November, 1991
Harry was meeting up with Pansy a couple of times a week to chat, usually either bundled up warmly to meet by the lake, or at the library. Hermione had eventually apologised for not understanding that he wanted to connect with family any way he could; she still didn't approve of his interest in "backwards pure-blood traditions" but was willing to agree to disagree on the topic, and not give him grief about learning more about them. For at least he'd explained that he didn't think Muggle-borns were any less worthy witches or wizards because of their background.
Pansy seemed to view their meet-ups less as socialising, and more as opportunities to teach him how to be a "proper" wizard. She was currently instructing him in how to bow - in a variety of styles to express meaning (like in appreciation, greeting, or acknowledgement of a favour). She also told him he needed to find out if he was the Head of the Potter family, or just an Heir. Wizards came of age at seventeen, and he might not count as the family Head before that age.
"See if you can access the Potter family vault or not."
She also nagged him that he needed to find out if there were any house-elves at his family manor that he needed to ensure were still properly bonded, "…lest they wither and die."
Harry doubted that he had a manor, but Pansy sniffed at his opinion dismissively.
"Of course the Potters had a manor. Every pure-blood of quality owns property. Even the Weasleys have a hovel and some land, for Merlin's sake."
Daphne leapt in quickly and loudly with chatter about what house-elves were, and how they drew on the ambient magic of their home and its family to survive and flourish. Hogwarts, due to the large number of students and its location, could support numerous house-elves.
"I thought Filch did all the cleaning?"
"You thought a single Squib cleaned the entire castle, did the laundry, mopped the floors, and made the beds? Not to mention the cooking? No, he must only be here out of someone's foolish sense of pity or a family obligation. The house-elves do all the real work at night."
Classes were going well. Perhaps a little too well. Professor Flitwick had been pushing him to do better in class ever since he'd heard about Harry's Incendio against the troll. Harry was currently keeping his grade in Charms to an A, but it was a struggle. Flitwick was watching him more closely, and it was harder to pretend not to understand what the wand motions should look like when your teacher was right there correcting you. He'd never had such an attentive teacher before! He'd improved his performance in class and dropped the quality of his essays to compensate. Hermione offered to read over his essays but he refused politely.
His current private research project was spells that could alter or erase memories, or block magic, and how to defend against them. He hadn't forgotten the threats against his family. He couldn't find anything on blocking magic altogether, but he found a Memory Charm in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk. It was first developed by Mnemone Radford over 300 years ago, so was very commonly known. That second year students should be able to cast such a charm was terrifying. And the defence against it was difficult – the Shield Spell was regarded as suitably challenging for OWL students and was found in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5. Harry starting practicing it at once, but he barely got a glimmer of light on his first few tries. It was clearly going to take a lot of practice.
Things had been odd in Potions class ever since Harry had quit the Quidditch team. Or maybe it was because Harry had been careful to show he could be the one to stir the cauldron and make the ingredients transmute successfully into an adequate (though not outstanding) potion. Snape wasn't taking so many points from him, and once he even stopped by Harry's bench with what passed for a helpful suggestion.
"Are you truly too much of an imbecile to know the difference between shredding and slicing?"
Harry hesitated, and said, "Sorry, Professor Snape, I forgot." He pushed the deliberately shredded roots aside and started carefully and efficiently slicing some new ones. Snape swept away wordlessly. He and Ron got a rare "Acceptable" for their potion that day.
Professor McGonagall had been unable to talk Harry out of quitting Quidditch, especially once he was assured by his shocked teacher that she saw his presence on the Gryffindor team as a privilege, not a punishment. However, she only relented in her attempts to persuade him to rejoin when he offered to have Aunt Petunia write a letter banning him from playing ever again, if she needed an assurance of his final decision in writing. She hastily backed down and extracted from him a hollow promise to think it over, and consider playing again next year once he was more settled into classes.
So there was no impediment to Neville alternating between studying Potions with both Harry and Hermione, twice each a week. Hermione offered to tutor Harry and Ron too, but they both turned her down, to her disappointment.
"I don't understand, Harry. I know you like reading about Potions, and you study so hard! How can you not manage to get better grades?"
