Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, waiting for the mail to arrive. Across him were Ron and Hermione. Hermione was reading and eating at the same time, but whatever she was reading was apparently more interesting than her porridge, since she hadn't taken a bite for three minutes.

"It's almost the Christmas holidays," Harry said. "It will be great to go back home. I can't wait to see Father Forthill again. His Christmas Mass is… well, it's hard to describe. He makes it come alive, like it's one of the apostles preaching."

"That sounds alright," Ron said. "I'm staying here– students are allowed to stay at the castle during the holidays. Mum and Dad are going to Romania to visit my brother Charlie and Bill's busy in Egypt."

"Didn't you say you have a little sister?" Harry asked. "Will she be going with your parents?"

"Not sure," Ron admitted. "Maybe Ginny'll stay with the Lovegoods. They live a few kilometers over the hill. I've only met them a couple times and they're…"

Ron took a particularly large bite of sausage and said something that Harry wasn't sure was meant to be complimentary towards the Lovegoods or not.

"Why don't you and your brothers come with us for Christmas?" Harry asked. "It doesn't seem fair that you'd be here by yourselves. Christmas is a time for family, so come celebrate with our family"

"Is that allowed?" Hermione asked, looking up from a large book. "Their parents will have expected them to stay here."

"It'll be great," Harry encouraged. "We can check with Professor McGonagall, but I'm sure that she'll allow it. There's the Christmas Mass, and then on Christmas morning, we open our presents from St Nick."

"Harry, there's no such thing as Father Christmas," Hermione said. "Surely, you have to know that by now."

"Oi, yes there is," Ron said. "He's an old friend of Dumbledore's–the story goes that a few months before he stopped Grindelwald, Father Christmas and Dumbledore teamed up to liberate a bunch of Grindelwald's prisoners as their Christmas present."

Hermione stared at Ron, her spoonful of oatmeal halfway to her mouth. Harry looked up–the mail still hadn't arrived. He was just taking a bite out of his own oatmeal when someone reached out from behind him and tugged his glasses off.

"Blimey!"

"You're usually not that unattentive," Molly said, sliding in to sit next to Harry. She didn't give him back his glasses and helped herself to a breakfast pastry.

"Ah," Ron said. "Mail's here."

The mail was here. Dozens and dozens of owls, so many that Harry couldn't count them all. There were more owls than there'd been in weeks, no doubt messages regarding plans for the Christmas holidays were at the forefront of everyone's minds. Harry hoped Hedwig would come to visit–he'd need her to send a message to Mom and Dad to make sure they'd allow Ron to visit. Hedwig did arrive, which wasn't that much a surprise. What was a surprise was that she held an envelope in her beak. Harry took the letter, patted Hedwig on the head, and opened the envelope, reading aloud.

Dear Harry and Molly,

It would be a pleasure and an honor to share our home for the Holy Days with any of your friends who wish to join us. We have already arranged the matter with Headmaster Dumbledore and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. We shall be expecting your arrival on December 20th.

Love always, Mom and Dad.

"How did they know about that?" Harry gapped at the letter. "I didn't even… we only decided five minutes ago!"

P.S. We're your parents. We know everything and we already planned this. We didn't tell you because we wanted it to be a surprise. Oh, and tell Ron to tuck in his shirt."

Ron's ears burned red as he glanced down to make sure his shirt was tucked in. Hermione looked rather smug.

"Well," Molly said. "That's that then. Ron's coming for Christmas."

"From the sounds of the letter," Harry said, "Mom and Dad planned this ahead of time with your parents and Dumbledore."

"And you're surprised?" Molly asked. "Harry, you've never been able to hide anything from our parents."

"Right then," Ron said. "Well, that's brilliant, really."

"Oi!"

Ron flinched as a spoonful of porridge hit him in the side of the head. A second spoonful landed in Harry's bowl. A few seats down the table, Fred and George Weasley gripped dripping spoons, their eyes wide with mischief.

"What's this?" Fred said. "Going to America for the holidays? Well, I know where we're going for Christmas!"

"Wait, what?" Ron asked. He turned back to Harry and Molly. "That wasn't what I was thinking. Would your parents allow that?"

"Why wouldn't they?" George said. "You can't go without us! Christmas is a time for family, after all."

"Right you are George! Can't let little Ronnie go astray from the path of piety without his older brothers acting as role models, now can we?"

George shook his head solemnly. "Wouldn't be very Catholic of us at all, Fred. And we wouldn't want to be un-Catholic in the presence of the Carpenter siblings, now would we?"

"Might try to exorcize us from the castle, they might. Then where would we be?"

Ron, Harry and Molly, along with pretty much every other person in all of Hogwarts, had long learned to ignore Fred and George's back and forth repertoire and waited till they were finished before Ron cut in. "But there isn't time to send a letter to America and back to ask for you two. I… what's that Harry?"

"There was another letter in the envelope," Harry said.

Oh, yes, Fred and Geroge are welcome too. Percy may come if he's so inclined.

"Blimey, they do know everything…" Ron whispered in a slightly horrified voice.

Percy, it turned out, declined to go to Chicago for the holidays, saying something along the lines of having to study. Fred and George of course, took that time to loudly voice their own opinions that he was just staying back to have a light bit of snogging with his new girlfriend Penelope. Percy hadn't exactly denied that, just flushed as red as his scarf and hurried away with his books gathered up in his arms.

Harry was inclined to believe Fred and George, even besides the very guilty looking exit of Percy. It wasn't as if he couldn't study in Chicago, after all. Harry had to admit that having four extra guests for Christmas may have been a little bit more than his parents would have been able to handle.

His trunk had been packed, but neither Ron, his brothers, or Molly for that matter (though that was no great surprise) had finished packing themselves, so at the moment, Harry was by himself. That didn't usually happen; the castle was huge, but there were hundreds of students so there was usually somebody nearby, even if he wasn't necessarily friends with them.

Harry paced the third floor, near the forbidden corridor. Technically speaking, he was not out-of-bounds, since he wasn't trying to get through the corridor. It was usually Molly who tried to justify behavior that Dad would classify with his stern voice as "-skirting around the edge of the line, young lady" but Harry steeled himself. They'd be leaving for home tomorrow, so this was his last chance to try and get some investigating in. He needed to know what had been going on. Things had been quiet since the attack on Halloween, but that didn't mean that there weren't other monsters in the school. His sister had nearly been killed and Harry needed to know if there were any other threats.

The attack had happened in the dungeons, but the third floor had specifically been forbidden. There were plenty of secret passages in the castle–Fred and George used them to take shortcuts to get to their classes on time. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility that there would be a secret passage here, connecting the third floor to the dungeon. Harry walked along, studying the wall. There were plenty of false doors at Hogwarts that were just walls pretending to be doors. Surely, there could be a door that was pretending to be a wall.

Harry ran his fingers against the wall–sometimes, rather than having to use a knob or a latch, you had to tickle the door to get it to open. He walked along, wiggling his fingers, but there was no giggling or squirming or anything that indicated the walls were anything other than walls. Walls in a magical castle, but walls all the same.

Harry crouched down when he got to one of the doors. He wasn't sure if this was the door to the forbidden corridor or not, but it was better than nothing. He undid his shoelace. A trick Molly used on their parents when she wanted to eavesdrop was to do so, and then if she were caught, she'd claim she was only retying her shoe and then she'd be on her way. Harry pressed his ear near the door and strained to hear what might be on the other side.

"POTTER!"

Harry startled and turned around so quickly, he nearly fell over. Standing in front of him, glowering, was Professor Snape. Harry tried to steady himself, but he wound up tripping on his undone shoelace and banging his head against the door.

Professor Snape looked particularly nasty today, his face more lined than normal. Btis of frost clung to his robes.

"What are you doing, Potter?"

"I…er… tying my shoelace, Professor?"

