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P.s. It's been an awful week, so I hope you enjoy this chapter that was next to impossible for me to write. I have no Christmas spirit.
Chapter 23 - Louder Than Words
Harry rose early, as he often did, whether he wanted to or not. Despite it being too early for breakfast, he padded down the stairs to see if anyone else was up.
As it turned out, there was. Harry lingered on the edges of the kitchen, not quite wanting to disturb the pre-dawn light colouring the room or the soft Christmas songs coming from a radio that occupied its own table.
Aunt Petunia rarely listened to music.
Malcolm McGonagall was a giant of a man, but he was a gentle giant and he moved through the kitchen with a quiet grace that put Harry at ease.
"Good morning, Harry," Malcolm rumbled.
"Good morning," he returned. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," Malcolm said with a smile, his hands continuing to work the dough. "It's a bit early for breakfast, but if you give me a few minutes I can get something started for you."
"Would you like any help?" Harry asked.
Malcolm's jade eyes looked up at him with tangible fondness.
The dishes were doing themselves under the direction of a spell, but Malcolm was working on dough for cookies.
"Do you enjoy baking?" Malcolm asked.
"I think I could," Harry said truthfully.
Few things were as bitter as baking and being fed nothing more in the day than a single slice of stale bread.
Malcolm waved him forward, pulling the recipe he was working from to lay it on the counter in front of Harry. "I hear you're good at potions, baking isn't much different."
Harry nodded, falling easily into the rhythm of being back in the kitchen.
Despite his familiarity with baking, the atmosphere couldn't have been further from Aunt Petunia's space.
For one, Malcolm's cottage was all about comfort. The furniture was all worn yet loved. There was an abundance of throw blankets. The walls were a combination of art of oceans and whales while the mantel was stacked with family photographs.
The kitchen wasn't that large if you didn't include the dining table, but Malcolm did, setting out all the ingredients there next to empty cookie trays.
Harry didn't think he would ever like a kitchen as much as he found himself liking this one. There were two windows, one over the main counter and the other over the sink, opening up to the view of the mountains.
There were also charmed little plaques with sayings that Aunt Petunia would have burned down her house before allowing in her kitchen.
Chocolate doesn't ask silly questions, chocolate understands.
You only live once, lick the bowl.
I'll have my cake, and eat it too.
Living the sweet life.
Keep calm and bake.
The best wizards wear aprons.
Every father needs some flour power.
"Do you prefer fresh cookies or cookie dough?" Malcolm asked as Harry put in the cinnamon.
He winced, "I've never had cookie dough."
Malcolm didn't chastise him for that, he simply reached for a new spoon and scooped up a large portion from the bowl he had been mixing the ingredients in.
Harry accepted, taking a bite of the smooth chocolate-chipped dough.
It was good, really good.
"You can make your decision after you have one fresh out of the oven," Malcolm said with utmost seriousness.
Harry smiled and worked on, feeling lighter on his feet for the music playing.
The first batch of cookies brought with it a scent that made Harry's stomach twist.
Not in a good way.
He was too used to that smell in combination with the feeling of hunger and Dudley shoving him out of the way.
Instead, Harry found himself shepherded into a chair and given a full glass of milk.
Malcolm tapped his wand on the cooling tray, performing some type of temperature charm on it and placing three cookies on a plate.
Harry raised a brow, "A proper breakfast?"
"Balanced," Malcolm said, taking a seat beside him.
"Aren't you going to have one?"
Malcolm picked one up, taking a bite.
His heart racing, Harry berated himself for the irrational fear that this would be something like the Dursleys' treatment. A cruel trick.
But food wasn't a trick at the Weasleys', nor was it a trick at Hogwarts. So, there was no reason to think the McGonagalls would be different.
Except for the fact that they were the only ones who promised to keep him.
He took a bite of the cookie.
Warm chocolate melted on his tongue, bursting with flavour.
He blushed at the sound he made.
Malcolm grinned but let Harry finish his bite and chase the super sweet flavour down with rich milk.
"Fresh cookies or cookie dough?" Malcolm asked.
"Fresh cookies," Harry said, taking another bite.
"Excellent choice," Malcolm said, finishing his own cookie before standing up.
Harry made to follow but Malcolm waved him to sit, placing another cookie on his plate, "Eat your breakfast."
Harry smiled but didn't argue.
The cookies were too good to argue against.
He had finished the third by the time Malcolm had the second tray loaded up with dough balls.
Harry spoke before he lost his nerve; the words came out in a bit of a jumble. "I wanted to ask you for your help before the Lovegoods arrive tonight."
"Oh?" said the older wizard, turning his full attention back to him.
Harry pulled the box from his pocket; he had yet to wrap it.
Malcolm took the proffered box.
"You charm silver, right? I just want to know if I made the charm to last or if you think it will wear out."
Malcolm gently opened the box, his fingers nimble as he took out the pendant. "This is one of mine," he noted, examining it.
Harry nodded, noting the moment the surface of the pendant changed to match Malcolm's mood when his eyes went wide before his expression softened.
"This is beautiful, Harry."
"Will it last?"