Harry rambled a bit about wanting to achieve things on his own. Ron just said Potions were boring and he got enough of that in class, thank you very much.
In the first week of December Harry got a letter. He was used to the flocks of owls swooping around at breakfast time, but none of them ever landed next to him. The only mail delivery he'd gotten so far was the dress robes he'd ordered from Madam Malkin's (they'd shrunk them for delivery – very handy). But one morning one of the ordinary looking brown owls landed on the back of his chair and stuck out a leg holding a letter. It hooted at him.
"Looks like you've got a letter, mate!" said Ron. "Who's it from?"
"I've no idea. Who would be writing to me?" he turned around to look at the owl. "Are you sure this letter is for me?" It pecked him crossly on the head. "Ow!"
"You hurt its feelings!" laughed Ron. "Post owls are very smart. It's offended that you thought it doesn't know how to deliver a letter. Better take the letter post-haste and give it a bit of bacon."
It was an ordinary looking paper envelope, addressed to him at "Hogwarts", care of a post office box in London. How curious. He turned it over to see the sender – it was from Petunia! He ripped it open, wondering what could be so urgent as to prompt her to write to him. His jaw dropped open as he read.
"What is it?" asked Hermione concernedly. "Is it bad news?"
"No," said a very startled Harry. "It's from my Aunt Petunia. She wants me to come home for Christmas."
"Oh, is that all?" replied Hermione. She exchanged a look with Ron, who just shrugged. He didn't get why that was startling news either. Maybe Harry was leaving something out.
Neville gave Harry a sympathetic glance though. "I hope they're not… upset about anything? Did they hear about the troll?"
"I don't think they did. I'm sure Aunt Petunia would've mentioned it if they had. Apparently Dudley, that's my cousin, he's coming home from boarding school for Christmas and he wanted me to come home for the holidays too. Fancy Dudley missing me!"
"That's it?" asked Ron, still sure there was some kind of mystery to it all.
"That's it. The rest is just some details about when they'll pick me up from Kings Cross Station, and a reminder to leave all my 'magic stuff' at school."
"I guess they're worried you'll do magic out of school? That's not allowed you know. You can take your wand but you can't use it," explained Hermione unnecessarily. Harry already knew that, but he appreciated that she was trying to help.
"It'll be fine," he said to Neville, who nodded at him. "Do you know how the letter got from London to Hogwarts?"
"No, it doesn't say in-" started Hermione.
"-Hogwarts, A History," finished Ron. Hermione glared at him. He grinned at her around a mouthful of bacon.
"Well, a school owl delivered it," said Neville, looking over the envelope while Hermione bickered with Ron about his appalling eating habits and rude behaviour, and her bookishness. "This is more conjecture than certain knowledge, but I believe that the Ministry collects the Muggle mail in London and relays it onwards to the Hogsmeade Post Office, though I'm not sure by what exact means. The school owls would collect it from there. You can borrow one, you know, if you want to send a response. They're in the owlery at the top of the West Tower. Take the fourth-floor corridor. You might have to gift it a few knuts or up to a sickle to cover postage for a long distance owl from Hogsmeade within England. If your family resides outside of Scotland that is. School owls cover the immediate environs."
"How do you know so much about it?"
"Well, my Gran expects a letter every week you know. I don't have my own owl, just Trevor, so I am obliged to make use of the school owls. It's three knuts a letter to reach our manor. Just put the money in a little pouch for the owl to carry."
Professor McGonagall came round the dorms a week later to make a list of who would be staying for the holidays, and Ron signed up at once; Mr and Mrs Weasley were going to Romania to visit his brother Charlie.
"Shall I put you down too, Harry?" she asked, when he didn't speak up.
"No Professor, I'm going to visit my family over Y…Christmas. I would appreciate some advice on how to catch the train back to Kings Cross Station, though. The Dursleys wrote that they're expecting me there at the end of term."
"Oh, I was told… well, never mind. He must've been mistaken. I hope you have a very merry Christmas, Mr. Potter. I'll ensure you're added to the list of students travelling by train from Hogsmeade on the Saturday – don't worry we'll make sure you don't miss it."