Harry was not nearly as good at lying as Molly was, something his parents always said was something to appreciate, since sinning was not something to be skilled at. Professor Snape quirked an eyebrow as his gaze pressed hard against him, making Harry feel dizzy.

"You are a liar, Potter," Snape said. His mouth twisted into a sinister smile. "Oh, yes, you are a liar, and not a particularly good one at that. The third-floor corridor is out of bounds, Potter. No exceptions. Unless you wish to join your foolish father."

"My father is a great man!"

"I meant your sire, you foolish boy!" Snape snapped. "It would truly take a paragon the likes of which I cannot comprehend to willingly decide to take you into his home, but I know all too well the one who brought you into this world. You're the same as he was–arrogant, spoiled, thinking yourself better than anyone else, that the rules are beneath you! You are out of bounds, Potter! You are in violation of school rules, rules that are designed to protect imbeciles such as yourself!"

Snape's voice had been rising louder and louder as he went on, and Harry took a step back, pressing himself against the wall.

"I have a good mind to place you in detention for the remainder of the year," Snape said. "Such flagrant disregard for the rules. That ought to cost you dearly, Potter."

"But term's over!" Harry protested. "The holidays are about to start! You can't do that!"

"That's quite a shame," Snape said. "But I can most certainly do so, Potter. I am the teacher and you are the student, I am right and you are wrong."

"Pardon me, but if I may interrupt?"

Harry looked over Snape's shoulder. The Headmaster was walking towards them, his robes a brilliant clash of crimson and green.

"What's this about?"

"He was out of bounds!" Snape said. "In direct violation of your orders! And now he's objecting to his well-deserved detentions. I feel a month's worth would have been sufficient, but for his insolence, I'm inclined to lengthen it to two. Perhaps he should be removed from the Quidditch Team as well."

"I wasn't out of bounds!" Harry said. "Not technically!"

"That is true, Professor Snape," the Headmaster said. "But, Harry, why would you come to this corridor in the first place?"

"I…er…"

"Curiosity is not a sin, Harry, but I cannot condone rule-breaking. You shall serve your detention after the holidays are over. For a single week's worth," The Headmaster said with finality. "We needn't spoil the festivities. And dear me, Professor Snape, you know that Father Christmas thinks poorly of you scaring the children like that. Are you trying to get a lump of coal in your Christmas stocking?"

"That was not from Father Christmas! That was a prank from Potter's sire!"

"James got a lump of coal that year too, as I recall," Professor Dumbledore said. "Now, come along. I feel an inclination for a nice cup of hot chocolate from the kitchens, perhaps with some brandy. You look as if you could use one as well, Professor Snape."

"Oh, and Harry?" The Headmaster said, turning just enough so Harry could see the twinkle in his eyes. "You'll trip on your shoelace. Can't have that now, can we? There's a good lad."

The Headmaster flicked his wand and Harry's shoelace tied itself on its own, far tighter than Harry would normally have tied it. He scowled and stomped back up to the staircase. It was completely unfair that he had detention. Harry had never gotten detention before, ever. Getting into trouble with the teachers had been something that Molly had done.

There was something about Snape. Something suspicious. Something sneaky. Sinister, even. The whole thing with the canister, and now the frost on Snape's robes? No, something was definitely going on.

Yes, Snape had saved Molly's life… but did it even matter if he had been the one to put her into danger in the first place? What if he had betrayed Dumbledore's trust, though he wasn't sure why Dumbledore had ever given it to a man so obviously swarmy as him. It wasn't as if there weren't plenty of men who had betrayed their noble leaders throughout history. Demas had fallen away from Paul, allured by the world. Judas had betrayed the Messiah for thirty pieces of silver. Harry's breath grew harsh as he climbed the staircase up towards Gryffindor Tower.

"Now, since you will all be going home for the Christmas holidays," Professor McGonagall said, handing out pieces of parchment to the gathered students, "you are to take care not to practice magic. It is against the school's bylaws and Ministry law."

"Just once," Fred muttered to Harry, "I'd like to see her forget to give us these."

"I heard that, Mister Weasley!" Professor McGonagall said sharply. "I assure you, I will never forget to ensure that you are, at the least, informed of what proper behavior is. Whether or not you choose to attempt to behave is another matter entirely."

"An elephant never forgets," Fred lowered his voice even more, but his grin was one of the most unrepentant that Harry had ever seen. Professor McGonagall might not have heard his taunt.

The five of them walked along the long winding hallways up to the Headmasters office, trailing behind Professor Binns, the only Professor who was not with the rest of the professors taking the other students to Hogsmeade Station, because he could not actually leave the castle.

"It's really great of your parents to be hosting us," Ron said. "This summer, you both should come to the Burrow, ya know! That's what we call our house."

"Why would you call it a burrow?" Molly raised an eyebrow. "Do you live in the dirt?"

"But of course," George said, before Ron could reply. Probably a good thing, Harry reckoned, as Ron's ears had turned pink, and not from the cold chill of the castle. "We live in the dirt and have rocks for pillows and eat roots and earthworms. Ginny's a picky eater, so we have to hold her down to get her to finish her supper. We can practice on you, Molly."

Harry burst out laughing and Ron followed a moment later. They were forced to quiet as they reached an alcove in the wall with a gryphon statue in it. They stopped there, and Harry looked around, a bit confused. "Professor Binns?"

The old ghost started slightly and looked over at him. "Oh yes, yes silly me. Of course you do not know the password, you have not been here before. If only your two companions," he cast a bemused look at Fred and George, "could say quite the same, perhaps everyone in this school could be a great deal happier."

Fred and George grinned insolently back at the old ghost, who quickly turned his head away, fighting a grin. "Believe it or not Professor," George said, "we've been good this month. Haven't been dragged up here. So we don't know this month's password."

"Just tap the statue's beak and say the words, Jumping Jellybeans." Professor Binns said, waving a hand at the statue, which accidentally went through the wall on his left. He winced and pulled it back out, scowling at his hand. "You would be inclined to think that after several centuries in this state, I would remember that I cannot touch objects anymore without great effort." He smiled ruefully at them, wrinkles crinking. "But alas I find myself forgetting once more."

Fred stepped forward and shouted the password, and then with a low audible groan the huge statue began to rotate slowly in place. Then it began to rise upwards, like an escalator of pure stone. Harry stood staring at it, open-mouthed, along with his sister. Fred grabbed the back of his neck, and George Molly's and dragged them onto the stairs. "Come on you two, it's not gonna wait around for us forever!"

They all stood on the stair near the top as it slowly roasted until they were at the doorway. They all got off, and found the door to the Headmasters office standing ajar. When they walked in, Harry expected the Headmaster to be waiting patiently for them to arrive. Instead, all they found was a note that told them that he was very sorry he could not see them off but he was quite busy at the moment and a jar of Floo Powder sitting next to the note.

One by one they each pinched a handful of the powder and threw it into the roaring fire, all shouting the same phrase. "Carpenter House, Chicago!"

Harry was engulfed by his mother as soon as he stepped out of the fireplace. It'd been months since he'd last hugged his mother and Harry found himself leaning into it. Mom didn't let go until the fireplace whooshed and Molly stepped out of it. Mom flung her arms around Charity, but Molly squirmed away after only a few moments. Ron, Fred and George were right behind them and with five trunks, the room had gotten crowded.

Mom fussed over all of them, brushing soot off their sleeves and hair, shepherding them into the Carpenters' house. Daniel waved and clapped his hands from his playpen. He'd gotten a lot bigger in the last four months. The house smelled like gingerbread and cinnamon and it made Harry's mouth water.

"Where's Dad?" Molly asked, shaking her cloak off. "He didn't have to work on Christmas did he?"

"Your father's worked on the Holy Days before, Molly, but to answer your question, not this time. He had a regular errand to run," Mom said, checking the clock. "But he should be home within the hour."

