fallen snow just landing on his coat. While the holidays were his favorite time of year in Godric's Hallow, he had to hurry and get this one little errand done and then get back to Ginny and the boys. Just then, he thought he heard someone calling his name:
"Uncle Harry! UNCLE HARRY!"
Harry spun around to see his four-year-old niece sprinting towards him.
"Hey, Rosie!" he chuckled, as she threw her arms around his legs. "How you doing?" Looking up, he saw Ron and Hermione approach. "What are you guys doing here?"
"Last minute Christmas shopping," Ron explained, shifting packages in his arms to give his best mate a proper hug. Harry followed with Hermione, giving her a kiss on the temple.
"Someone forgot to buy his Mum a present…." Hermione smiled, her eyes twinkling with mirth.
"Can I help it if I can't keep track of bloody everyone in this family, 'Mione? It's growing bigger by the day!"
"Don't swear in front of our daughter," Hermione scolded instinctively, as if the phrase had been programmed into her. "And yes, you can help it, considering it's your Mum!"
"All right, all right, no more bickering, you two! It's Christmas!" Harry laughed.
Hermione seemed to have noticed the flowers in Harry's arms. Her expression softened. "Are those what I think they're for?"
Harry nodded, his mouth in a grim line. Even after all these years, it was amazing how well she could still read him. Ron looked between his brother and his wife, quickly catching up.
"Want us to come with you? We're heading that way anyhow, to the Apparation point."
Harry nodded. "I'd appreciate the company," he admitted.
With the Chosen One leading the way, the group headed towards the town graveyard. At the black iron gate, the Weasleys halted, and Harry proceeded to step in alone. Feeling spooked, Rose suddenly launched forward, and Hermione had to hold her back.
"Don't go in there, Uncle Harry! There could be ghosts!"
"Rose, honey, hush, your uncle has to do this…." Hermione admonished.
Harry approached his parents' graves, gingerly laying the flower bouquets against the headstones. The chill of the wind froze a stray tear on his cheek.
He sniffled. Second to Halloween night - the anniversary of their deaths, Christmas was when he missed his parents the most. But honoring them on holidays like this was comforting, actually; it gave him a sense of closure.
Turning away, Harry returned to his family and accepted Rose's hug, letting her know he was OK. He nodded to his siblings.
"Thanks for this."
Ron tousled his hair. "What is family for?"
A/N: "And it's quiet uptown. I never liked the quiet before. I take the children to church on Sunday, A sign of the cross at the door. And I pray. That never used to happen before." ~ Lin Manuel Miranda, Hamilton