Harry and Bathilda approached the runemasters who weren't presenting. Bathilda was slightly ahead of Harry, but when it came time to speak, she paused.

The runemasters looked up. They weren't accustomed to being visited by a woman and a child together.

"Can we help you?" A woman runemaster asked the pair.

"Yes!" Harry replied. "I have a conundrum." Harry paused, proud of himself for the vocabulary word.

The runemaster laughed kindly. "Well, we'd be happy to help. Gellert! Get over here. I know how much you love the word 'conundrum' and this kid just slipped it into casual conversation."

Harry tried not to smile at how well that worked out. "Okay, I need you to believe me. My accidental magic made my family disappear. Just before then, my father sent a patronus to my neighbor, Bathilda Bagshot," Harry gestured toward Bathilda. He wasn't convinced about the timeline, but that seemed to be true with the facts that he had. "I asked Santa, but it wasn't the real Santa. So, I need a magic professional to undo what I've done."

Gellert's head shot over to Bathilda once Harry introduced her. "Bagshot? That was my father's aunt's name."

"Yes," Bathilda whispered. She looked so longingly at her grand-nephew but she made no move to get closer.

"Any relation?" Gellert raised his eyebrow. He didn't have much hope, his father was a zealot, and he didn't want much to do with him or his family.

"Not since he cut me out of his life when he leaned into that ideology." Bathilda's voice was hesitant except when she spat the word 'ideology' into the air.

"Wait, you don't agree with his pureblood shite?" Gellert asked.

"Of course not. Our family tree isn't even truly full of purebloods. We've intermarried with half-bloods and muggle-born for centuries. I have no idea where my brother went wrong with his family." Bathilda said forlornly.

"Oh, well in that case …"

"I hate to cut in," Harry interjected. "But about my family? I'd like to have them back."

Gellert looked up at Bathilda with an expression that said they weren't done talking. "Well, we should return to the scene of the crime, then." He shared an indulgent smile with Bathilda.

"Aren't you working right now? Can you just leave?" Bathilda asked. Harry tried not to roll his eyes. They didn't need to be doing anything that would discourage the helpful runemaster.

"Nope! This event is made for volunteers. Most of us don't have family to spend the holidays with, so we get together here to spread some joy for others."

"Well, would you like to spend Christmas with me?" Bathilda tentatively asked. "I know it's last minute and all, so don't feel like you have to."

"I'd love to!" Gellert grinned.

"Yes! It's lovely, that you're reunited and building a family. Can we get my family back now?" Harry said.

Gellert burst out laughing, but he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Lead the way, kiddo."

"I'm not a kiddo," Harry muttered. He turned to knock Gellert's hand off his shoulder. But he began leading them to his house.

As they walked, Harry got more and more nervous. What if Gellert couldn't undo Harry's accidental magic? With each step closer, Harry hunched over more and more and he refused to look up from his shoes.

"Hey, kid, your house wouldn't happen to have a red door, would it?" Gellert asked.

"Yeah, why?" Harry looked from the ground up to Gellert on his left.

"Well, it's swarming with Aurors so this will definitely be interesting." Gellert rubbed his hands together.

"HARRY!" James yelled. He sprinted from the front porch to his son.

Harry could barely breathe between hearing the yell and having his dad's arms wrapped around him.

"Dad?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Thank goodness, you were with Bathilda." James tightened his grip and rubbed his head into Harry as if he was scent-marking him. But his dad was a deer animagus, not anything of the canine variety.

"Um, Dad. Are you okay? Where's the rest of the family? I know I wished for you all to go away. But I didn't mean it. I love you. I don't care that Rose and Raven ate all the cookies. I don't care that Arthur always gives me noogies. I don't care that Mum has her plants everywhere. I don't care that Daniel has to have the last word. I don't care that you yell too much. I love you all and I want you with me. You're my family." Harry sounded overwrought with emotion. He started sobbing into his father's shoulder.

"Harry, the family is safe. They'll be here in a few hours. They're catching a portkey soon." James soothed his distraught son. Rubbing his back, James fell onto his butt right there in their front yard and pulled his son into his lap. He couldn't care less about the snow under him or how Harry's tears soaked his shoulder. His son was in his lap. "I know the last thing we said to each other was in anger, but I love you, son. I saw everything you did to protect our house from those two burglars. I'm proud of you."

Harry was shocked. He's not sure that he'd ever made his dad proud before. Harry threw his arms around his father's shoulders and held on tightly.

James held him there for what felt like hours while Harry calmed down and stopped crying. Harry heard some talking in the background and some vibrations from his dad's chest. But he didn't focus on any of it. All that mattered was his dad was here.

At some point, Harry passed out in his father's arms.

James noticed immediately when his son had tired himself out and fell asleep. There would be time later to discuss all the dangerous traps that Harry had set. But for now, he wanted to get his son inside their warm and comfy house. Confirming the Aurors were done, James waved for them to leave.

Standing up, James refused to let go of Harry or use magic to move him. He had two arms, what good were they if they couldn't carry his family?

Bringing Harry inside, James warred with himself. With their last fight in his mind, James set Harry up on the couch in the living room. Staying in the room with Harry, James began cleaning up with complex flicks of his wrist. Once he had fixed everything he could see in the living room, James collapsed on the sofa next to Harry. Adjusting Harry's blanket to better cover his son, James decided to rest his eyes for just a moment.

A/N: Tomorrow, I'll give the whole story a pass through with Grammarly/my grammar editing ability. (I swear it's better than this.) But for now, enjoy the second to last chapter! I'll get the epilogue up tomorrow (I hope). In the meantime, please wave away any inconsistencies/plot holes with the magic of fanfic. Also, friendly reminder that Harry is meant to be a ten-year-old. A precocious ten-year-old, sure, but still a ten-year-old with all the dramatics and ridiculous logic that that comes with.