The hour turned out to be three, but Harry barely noticed, since there was so much to unpack. Ron, Fred and George were all going to be sharing his room for the next two weeks and trying to space everything out as evenly as possible. They were just finishing up when Dad drove up in his car.

"He's home!"

"Let's go see if he needs help," George said. "If he's this late, something might have happened."

"You don't know Chicago traffic," Harry said. "You'll… well, you'll see."

Before they reached the door, there was an extremely loud squeal and Harry almost drew his wand before he remembered it was still in his trunk. There was a second squeal, even louder and more high-pitched when Harry and his friends reached the stairs. The squeals were coming from Molly, She was dangling in Dad's arms, her own arms around his neck, her feet almost a foot off the ground.

"Dad! I missed you!" Molly cried. "What took you so long?"

"One thing led to another," Dad said. "But… I did get your Christmas present."

"But you always say that we're not supposed to peek at our presents," Molly said. "Dad…what are you up to?"

"Can I come in now?"

Dad shifted and Harry's jaw dropped. Standing in the doorway was a very short, very old man with white hair, holding an umbrella in one hand and a cane in the other.

"UNCLE SHIRO!" Harry and Molly yelled in unison as they both rushed over and gave the old man large hugs.

Harry hadn't seen Shiro in over a year! Until this moment he hadn't realized just how much he had missed him.

"Ah, children, children. Give a tired old man a minute to at least get in the door, will you?" asked Shiro with a wan smile as Molly and Harry disentangled themselves from him, Harry chagrined and Molly not caring as usual. Shiro pushed his way through the doorway, and behind him was a woman who had to duck her shoulders in to push her way through the doorway followed behind him.

"Ah, Gehd! Was wondering if you were ever going to finally make your way inside, or if you were going to leave me freezing in the cold forever," the woman behind him grumbled as she pushed her way through the doorway.

"Aunt Samira!" Molly shouted as she brushed past Uncle Shiro, who was placing his umbrella in the stand and leaning on the cane as he walked towards the kitchen. Harry hugged Aunt Samira, where Molly was already clinging to her. Aunt Samira lifted her effortlessly and tousled her hair fondly as Molly dangled in the crook of her arm.

If you had asked Harry, before he had met Hagrid, he would have said that Aunt Samira was the largest person he had ever met. She had never gone and told Harry or Molly what her exact height was, but it was definitely seven feet at the minimum. She wasn't wide or even particularly buff, her strength came from her size itself, mass equating strength. Plus the decade of training with a sword probably helped with how easily she picked Molly up in her arms. She had brown hair that was cut into a buzzcut, and about a dozen bangles all told on her wrists and ankles. Her eyes were a soft brown, almost like a cow's, though Harry felt guilty for thinking of that comparison, but it was true. She had a cross hanging around her neck, and a duffel bag hanging from the unoccupied hand.

"Are you staying for Christmas?" asked Molly excitedly as Harry went and helped Uncle Shiro get his duffel bag out of the car.

Aunt Samira and Uncle Shiro laughed and traded glances with one another. "Greedy one, isn't she?" said Aunt Samira with a grin. "Molly, as much as this might come as a shock to you, we have our own family too you know?. We have to get back to them for Christmas. We are sleeping over and then tomorrow night Mikey is driving us back to the airport."

Harry winced, waiting for his mother to start yelling at Aunt Samira. Nothing got on her nerves more than the nickname Mikey, and she knew it and loved to use it to rile up his mother. But Mom didn't yell, just shook her head and walked into the next room, choosing to yell up the stairs instead.

"Boys, you three almost done unpacking up there?"

"Yes, Mrs. Carpenter!" yelled Fred and George in unison, as Ron chimed in after the fact that he too, was done and coming down now. Aunt Samira put her duffel bag by the umbrella stand as well, right next to Uncle Shiro's umbrella and sword, and immediately began asking Mom what she could do to help in the kitchen.

Ron came thudding down the stairs, holding his treasured chess set in his arms. "Hey, Harry! Where could I set this up, do you know?"

"How about the liv-" Harry was cut off by an abrupt clatter from behind him, and he spun around to see that Ron had dropped his chess board on the ground, and was standing there with a wide-eyed expression, every hair on his body, including the ones on his head, standing straight up as if he had just stuck his finger in an electrical socket.

"Uh, you good Ron?" asked Harry hesitantly as he stepped forward and lauded a hand on his friend's arm. Molly came skidding to a stop inside the room, also looking at Ron with a worried look, after she came running because of the noise.

Ron blinked slowly. "Bloody hell, Harry. What is that?" His voice came out strained and hoarse, like he was speaking through some great pressure.

"What's what?" asked Harry, completely confused. He covertly motioned with his fingers for Molly to go get Dad.

"Th-that! You can't feel it Harry? It's like a tuning fork is going off in my head." Ron rubbed his head and looked around wildly.

Dad arrived a few seconds later, and knelt down in front of Ron. "What is it, son?"

"I've never felt magic this strong before." Ron said, voice slowly returning to normal and him calming down. "There's a thrum in my head. Fred, George!"

They had been near the top of the stairs, and when they heard Ron yell they ran down the stairs, all prepared to harass their younger brother. But when they too got down the stairs, they stopped abruptly in the front hall. "Bloody hell," they muttered in unison.

Harry watched their pale faces in confusion. What the heck was going on? What could be so magically powerful they would all sen- His thoughts broke off as he suddenly came to the answer. His fists clenched by his sides and his eyes widened by their own accord in realization. "Dad, can I speak to you in the other room for a moment please?"

Dad looked up, about to tell him he was busy, when he saw the look on his face and nodded. He got up off the ground and stepped inside the kitchen, sliding the door shut to cut them off from the front hall. "What is it, son?" Dad asked in a low voice, because honestly the door wasn't that good for soundproofing.

"Dad…" Harry's mind was still working to catch up with what his instincts were telling him, so he spoke slowly. "I think that… you know how the swords give off faith magic?"

Realization flashed across Dad's face, and he saw his lips tighten. "Oh Christ preserve me. How could I have been so stupid? All three swords in one house, of course they would pick up on it on some level." Dad turned and he didn't quite run down the hall to get to the laundry room, where Mom was changing Daniel's diaper, but he came close to it. As he went, Harry heard him shout out, "Charity, we need to talk. There's a slight-" he got out of earshot and Harry couldn't hear anymore of it.

Molly came into the room sliding the door shut behind her, and looked around. "What's going on, bro? Wait, where did Aunt Samira go?" Harry jerked a thumb towards the hallway and the laundry room. "Why did her and Dad go that way?" she said, looking more confused than ever.

"The thing that the twins and Ron feel? They're feeling the Swords, Molly." Harry explained, surprised she hasn't figured it out by now. He figured it was fairly obvious once you thought about it for a few seconds.

"What? How?" Molly threw up her hands in confusion in her normal over the top dramatic manner.

Harry sighed and fingered his crucifix around his neck. "Think about it. We know the swords give off faith magic right? Operates on a different frequency than both of us, so to speak?"

"Yes…" Molly said hesitantly.

"Well the frequency is super weak, but with three here?"

Molly's eyes widened and she cursed under her breath. "Well crap, bro. What do we do?"

"You," a sharp voice cut through the conversation as Mom marched into the kitchen, looking very harried, "will do nothing, Miss Molly. We will deal with it." She opened the door to the main hall, revealing a scene of, to be expected, chaos. Obviously the twins had gotten over their confusion, because they were in the midst of holding Ron down and giving him various noogies across his head and body.

"Fred and George Weasley!" Mom's voice sliced through the air like a whip, and Harry felt a small smile play across his lips as he saw the two of them leap to their feet, looking around to see how exactly their mother had gotten here and where she was. Harry did admit that, add a British accent, and Mom would sound remarkably like the infamous Mrs. Weasley. Harry had heard her voice when the twins had taken a step too far in their pranks, setting off multiple cherry bombs in toilets around the school, including the teachers ones (somehow), prompting Mrs. Weasley to send a Howler that they had opened at breakfast.