Malcolm pulled out his wand again and tapped the chain. "Yes," he said, placing it back in the box. "This is one of my better pieces, silver is particularly absorbent for these types of charms and your spellwork was excellent. Charms is a branch of magic that isn't just about intention, it's an art that takes on a life of its own if cast with enough spirit."
Accepting the box back, Harry let out a breath, "Thank you."
Malcolm smiled at him, "You are most welcome."
oOo
James didn't want to get up.
This was his second Christmas with his son.
His son who was sixteen years old.
There was a knock on the door.
Sirius let himself in, "Merry Christmas, Jamie. Poor day to choose to sleep in. No one has opened presents yet. Harry hasn't even asked, which is a travesty."
James sighed, "I can't sleep in the dark."
Sirius flopped down on the bed beside him. "Your son helped make breakfast, and lunch."
James shut his eyes, "Please tell me that's because he has a passion for cooking, not further proof that my in-laws are demonic."
Sirius didn't answer.
James rolled over, "Sirius?"
Sirius met his gaze with sad grey-blue eyes, "We can't go back. But you're here and Harry… is better than this world deserves."
James groaned, "He's going to hate my gift."
"He's not," Sirius argued. "I promise he won't."
James felt like crying, "Yet I wish he would."
"James," Sirius sighed. "You've been a widower for less than a year. It's okay for you to break down, it is okay for you not to be happy, but it's not okay to not be there for your son who's been an orphan for fifteen years who was left with your horrible sister-in-law and her atrocious husband."
James groaned, "Why haven't we killed Dumbledore yet?"
"Because it might have been Dumbledore who activated the Curse of Heirs, but it was because Lily used evil blood magic to defeat the Dark Lord."
Sorrow gripped him, "And if Lily and I had trusted Albus… you wouldn't have ended up in prison and Harry wouldn't have ended up with those people."
"Well," Sirius said. "We can't change any of that, but we can go downstairs and be there for Harry. Because we love him more than we love our regrets and grief."
Sirius shifted into a dog and laid his head down on James's chest, whining lowly.
James patted his head.
As much as he wanted to spend time with his son, see him happy, today, he knew, was going to be a special type of hell.
Sirius began wagging his tail, as he was a puppy, not a grim. A happy wolfhound. Not an omen of death.
James pulled himself out of bed and did his best to shelve his sorrow and anxiety, leaving it to Sirius to bring the holiday cheer.
Padfoot did not disappoint.
He waited for James to brush his teeth and pull himself together before rushing madly and loudly down the steps.
Remus looked as morose as James felt, though Malcolm and Minerva who were drinking tea seemed as one on this Christmas day.
Harry rose from his seat to greet them, making himself a perfect tree target for Padfoot to tackle.
Harry went down on the boards with a thud and began laughing as Sirius placed doggy kisses on his cheeks.
Harry's laughter mixed with the Christmas music and warm smell of food and sweets lifted James's spirits beyond what he had anticipated.
Lily was gone.
But he still had his family, and his son was still capable of happiness, and that was both a miracle and the source of James's own joy in life.
oOo
Harry was glad but nervous when Sirius brought his dad back downstairs.
He knew the food was good.
He knew it, yet he had helped and so…
James took a bite of the spinach-and-mushroom-stuffed pasta shells.
His eyes closed and a look of bliss crossed his face, "This is amazing, Harry, Malcolm."
"Mostly Harry's doing," Malcolm said.
"That's not true," Harry protested.
"You give yourself too little credit," Malcolm said.
"It's good," James assured.
"Well, hurry up and eat, Harry has presents to open," Sirius said.
Harry wasn't at all excited, mostly because he wasn't sure if the gifts he had made would be well received.
The Christmas tree was lovely when they moved to the sofas, and, in Harry and Sirius's case, the floor.
He passed his presents to Malcolm and Minerva before anyone said anything.
Both McGonagalls smiled and opened the large-ish boxes.
"Oh, Harry, this is lovely," Minerva said as she pulled out an emerald velvet hat with an ornament of rubies and white owl feathers.
"Fred and George helped me with the ornament. If you press it, it plays music from a muggle ballet, Swanlake," Harry explained.
She smiled, "Very festive, thank you."
He grinned, he had gotten one right.
"Oh," Malcolm said. "It's a—"
"A growing planter," Harry interrupted. "It should grow just about any mundane herb prolifically."
Malcolm smiled and in turn pulled out another gift.
Harry accepted it and unwrapped the blue and white wrapping paper. Inside was a wooden case and inside the case was a bunch of tools, metal samples, chain clasps.
"It's a beginners charms-smith kit," Malcolm said.
"Thank you!" Harry said.
"Mine are less exciting, as I am still one of your professors," Minerva said as she handed him another box, containing a series of books for both charms-smithing and conjuring.
"Thank you, Professor Minerva."
She laughed.
Harry set all his unwrapped gifts beside him neatly and reached for the ones he had gotten for Remus, Sirius and his dad.
"I kind of cheated," he said as he passed them out. "I made you the same thing but they are themed, so…"
Sirius tore off the paper as if he was the youngest person in the room, but he didn't pull it out of the box.
He looked up at Harry, "You made this?"