The Christmas decorations went up a week later. There was holly and mistletoe everywhere, and a full dozen Christmas trees decorated with icicles, candles, and magical golden baubles. Ron got into yet another fight with Malfoy, and lost them some more points. Draco just ignored Harry, so Harry ignored Draco in turn.
Pansy's latest topic to teach Harry about was Yule, naturally. She told him the legend of the wizard Loki, who slew his enemy through guile with a dart made of mistletoe, a magically grown plant he'd nurtured that could overcome his enemy's invulnerability. And how the earliest wizards native to England, the druids, only ever harvested the mistletoe with a golden sickle, catching it in their white robes as it fell from the tree it grew upon, never touching the earth. She talked of Yule logs, boar hunts, and the winter solstice. She spoke with great enthusiasm about the Saturnalia, masked balls, and the birth of the sun - the Ancient Roman solstice festival Sol Invictus that the wizards kept for centuries, even as the Christians appropriated the solstice date for their god in the Muggle world.
The Great Circles of stones told the Druids and the Ancient wizards when the solstice was due, and everyone would celebrate with dancing and songs and magic - dancing and drumming their power into the Circles to aid the yearly renewal of magic. She spoke dreamily of the many fey races and forest-elves who used to join their celebrations in ages past – now they only found tiny fairies. Yet Hogwarts wouldn't even let fairies come and dance on their trees in the hall. Some of the traditions were too hard to stamp out though, like the candles, and the holy greenery.
Harry found it all too much to take in. Millicent and Daphne usually got bored and wandered off to do something more interesting than listening to Pansy's lectures (if they even showed up), but Tracey often hung around to listen. She usually didn't volunteer much information or commentary herself – she just listened.
Harry knew he'd never remember it all, and he had so many questions he didn't even know where to start. He wanted to write down some notes, but Pansy told him not to. The Old Ways weren't very appreciated at Hogwarts, and being too much of a traditionalist could get you in trouble. "You might think it's all wizarding culture here, Harry. But for centuries the focus at Hogwarts has been to pander to the sensibilities of Christians. Too many witch hunts, too many witch burnings. And in the past few hundred or so years there have been too many panicked parents pulling their children out of Hogwarts, convinced we're all evil witches who will get their children sent straight to hell with all our pagan rubbish. And then if they do that you have new enemies out there in the Muggle world, and untrained witches or wizards breaking the Statute of Secrecy all over the place."
"So what would you say is the most important aspect of Yule, for a beginner who wants to be a respectful, normal wizard who won't offend anyone?" asked Harry, wanting to avoid all the controversy.
"It's impossible to never offend anyone. You know what they say, 'you can't please all of the people all of the time'," said Tracey pragmatically.
"I'd say the most important thing to do, if you can, would be to visit a Circle or a menhir and offer up some of your magic," said Pansy after a bit of thought. "But they're hard to access these days, and it would definitely offend the Light wizards. That is, the more modern ones who don't believe in personal sacrifice."
"The Circles are the great big circles of standing stones, right?" Pansy nodded. "Does your magic come back? Or is it like you're weaker forever?" Harry asked worriedly.
"Oh, it comes back. It's just like casting spells. That draws on your magic too. It doesn't hurt you. It's just good for Magic."
"So what wouldn't offend modern wizards, that's still traditional?"
Pansy shook her head resignedly, her short brown hair bouncing around, and shrugged. "Decorating with mistletoe? Eating ham as part of your feast?"
Tracey suggested fairies.
"Yes! Fairies on your tree," agreed Pansy. "It's a lean, cold time for them at midwinter. Invite some inside to your tree… oh. You'll be with Muggles. Never mind. Stick to mistletoe."
Harry talked it over with Neville, later. Neville worried over the talk of "Light wizards" and sacrifice.
"It sounds a bit like she's in favour of the Dark Arts, Harry, you have to be careful. Really careful. I am not inclined to enmity against Slytherins purely on the basis of house as Ron is. However, it must be said that it holds a lot of children whose parents were on the wrong side of the war. So please do take care."
Harry promised he would be careful, and that he would talk to Neville or someone else trustworthy about anything that bothered him as being too Dark.