Once they realized their mother was not crouching somewhere, ready to attack them, they relaxed.

"Yes," began Fred.

"Mrs. Carpenter?" Finished George, both of them grinning.

"We were just–"

"Having a little fun–"

"With our baby bro–"

They knew how annoying their doublespeak could be, and it was one of their favorite weapons to employ in their vast arsenal.

"Cut it off, you two. Help your poor brother up and get in here. We need to talk," Mom said, completely overriding their attempts at rattling her and motioning with her head to come into the kitchen.

Harry sat down in his chair, so no one else could steal it, and Shiro leaned over with a small groan, and placed baby Daniel in his high chair, carefully dislodging the baby's grasping hands from where they were tangled in his short goatee. He sat down next to the baby, having grabbed the cup of yogurt from the counter, and began to spoon it into his waiting mouth. Aunt Samira stayed by the kitchen stove, looming like a statue, as Dad sat down at the head of the table, clasping his large, calloused hands in front of him. Mom took her chair at the far end of the table, and gradually the Weasleys and Molly chose their seats and everyone was settled down.

"Boys, there is something we have to tell you. But…" Dad took a second to collect himself, not from emotion but to collect his thoughts. "Family is the most important thing in the world, in my opinion and the opinion of the Good Book. Which is why what I'm about to ask you is so hard for me to do. To explain the strange magic you are feeling, I will have to ask you that this information never leaves this room until I, Shiro or Samira give you permission to do so. I ask you to swear on the Bible."

Almost as if on cue, Shiro, who Harry hadn't even noticed had moved, returned from the living room and laid a Bible on the table.

Fred and George traded glances with each other, having one of those conversations they somehow managed to do with just their eyes, and they seemed to reach a conclusion.

Fred laid his hand on the Bible firmly. "I solemnly swear I am up to no go- oh wait, wrong one." He cracked his charming grin of his, and Harry found himself grinning as well, even though he had no clue why he was. "I swear on this Bible that what I hear shall not leave this room until decided otherwise."

After that, he removed his hand from the Bible, and George reached out. He did it more hesitantly than his twin brother, his hand hovering for a few seconds before coming down on the Bible. And also unlike his brother, he didn't make any confusing jokes or grin or anything like that. He just took a deep breath, nodded with his face serious and said. "I swear on the Bible." And that was that.

Finally, it was Ron's turn. He looked around for a moment, seeing something that evidently reassured him, and he put his hand down and swore himself to the Bible as well, speaking much more quickly than his brothers so he almost stumbled over the words.

After all three of them had sworn on the Bible, Dad looked at Uncle Shiro and Aunt Samira, who both nodded.

"Well I suppose the first thing I should ask is, how much do you know about Jesus Christ?"

Ron scratched the back of his neck. "Isn't that the guy Harry wears around his neck? Used an illusion to fake his death?"

"No, he was a necromancer who raised himself from the dead, dummy," Fred replied, smacking Ron on the back of the head.

"Don't hit each other," Dads voice rumbled in a low tone, and Fred visibly gulped and lowered his hand. "Good. And no, you are wrong. I see we will have a lot of ground to cover." For the next half hour or so, Dad slowly and painstakingly explained, with the help of his fellow Knights, exactly who Jesus was, how and why he was crucified, where and when and why, somehow, Jesus Christ had returned.

"Okay, so I understand everything about Jesus now, but what does that have to do with the strange magical energies that we have been feeling?" asked George, perplexed and clearly intrigued, speaking before his twin, which was not a normal occurrence.

Here Uncle Shiro leaned forward and placed a hand on top of Michaels to stop him from speaking and took over. "I will take it from here," he said in his heavily accented voice, and Michael nodded and pulled his hand back.

Uncle Shiro began to talk about the aftermath of the Crucifixion of Jesus, and the importance of balance in the world. "Jesus giving his life for humanity was such a source of goodness and hope for the world, the scales needed to be…" he looked to Dad imploringly, "what's the word in English?"

"Rebalanced," provided Dad, and Uncle Shiro nodded gratefully.

"Yes. Rebalanced. The scales needed to be rebalanced, for one side must always be equal with other. So since the Son of God cleansed Original Sin from this world, in return the former Archangel Lucifer was given enough of a window to send thirty of his best soldiers, Angels who had followed him from the beginning of the Fall, back into the mortal world. One Fallen was bound each to the silver coins of Judas.

"Why Judas?" interrupted George, looking perplexed. "He wasn't aligned with the Devil, he just helped Jesus be killed."

Uncle Shiro nodded approvingly at the fact that George was clearly thinking about it. "Since he betrayed Jesus like how Lucifer had betrayed God, he became a conduit for his power and the paid coins became the new Apple. They do not have full power, the holder of the coin must accept them in before they can use their body for their will."

"But what does that have to do with the magical thrumming I'm feeling inside my head?" asked Ron, sounding slightly exasperated. In response, Uncle Shiro picked up the spoon he had been using to feed Daniel, who was nodding off in his highchair, and whacked him across the hand. "Patience, boy. All answers come in time."

He reached over and grabbed his cane from where it was resting on the counter and laid it across the table. The Weasley's all quickly hid their hands under the table as Uncle Shiro grabbed the handle and the end of the cane and slowly slid them apart. "This is what you have been feeling. Because Lucifer made thirty Coins, God made three Swords to protect humankind and free will. This is one of them."

Aunt Samira went over to the front hall and came back, laying the duffel bag on the table and unzipping it, revealing a large curved sword laying inside, wrapped up in a t-shirt. Uncle Shiro cast an annoyed look at her, and she had the grace to at least look away with embarrassment, but Harry saw she still rolled her eyes. Uncle Shiro believed heavily in the fact that you must always keep your sword clean and stored properly, and oiled regularly to boot. Aunt Samira was of the mindset that they were magical swords from God, and besides wiping off blood they didn't need any other upkeep than that. Hence the sloppily wrapped t-shirt to hide it from prying eyes if the bag was left slightly unzipped.

"Yup, this is the second one. Nice and handy old sword, not like the little twig the old man's got." She said with a half-grin, running a hand down the curved blade. "And the best part?" She tapped the pommel where a sun was engraved in it. "Can use this to seal my letters."

Dad came back in through the back door and held his own wrapped cloth in his hand. He subscribed to Uncle Shiro's world view, and he always kept his sword clean and oiled. He laid it on the rapidly crowding table and unwrapped the cloth, revealing a huge broadsword that dwarfed the other two at the table in girth and length.

"And this is the third Sword, Amorrachius. Or you may know it as Excalibur." Dads eyes twinkled as he saw the redheads' reactions to that name. Harry had written to his parents about how Merlin was a commonly used name for cursing or expressing shock, and Harry knew just how much that name would mean to them, even if it was just associated with the great Merlin from legends.

"These are called Swords of the Cross. With all three in the same household, you must have felt the magic resonating from them and that's what's pounding in your head."

"What… are they?" asked Fred and George in unison, but for once they seemed to be out of jokes and were just amazed.

"These," said Dad with grave seriousness, "are called the Swords of the Cross. We are the wielders, the Knights who protect the innocent." He touched the pommel of each one, where to varying degrees of visibility sat the top of an old nail.

"Bloody hell! Is that what I think it is?" Ron swore as he leaned down and looked upon the nail.

"The nails that nailed the Son of God to the cross, yes." Dad said with finality. "Now do you understand why you have been sworn to secrecy? Most of your own Ministry does not even know about the existence of the autonomous Fallen. If the public Wizarding World found out, there would be panic and chaos."

The twins and Ron agreed that it needed to be secret, though they looked shaken. Harry winced, imagining what it might be like if they knew just how many things were out there that the Wizarding World had no clue about, thankfully ignorant while the Council threw themselves to the front lines to preserve that innocence.