His dad and Remus opened their gifts like normal people.
James gently pulled out his snow globe, inside of which were miniature buck, a werewolf (who was obviously on wolfsbane potion due to it looking like a direwolf and not a human hybrid), a black wolfhound and on, the buck's antlers, there was perched a white-tailed kite instead of a rat.
"I can't shift yet," Harry said. "But figured out what my animagus form will be. It's not a large bird or anything, but..."
Harry found himself in the middle of a joint hug between Sirius and his dad on the rug.
"We love it," Sirius said.
James pulled back and wiped tears from his eyes.
Sirius reached forward and pulled another box toward them. "This one is for you."
Harry raised his brows, sort of afraid of what it was. It was a case with a window in it. Opening it up, he found a magically enlarged animal tank, complete with a water dish and with a heating stone, which a little snake was curled up on.
"What type of snake is this?"
"An anaconda," Sirius said proudly. "The biggest snake in the world! It's only slightly venomous."
Harry stared at Sirius, trying to riddle that one out. Harry had always liked snakes as a child and taken it upon himself to learn about them from every book available in the library.
He was sure of a couple of things. The little snake with its reddish staddles and upturned nose was not an anaconda. He also knew that a constrictor, a snake that strangles its prey to death, did not have or need venom.
"I am not an anaconda, you utter imbecile," the snake hissed, head flattening into a hood like a cobra's. "I am a Western Hognose snake with an Anaconda morph. It's the name of my pattern, not my ability to strangle the life from your worthless throat."
Harry swallowed a laugh and hissed in turn, "Forgive him, my godfather means well."
"Slightly venomous?" Dad asked, consternated.
Sirius waved his hand, "I bought him from a muggle. If you're allergic, you might get a small rash, but it's for killing mice, not humans."
The Hognose's hood deflated, "You can speak?"
"Yes," Harry answered.
"My name is Jörmundur," the Hognose insisted before anyone could assert anything else.
"Aren't anacondas the biggest snakes in the world?" Remus asked.
"Yep!" Sirius said cheerfully.
"How long do they get?" Remus asked.
"The longest," Sirius said. "For muggles, that is."
James looked horrified.
"Anacondas are the heaviest," Harry corrected in English. "Not the longest. They can grow to be 550 pounds, or 39 stone."
The book he had read that in had been authored by an American.
"You cannot have a 39 stone snake at school," Minerva said.
"Harry handled a basilisk, I'm sure he won't be too much," Sirius argued.
"She," Jörmundur corrected.
Harry smiled and told his worried adults, "She isn't an anaconda. She's an anaconda morph. She is actually a Western Hognose snake, a sand snake species native to North America. They don't get that large that fast, since they aren't constrictors. They are venomous, but not harmful to humans, aside from the fact that they are rear-fanged, which means they have to chew to inject their venom, which is more painful than most snakes her size."
Everyone stared at him.
Harry crossed his arms, "Listen, the library and the outdoors are where I spent most of my free time. The garter snakes were the only beings of interest who would talk to me."
Sirius looked a bit disappointed he hadn't bought the biggest snake.
Everyone else was relieved as Harry offered his hand to Jörmundur. She didn't seem to need any more prompting to slip into Harry's hand and begin to hug his fingers. Harry smiled, gently stroking her soft scales.
"Thank you, Sirius," Harry said, looking up at his godfather who hated Slytherins but didn't shy away from the things Harry was capable of or enjoyed.
Sirius wrapped an arm around him.
Remus passed over another box. "This one is from me and I promise it's not venomous, not even slightly."
"No fun," Sirius teased. "Not even slightly."
Remus glared at him.
Harry unwrapped it and found a camera with film, much smaller than Collins. "Thank you! Is it loaded?"
"You're welcome, yes—" Harry brought it up and took a picture of his dad, Malcolm, Minerva and Remus, then turned to take a picture of Sirius framed by the tree.
Sirius snatched the camera from his hand, pulled Harry and James back into another hug and twisted the camera around to take a picture of them all.
He took several shots, which was good because who knew was actually in view.
Blinking back dots from his vision, James pulled out the biggest box from under the tree.
Harry pulled off the wrapping and found a trunk, a very nice school trunk. Unlatching it, he found neat piles of clothes.
Lots of wizard robes along with muggle shirts and trousers.
As well as brand new under-things made of soft cotton and plenty of socks.
There were even new Quidditch under-robes and boots.
All new, no hand-me-downs, all of fine make and pleasant to the touch.
All for him.
"I can get you something else," Dad said. "I just, I noticed you had outgrown your things, and I—"
Harry launched at him, holding him in a hug. "Thank you, Dad!"
He hugged him back so tightly and said against his shoulder, "I'm sorry."
And with that alone, Harry knew that his father knew or guessed how bad things had been without him. Harry hugged him even tighter.
He didn't have the words to tell him how much it mattered that he and Sirius were here now.
How much it mattered that they not only cared about him, but noticed him.
"I love you, Dad."
"I love you too, son."
And perhaps, that was all the words they needed, their actions spoke the rest.
oOo
AN: Thoughts, loaches, or feedback, pretty please?