Neville agreed that there was nothing wrong with decorating a tree with fairies – his Gran did it every year. Neville and Harry went to the edge of the forest to dig up a tiny fir sapling to put in a pot in their dorm, and they asked Percy to buy them a box of fairies from Hogsmeade to decorate with. It seemed a bit cruel to Harry, but Neville promised that they were kept in some kind of enchanted sleep while in the box that was broken when you opened the lid. It was a strange, delightful festive sight to see tiny little winged people giggling in the corner of the dorm on the branches of their tiny tree. They invited Hermione up to see it too – apparently girls could visit the boys' dorm, just not vice versa. Neville also reminded him privately to get presents for his friends. So a panicked Harry asked the long-suffering Percy to also pick him up a bunch of boxes of whatever chocolates wizards liked to eat, for which he paid in advance of course. They put their gifts under their tree for people to collect when they were heading home (or to wait for Christmas, in Ron's case). Harry also got presents (more chocolates) for Pansy, Millicent, Daphne and Tracey. The girls were delighted, and gave him little gifts to pack to take home a couple of days later. Harry was thrilled. Friends were giving him presents!
Dumbledore sent him an odd note one morning by owl, inviting him to visit in his office for tea. There was a sweet mentioned at the end of the note - eventually after asking around he found out where to go, and that the word must be a password to get by the gargoyle.
Having tea with the Headmaster felt rather awkward. He accepted some tea and some lemon drops (they didn't go together well), and assured Dumbledore that he was settling in nicely. Dumbledore then spent some time talking about all the delightful activities they'd be doing at Hogwarts at Christmas, and chuckled at how much freedom the young folks had. He had a few stories of past students' hijinks and madcap adventures they got up to in a more deserted than usual castle. There was one about his father and his friends making an animated snowman chase people around the grounds that had Harry riveted. Eventually though as the conversation wore on Harry realised that Dumbledore was hoping that he might change his mind and stay at Hogwarts over the Christmas break.
"Well that does sound nice Sir, but it's quite a settled thing. I'll have to miss out on all of that because I'll be at home with the Dursleys."
Dumbledore's twinkle dimmed a little, but he smiled at Harry. "Well, I'm glad to hear you are looking forward to going home. I hope Hogwarts will come to be a second home to you too, one day."
Harry nodded politely.
"I was going to give this to you at Christmas, Harry, but as you're going to go back to the Dursleys' I think perhaps it would be best to give this to you early." Dumbledore passed over a parcel wrapped in colourful red paper decorated with animated roaring gold griffins.
"Do you give all the students a Christmas gift, Sir?" asked Harry, trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice.
"Ah, well this is a special case. I have here something that belonged to your father. He left it in my possession before he died. I thought it was time it was returned to you. I hope you use it well."
Harry unwrapped the gift carefully to reveal a pile of gleaming folds of cloth.
"It's a cloak - try it on, my boy!" smiled Dumbledore.
Harry stroked the silvery-grey shimmering fabric softly. His father wore this. He would treasure it always. He pulled it out to look at it, then folded it back up carefully and went to pack it away in his bag.
"I think I'd rather keep it safe, if that's alright with you. I wouldn't want to rip it by accident. I know how fragile old fabric can be – it tears easily."
"I have a reason for my request, just put it on for a moment, then look down. Trust me."
Harry complied obediently. He looked down at his legs, which weren't there anymore. He shrieked in alarm. Dumbledore laughed.
"Don't panic, Harry! It's an invisibility cloak – it's supposed to do that!"
Harry calmed down after some deep breathing and another lemon drop. And some mental ranting about crazy old wizards, that he didn't share aloud. Dumbledore advised him to have some fun with the cloak, but to remember to avoid the forbidden corridor.
"The treasure hidden down there is not your concern, so best not to worry about it. It's safely guarded with many layers of protection."
So there was a treasure hidden and guarded beneath the trapdoor. That was interesting. A deadly treasure? Or deadly layers of protection? Harry hoped there was child-proofing of some sort on it all. The single locked door stopping you from being eaten by a cerberus didn't inspire his confidence, though.
Harry tried the cloak on again and glanced in a mirror Dumbledore conjured, pulling the hood down so he could see his face. It really was a very cool cloak, now he thought about it. It would be very useful to do some exploring in.
Dumbledore smiled genially and wished him a Merry Christmas, and showed him out of the office.