They got over their shock quickly, and began to pester the three knights to tell them stories about the Fallen and over the course of dinner, the three courses to be specific. Aunt Samira happily did so, telling them a story about how she had been heading home to visit her sister about five years ago when there was engine troubles so they had to divert the flight and touch down in Cairo. So when she got out she decided to visit the pyramids while she was waiting till the next day for a new plane ride to be available. When she got there, she found one of the pyramids shut down for maintenance.

"But the thing was," she said, tapping the side of her forehead with a grin, "I recognized him. And judging by the expression on his face, he recognized me as well."

"Who was it?" Asked Ron in a hushed voice, his eyes wide and flushed with the same excitement he usually only reserved for when he was talking about the latest players in the Quidditch game.

She grinned, drawing out the moment. "It was Ursiel, Feathiel and Gadiel, working under Lasciel at the time. Magog was also there, presumably on loan from a Denarian leader named Tessa. They were trying to break into one of the more ancient Pharaoh crypts. Apparently rumors about an ancient scroll was supposed to be buried with him with some ingredient list to make… something or other.. It's not important." She waved her hands to dismiss it, and then spent the next five minutes explaining to the perplexed Weaselys who exactly the names she just dropped were. She then went on to tell how she dueled them, and managed to stop them from getting the scroll they so desperately wanted by… burning out the chamber.

"I heard about that!" Ron exclaimed when she got to the part about the secret chamber burning.

Aunt Samira looked up sharply, not a little bit confused. "How did you hear about it?" She asked hesitantly.

"Oh, my brother Bill works as a curse-breaker for Gringotts, the Wizarding Bank. They had an absolute fit when they heard so many precious artifacts had been ruined. Blamed it on fire newts let in by attempted grave robbers if I remember correctly."

After that, Dad and Uncle Shiro also shared a story or two, with some reluctance.

Man, it's nice to see everyone getting together. I haven't realized just how much I've missed them, thought Harry in a sudden flash of soberness as he watched everyone laughing as Fred and George animatedly re-enacted one of their pranks on Filch that had gotten them detention for over a week. He glanced over at Molly, who was laughing along with everyone else. And thank goodness Molly seems to be enjoying herself once more. It's been… God in Heaven, has it been a month since I've seen her truly laugh? The realization hit him like a truck. He hadn't seen her laugh, no. He had rarely even seen her smile that much, not since… not since the attack. He knew it hit her hard, but he had been so self-absorbed in schoolwork and mastering his new-found magic, he hadn't even stopped to think about how deeply it had truly affected her. He made a vow to himself, among the laughter and the good food and the family around him, that he would make this Christmas vacation the best it could possibly be for his adopted twin sister. They both deserved it.

"Ugh. Why do we have to wear these stuffy suits for your creepy cult thing? Crikey, thought I was done with ties and uniforms for the next two weeks," complained Ron as he readjusted his tie for the millionth time as he sat in the back of the minivan next to Harry.

"Ron, aren't your parents Catholic as well?" asked Harry, a little exasperated at the constant complaints from his best friends.

"Yeah they are," chimed in Fred from the row in front of them.

"Not exactly practicing though," said George in tandem. "They are just loosely religious."

"Wizards frown on religion in that way. Think it's stupid frankly. After all, most of the miracles Jesus does in the Good book," Fred continued.

"We can do by the time we graduate!" George finished. Harry idly wondered if it was even possible for them to speak in full sentences without each other.

"Doesn't mean I wanna sit here and listen to some cranky old git for three hours sitting on a hard wooden bench," Ron still grumbled, but without any real force behind it anymore. Simply because it was a thing to do. Ron did love to hear his own voice sometimes, Harry had learned quickly. Maybe because his was so often drowned out at home? But no, Harry did not pretend to be a philosopher. He just knew Ron liked to talk a lot, even if it came off in the form of complaints.

They pulled into the parking lot and despite being a landmark, a staple in Chicago, Saint Mary's Church of the Angels was not actually as crowded as one might expect. There were a few dozen cars to be sure, but most people saw the church as a huge symbol of the church, not an actual church in and of itself. So the room looked startlingly empty when they walked in, picking up their pamphlets at the front door and picking seats near the front. Mom had to stop the twins from sneaking away and trying to spike the wine with some potion to make it ten times more potent and Ron kept pacing restlessly up and down the aisle.

Finally, after about a half an hour, Father Forthill came on stage and began to speak in his particular cadence of voice and with his quiet, unassuming demeanor that slowly grew with passion the longer he spoke.

"My flock, my friends," Father Forthill said, "my brothers and sisters, my children, my beloved guests…Merry Christmas, my children. Merry Christmas to one and all. It is a privilege and a gift from Almighty God that I am able to celebrate another blessed Christmas with all of you. Now, let us begin…

"What is Christmas?" Father Forthill asked. "Is it a time to gather with family and friends? Is it a time to give gifts? Is it a time to get stuck in traffic because there's six inches of snow on the roads that wasn't there an hour ago? It is those things, and it is more. It is reconciliation between God and man. On that fateful day, so many years ago, when Jesus was born of the Virgin Mary, it was the culmination of so many prophecies. The prophet Isaiah foretold it, centuries before Jesus was born. As it is written, Behold, a virgin will be with child and bear a son, and she will call His name Immanuel!

"Immanuel!" Father Forthill repeated. "Immanuel! Immanuel! God with us! The Holy God, the Creator of the universe, sought us, when we were still sinners. And He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, who is God, to bridge the divide. We are the least of these. We are greedy, we are envious, we are boastful, we are resentful, we lie and mislead and distort the truth, we take shortcuts to better convenience ourselves at the expense of others. We hate and we lust and we ignore those who need us. Who would want anything to do with the likes of us? A loving, merciful Heavenly Father!"

"My friends, listen to me!" Father Forthill extorted, jabbing a finger up to Heaven. "God, in His mercy sent His son! His son! To reconcile with us, unholy sinners! What better gift could there be than that?"

Father Forthill continued his sermon, occasionally recalling verses from the Old Testament, especially from the Book of Genesis, but he mostly stuck to the Gospel of Luke. He emphasized that Mary, Elizabeth and John the Baptist all knew of the coming of the Messiah.

"In the womb, John the Baptist leapt with joy! He knew! He knew the Messiah was coming, before he was even born! Think of it, my friends! When we are small, everything is big and unusual and different. As we grow, we learn and we study and we gain knowledge. But as a baby, John the Baptist had the greatest knowledge of all. What do we make of this gift then, the gift of reconciliation, of the Father's love for us?

"Let us pray," Father Forthill said, and Harry shut his eyes and bowed his head. He heard shuffling as everyone else in the pews followed suit. Father Forthill's words were louder than before. "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name."

Three hours later, the Carpenters and the Weasley's walked out into the lightly drifting snow and got in their van. Harry felt so rejuvenated from the sermon. Hogwarts didn't have a chapel room, let alone a pastor to give a sermon on a weekly basis. This was the first time since August he had attended mass, and he was once again refilled with reminders of how great God was.

I suppose that being surrounded by hundreds of kids who can do magic like me, God kind of lost His novelty compared to that. He mused as he stared out the window, looking at the softly drifting snow as it coated the ground in a thin layer of white. The first thing Ron did when he got in the car was rip off his suit jacket and tie.

"Lay it out neatly, Ronald. I don't want to have to iron it," Mom's voice came from the front seat, and he sighed and laid it neatly, pressing it flat on the empty seat. The twins were oddly silent as they came in, with George having a quiet pensive look on his face. Everyone pretty much stayed silent the whole ride home, looking out the windows. Once they were home they went inside and changed into more comfortable clothes. Sadly the snow had stopped by then, the thin dusting it had left already melting away as if it had never even been there.

"Boys!" Dad shouted up the stairs in his booming voice. "Get some warm clothes on, and we'll go out to Michigan Avenue and browse some stores, how does that sound?"

Molly made an indignant squawk and Dad replied, "And girls as well." Molly snorted and went to her room, and Harry rushed to his room and changed as quickly as he could, throwing his clothes on over his head, and getting his thickest pants out and sliding on his thermal underwear under the pants. Once done, he went to the back door and grabbed his hat that Mom had knitted for him last winter once he had outgrown his last one, shoving it on his head and shambled his way to the door.

"Ready," he shouted as waited for everyone else to assemble. Ron seemed excited by the possibility of doing some muggle shopping, and the twins were already making plans to see what they could buy to "make Filch's life more exciting for him."

When they got to the shopping district and debarked the car, Ron and the twins stared open-mouthed at the sight around them. There were decorations everywhere, huge wreaths and stings of lights across the street lamps. There was fake snow on top of roofs and window sills to give the illusion of snow everywhere, and the big spectacle, the thing that took everyone's attention, was the huge tree in the center of the square, a pine tree decorated with ornaments the size of Harry's head. It was an obvious copy of Rockefeller Square, though it paled in comparison. But that didn't make it any less impressive, not by a long shot. It was a huge spectacle, and to add one final touch, Christmas music was blaring out of all the speakers up and down the street. Thankfully they were synchronized this time, last year when Harry had come here, each song had been playing a different song when you walked near it and it had driven him nearly insane.

"Wow" Ron's eyes were wide, trying to take in everything at once. "There's so much stuff here, Harry! So many things. Where do we even start?!"

"Everyone," Dads voice commanded them. "I will let you all go off on your own. You have one hour, then I expect you to meet me in Wrigley Park, do you understand?" Everyone nodded their agreement, but Dad was not done. "Also Fred and George, I expect you to stay with the kids, no running off on your own." They nodded, though a bit more reluctantly than a second ago. Dad then pulled out his wallet and began to leaf through it, eventually pulling out a few bills and handing it to all of them. "Here. You all get 100 dollars to use as you see fit. Have fun." Dad smiled and then turned and began to walk away, pulling his coat around him for comfort.

Harry looked at Molly, slightly shocked. They had never been taken here and given free rein of the place, like ever. And now they got money and were only watched by marginally older (and far more immature) twins? Harry was personally a little worried how it could all go wrong, but he knew before he even looked at Molly's face that she was excited by this possibility, and one glance only confirmed it.

He felt a small smile tug on his lips as well, though his mind was still reeling with the possibility of all the things that could potentially go wrong, and they began to make their way to the shops, stopping to ogle at all the Christmas window displays so they only got to about one shop every five to ten minutes.

They bought a whole bunch of things, though Harry tried his best to not use up all the money that was given to him. Molly ran out of her money first, which was unsurprising frankly. They trooped through the milling mass of people, heads down and shoving their way between the masses, as every inch of the street and many of the shops were jam packed with panicked people doing last minute Christmas shopping for their families or spouses or anyone else.

Ron and the twins and to a lesser extent even Molly were all overtaken by the wonder of their surroundings and their new found-freedom. Harry was a bit more reserved however, and noticed some things they had not. There were not many people standing around relaxed, for the most part hurrying from store to store clutching their bags tight, faces drawn. There were no big groups of people waiting to take pictures at the giant Christmas tree, or sitting at the outside restaurant tables eating food, though there were plenty inside that could have used the outside tables. And there were at least three times as many policemen as he normally saw on the Avenue, standing at practically every corner and watching the crowd with hard, tense eyes. The whole atmosphere had a current on tenseness about it, while big signs on every window had reminders of the newly installed curfew on it, telling everyone they would be closing early due to it. Harry tried his best to put it out of his mind and just focus on the shopping, which was chaotic enough that it quickly dominated his attention once more.

After an hour, of which Harry was getting very exhausted by the end of it, the timer that he had set on his old wind-up watch went off, so he gathered everyone from where they had scattered around the large store and began to herd them towards the door,, which was a good ten minute walk away. A small corner of his mind noticed that the strange emptiness persisted at the park, even more so here actually. There was practically no one there as the light was fading from the sky. They got there just as the sun dipped below the buildings and dusk officially started, Harry hoping they would get there in time.

As it turns out, he didn't have to worry. When they got there, they sat around waiting for another twenty minutes before Dad finally showed up, covered in sawdust and wood chippings, hands deep in his pockets. "Ah, sorry kids. I lost track of time. Did you all have a fun time?" He said and listened patiently as everyone began yammering over each other, all trying to tell Dad what they got individually. Dad grinned as Ron showed him all the Muggle candy he had newly discovered and how much he was loving it, while Molly was showing all the clip-on earrings and nose rings that she had gotten that Harry knew Mom would kill her for once she saw them. They walked to the car as they showed him their stuff, and inside the car there was also a light dusting of sawdust on the driver's seat.

"Dad, did you go back home to work while we shopped?" Harry asked, a little annoyed if he was being honest, that Dad would choose working over spending time shopping with them. He hadn't seen Dad in four months and he suddenly decided to turn into a work-a-holic?

Dad just looked in the rearview mirror and grinned, sharing a conspiratorial wink with Harry that made part of his annoyance disappear just like that. "Something like that, son."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Molly chimed in, catching the wink.

"You'll see, sweetheart. Promise," Dad said before turning his eyes back to the road so he could carefully navigate out of the park without hitting anyone.

Once they got home, Mom had them all go upstairs and shower. "Mom, why do we have to shower?" complained Molly as she slowly took off her scarf and hat that had been knit for her by Mom as well.

"Molly, you were just out in the huge crowds surrounded by a whole bunch of germs on every person. Did you really just ask why you need to go take a shower?" Mom's voice was bemused as she raised an eyebrow, somehow managing to cook dinner on the stove while bouncing baby Daniel on her hip.

Molly sighed and rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Mom." Even though she had spent the most time complaining and arguing with Mom, she somehow got first dibs on their bathroom, while the Weasleys took turns using the bathroom on the first floor. Harry considered asking Mom if he could use their bathroom in the master bedroom, but he didn't want a repeat of the last time that question had been asked.

So while he waited impatiently in his room for Molly to finish her ten hour routine in the bathroom, he flipped through one of his comic books from his shelf as he waited. He quickly put it back, however. What was interesting about reading about Batman when he could do magic? It just didn't hold his attention anymore, it all seemed so plain and boring. So he laid down, dropping the comic to the floor beside him, and stared up at the ceiling until he heard the creak of the hinges swing open. He leaped off the bed, bundling his Christmas pajamas in his arms and pushing past Molly.

"Finallyyyy." he groaned as he turned the water on, having to turn up the temperature from the absolute freezing ice that his sister preferred for some unknown reason, and jumped in. He made sure to scrub down every inch of his body, worried about the said germs that his mother had mentioned. Finally he got out, looking as red as a lobster, though he wasn't sure if it was from how vigorously he scrubbed or the fact that the water was steaming now, as he had slowly increased the temperature over the course of the shower, testing his limits for fun. He dried off and changed, and then slipped into his pajamas, making sure his hair was all neat because Mom would definitely make them take a Christmas picture together.

Sure enough when he got downstairs, even though he could see the steaming turkey sitting in the center of the table, he was forced to line up in front of the Christmas tree along with everyone else, while Dad set up the timer on the camera across the room.

"Hey, how did your Mom get our exact sizes?" Ron whispered out of the side of his mouth as he stood ramrod straight and smiled in his identical striped Christmas pajamas.

"Honestly, I'm not sure either, Ron," Harry said with a small shrug as he smiled for the camera, speaking out of the side of his mouth.

"Isn't it obvious?" Fred commented. "Her and Mum obviously got in contact and exchanged gossip with each other about us."

Mom took that moment to smack them both on the back of their heads and hissed quietly, "Focus on the camera boys, or you're not going to get any of the good food when we sit down."

Once the pictures had been taken, George rubbed the back of his head and scowled at Mom's retreating backside. "Definitely exchanged information about us. Little disturbing how quickly your Mum got comfortable smacking around kids she met less than a week ago, Molly."

Molly grinned. "Oh yeah. That woman's got no shame."

"Or problems with hearing, young lady. Get in here and help me set the table right now." Mom called from the other room, a hint of a smile in her tone.

Ron plopped himself down in one of the chairs at the table and Harry winced. A fatal mistake was to show yourself doing nothing in the clear view of Mom. Sure enough, she zeroed in on Ron's lack of activity and traded a long look with Dad, where they seemed to decide something right then and there.

"Ron," Dad said in a gentle voice, laying his hand on Ron's shoulder, who turned to look at him. "I know this is a bit late, but would you help me out tomorrow in the shed? I hear you're good with chess, and I need someone with good attention to detail to help me out."

Ron briefly considered saying no, Harry could see it flicker across his face, but he decided against it and nodded. "Sure, Mr. Carpenter. I guess if you need help I'll help you."

"You guess?" Dad said wryly, raising an eyebrow as he dropped his hand from Ron's shoulder.

Ron grimaced and said, "I mean I would love to help you so much outside with manual labor instead of using magic."

Dad grinned, a sparkle in his eye and winked at Ron. "That's more like it, son."

Somehow, with the magic that Dad possessed, just the act of winking at Ron instantly dispelled his grumpiness and he grinned back at Dad before Dad began to help transfer the food to the dinner table.

After what felt like forever to Harry's grumbling stomach, all the food was done and they sat down at the table together.

"Molly, would you like to say grace tonight?" Mom asked as she made Daniel sit still in his high chair, where he was trying to reach the food on the table.

Molly looked up from where she was staring at her food, surprise evidently written across her face. It wasn't the fact she was being asked to say grace, but clearly who was doing the asking. "Sure, Mom." She replied, spreading her arms out to either side. Mom grasped her left hand while Ron grabbed her right one, and they all linked around the table, Harry's right hand in Mom's and his left in Fred's. He bowed his hand and closed his eyes, mouthing along the words of prayer under his breath as Molly said them in a loud, clear voice. "Amen." She finished, and the rest of the table also voiced their Amen's as Harry dropped his hands and sat forward, eager to start on his meal.

After what seemed like no time at all, dinner and dessert was already gone. "Harry, can you collect all the plates for me please?" Mom asked as she came back down from putting Daniel down for bed, who had gotten quite cranky near the end of the meal. "And hurry if you want to be able to watch Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer before you go to bed!" She added as she began to take the food that hadn't been eaten and place it in tupperware.

Harry, in the midst of picking up the last dish, stopped abruptly. "Wait, Mom!" She turned and raised an eyebrow at him as deep sadness overtook him. "We won't be able to watch the movie anyway, remember. We can't use the television now that we," he gestured fruitlessly at himself and the rest of them.

A small smile played across Mom's lips before she quickly ducked her head to cover it, pretending that she had stepped on something. "Oh, yes. I suppose you're right, the living room isn't big enough for you to be out of range of the television."

Dad came over with more food in his huge hands and placed it on the counter, before frowning sadly at Harry, who still hadn't moved under the weight of this revelation. "How sad. I never even thought about that. Truly a tragedy, dear."

"Oi, I can tell from years of watching my siblings lie their way out of punishment you two are up to something, if you don't mind me saying. What is it?" Ron interjected as they continued to shake their heads sadly.

"Yeah. Dad, what is it?" Molly whined as she picked up the silverware and brought them to the sink to be washed, dropping them with a clatter and then giving Dad her best puppy-dog expression.

Dad broke character for the briefest of moments to sweep Charity abruptly up in his massive arms and kiss her on the cheek, whispering something in her ear. "No, let's make them work for the information, honey. Make them clean the kitchen first, then we can tell them. Let's borrow some of this lazing about that I've seen Ronald perfect over the last few days."

"Hey, that's not true one bit!" Ron protested. Fred just leveled him one long look and he shifted his feet a bit. "Well, maybe a wee bit."

"Good idea, honey." And with that, still carrying Mom in his arms, he walked into the living room and dramatically lounged on the couch. Molly walked by Harry to begin to pack up the food, making an exaggerated gagging face to him as she passed by, and he stifled a laugh as he put the plates in the sink and turned it on, sliding on those rubber gloves Mom insisted on and began to scrub each dish individually.

Fred and George even helped, drying off the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher respectively, while Ron stacked food in the freezer, which was an old fashioned icebox, so there was no worry of the electronics accidentally blowing out. After about ten or so minutes, they were all cleaned up, and it was like the Christmas feasting they had just done had never even happened.

"About time," Mom said from where she was sitting on the couch, leaning close to Dad who was embracing her, looking down at her with love in his eyes. She sat up, and for a second Harry thought that Dad wouldn't let Mom go, keep her close to him, but he did, letting her go like it pained him to do so.

Dad got up before Mom was finished standing, and he offered his hand, pulling her up and spinning her around dramatically. Mom let out a very, well a very unlike Mom giggle, as he spun her and kissed her on the end of the spin.

"Ugh, Mom, Dad. Stopppp," groaned Molly as she covered her face. "You're gonna make me puke."

Dad pulled away from Mom, laughing as he saw the uncomfortable looks on Ron and the twins, and presumably his own face. "Alright, alright. Now follow me, kiddos." Dad, with Mom hanging onto his arm, still smiling broadly, went to the basement door and grasped the handle.

"Hey, I thought you said we couldn't go down there!" Harry said, looking as the door slowly opened into the darkness below. "I thought you said there was rot and the ceiling was unstable for us to safely go down there to grab stuff for you!"

Dad just flicked the light and motioned them down the stairs. "Well, it's a miracle from God, it is all clear now. Let's go, come on down the stairs boys," before Molly could protest, he quickly added on, "and ladies of course. All of you, come on down." He began to make his way down first, and when Harry eventually got down there, he was standing proudly in front of the basement. At least he was pretty sure it was the same basement. If he hadn't walked down the same flight of stairs, he wouldn't have been sure. It looked completely different from the last time he had seen the basement. It was no longer a bare carcass of a room, with concrete floor and ceiling, only supported by rotting wooden pillars and a few lightbulbs hanging from chains from the ceiling.

But now it all looked completely different. The first and most noticeable difference was when he stepped down off the last step, he did not step on cold and chipped concrete, so he had to be careful where he stepped in his thin slippers to not make a hole in them and incidentally his foot. Instead what he stepped on creaked under his weight as he stepped on it, and he looked down in slight confusion to see that it was now a wooden floor carpented in a herringbone pattern (with a carpenter as a Dad, he knew most floor patterns by name). But that was only the first change. The walls had gotten padding added to them, and there were actual light fixtures installed on the ceiling, lights that could slowly dim for a movie setting. Which brought Harry to the biggest and most noticeable change. There was a red carpet stretching out to the other end of the basement, and on either side of the carpet were three two seat rows of recliners. The fact there were now twelve recliners was not the best part however. The best part was they were decked in red velvet, with cup holders and very clearly from some old and very classy movie theater.

To top it all off, sitting against the one wall that wasn't covered in the strange padding was a white projector sheet that could be rolled and unrolled, and now that Harry saw the sheet, he could see the projector from where it was rolled in the alcove under the stairs. The only part of the old basement that even remained was the door that led to the older part where the food was stored, which was still to the left of the stairs, while the newly redone basement was to the right.

"You… did all this for us?" asked Molly in a hushed voice, her words breaking a little with emotion.

"We knew you wouldn't be able to be near technology without it being messed up. So we decided to convert the basement as a Christmas present so you could actually watch television. We figured that sitting five feet away from the projector screen, the fact it is old technology and the absorbing panels on the walls would allow you to watch without blowing it all out, even with the five of you here."

"Well honey, to be fair, I didn't come up with the absorbing panels idea on my own. That I ran by Professor Dumbledore when we arranged for the Weasley's to stay with us. It was the last piece of work I needed to do. Got everything else done."

"Is that why you disappeared earlier today and came back covered in sawdust? You were installing the last of these panels?" Molly said, seemingly once again in control of herself.

"Yup, you caught me." Dad gave a half-laughter and shrugged guilty. "I had a few more panels to nail into the walls. Wanted to make it perfect for a Christmas movie tonight. Can't risk it blowing out on us."

"Well what are we waiting for?" Molly asked, claiming one of the seats nearest the TV and jumping in it enthusiastically. A bit too enthusiastic, in Harry's opinion. After the sudden rush of emotions he had just witnessed from his sister that vanished just as quickly, he noticed the over exaggerated excitement of his sister like it was a facade she was putting on. But maybe he was just being paranoid as well. Maybe all this enthusiasm was brought out by being home.

"First, I have to make popcorn," Mom said, rolling out the cart that the projector was on from under the stairs. There was a second machine behind the projector, a high-tech popcorn maker. Harry hastily took a few large steps away and to a chair to not damage it, gesturing everyone else, who had stopped at the bottom of the stairs and were staring, to go find seats as well.

He heard Mom go and begin to pop some popcorn, while the projector whispered softly as light began flickering on the screen. The VHS began to whirl in the background, and the twins and Ron chattered excitedly.

"Wait, you're telling me that you guys have never seen a movie before, just moving Wizard pictures?" asked Molly slightly incredulously.

"Nope. When would we have?" replied Ron, raising an eyebrow. "This is a new experience for all of us. It better live up to the hype that we keep hearing about Muggle movies."

"Dad, if this is the first Muggle movie they have ever seen, we can't show them Rudolph as a Christmas movie. We have to show them something better!" Harry said as he got up and went over to Dad, making sure to stay five feet away because he was blowing sawdust off the movie rack, also installed in shelves under the stairs.

"What's wrong with Rudolph?" Dad said as he began to scour the shelves for the VHS tape.

"It doesn't really capture the essence of Christmas as much as the movie I have in mind." Harry protested, wishing he could explain why exactly Rudolph was not the peak Christmas movie.

"Okay let me guess," Dad said, straightening up, holding a VHS in his hand. "You want to watch this movie instead?" In his hand, covered by some sawdust, was Harry's favorite Christmas VHS tape, It's a Wonderful Life.

"How did you know?" Harry asked excitedly as Dad straightened up, bringing the movie to the projector. Harry made sure to back away from Dad as he emerged from the alcove, the last thing he wanted to do was destroy this movie.

"You're more predictable than you might think, son. Now go help your mother distribute the popcorn, and I will inject the movie into this thrice-darned projector." He said, and shambled over to the projector, leaning over to push it into the rewind slot, muttering about stupid technology the entire time. Harry went over to Mom, who had turned off the popcorn machine so he didn't have to worry about that, and began to take the large buckets of popcorn over to where everyone was sitting.

"Why did you go over to Dad?" Molly asked as she took the bucket gingerly, placing it on the empty seat beside her.

"Oh, you'll find out," Harry said all mysteriously, or at least he hoped so, before putting popcorn in his own row and moving on to provide for the twins, the only ones besides Mom and Dad to be sharing their row. Finally, Ron received his own bucket of popcorn.

"What is this stuff?" Ron asked as he gingerly picked up a yellow kernel and examined it.

"It's kind of like Butterbeer Poppers but… without the Butterbeer," Harry explained, feeling quite dumb the moment the words left his lips, not at all helped by Ron's exaggerated eye-roll.

"That description might be helpful, Harry, if I had ever had Butterbeer Poppers," Ron said with a laugh that turned into a groan as he popped a piece of popcorn in his mouth. "Oh, that is blooming delicious. Where have you been keeping this secret hidden, you Muggles?"

Harry laughed along with Ron at the pure pleasure on his face of experiencing popcorn for the first time, using their shared laughter as cover to swipe a piece from his bucket. Ron grabbed his wrist. "Steal a piece of this Merlin gifted food from me, Harry, and we will test the name of the Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry continued laughing as he dropped the popcorn piece back into the bucket. "Better be careful there, Ron. Coming dangerously close to blasphemy, Ron. And you know what we do with the people who blasphemy around here?"

"What do you do?" asked Ron with a grin and another piece of popcorn.

"Why don't you ask Michael Jr, the oldest?"

"I thought Molly was the oldest!" Ron said, shock written on his face, and a dash of uncertainty.

"Exactly." Harry winked and moved on, leaving the last tub at his parents row and sitting down in his own seat, leaving Ron with a tub of popcorn, the joy of eating it and the fear of being killed by their scary-when-he-wants-to-be Dad killing him with the Sword for blasphemy.

Mom sat down, along with Dad, as the projector flickered once, twice and then began to send a stream of light on the screen. Slowly the scene opened up to two start sparkling in the sky, as they pulsed and talked to each other. Harry settled back into his seat, feeling the old familiarity of the movie settle over him like a long lost friend.

They sat and watched the movie. Harry occasionally glanced over to the twins and Ron and saw they were heavily invested in it, staring at the screen while leaning forward slightly, eyes wide and fingers clenched to their armrests. Ron let out a little gasp as George stood over the bridge, looking down and contemplating jumping off. And like every time they watched the movie, Dad made the obligatory comment about how that was not how angels truly worked at all, but he did it in good humor. When the credits finally rolled, and the popcorn had long since disappeared into their respective gullets, Ron was the first to speak. "Wow. That was a modern Muggle movie?"

Molly laughed. "You call that modern, Ron? That movie is forty-four years old. If you wanna see modern, you should watch the Terminator. Now that will blow your mind."

Dad got up with a dramatic groan, stretching his arms and yawning. "Alright kids, time to go get ready for bed. Cant be up to late, otherwise Santa won't come." He went over and turned off the projector, ejecting the tape and putting it back in its box.

"Pfft. Santa isn't real," scoffed Ron as he grabbed his bucket and stacked it inside the other ones, which were piling up on the bottom stair.

"Ron, you go to a school where you perform magic, and just the other day you learned about the existence of angels, Fallen Angels and Swords of God. And you think that Santa is just too preposterous?" Molly asked with a raised eyebrow and an incredulous expression on her face.

"Well, yeah. It's a magical guy tha… yeah I see your point." Ron trailed off, grinning sheepishly.

"Imagine all the pranks we could pull off if we didn't exist!" Fred said as they put their bucket on the pile.

"Yeah, we could get around anywhere with our wands and the Ministry wouldn't stop us because we wouldn't even exist to them!" George exclaimed.

"While we are down here, can I grab the air mattress from the back room?" asked Molly as she helped roll the cart into the alcove.

"Molly, you two are twelve. You are too old to do Christmas Eve sleepovers in your brother's room," Mom said sternly, shaking her head no.

"Sweetheart, let the kids have fun. It doesn't hurt them." Dad protested.

"Michael, they are too old for it." Mom said, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation. "But fine, whatever."

"Makes the job easier for Santa as well, since her room is right over the chimney."

Molly was already gone, in the back room to grab the air mattress and the automatic pump, pulling it out and dragging, or at least attempting to, drag it up the stairs, her curly hair bouncing as she jerked and strained to pull it up the stairs, along with the pump.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I certainly enjoyed writing it. I debated for a long time with myself who, if anyone, should be the first to learn of the side of the fence Harry comes from, and his Dad's true profession. Eventually, I settled on the Weasleys because Ron's more anxious (yet still brave) nature lends itself quite interestingly on what he would do with the information, and the twins have just gotten a whole new realm of possibilities opened to them or mischief. If you would have picked anyone else though, I am interested in hearing your thoughts as to why.