Dearest Harry,

It breaks my heart that this might be the last and only chance I have to tell you that I love you. I hope that's not the case, but if it is Dear, please don't let the fact that it is conveyed by ink on parchment lessen the sentiment and truthfulness of the words. You are my entire world, my dear boy. I love you with every fibre of my being.

We chose your name very carefully, Harry. My father's name was Harold, and your father's grand-father's name was Henry, so we named you after both of them. You carry a piece of each of us, and of two long, proud family traditions, with you everywhere you go. If you are ever feeling alone, remember that, and remember our love.

Your father made me promise not to read his letter to you, that it is a private matter, between father and son, and I will respect that, but I do feel compelled to negate some of the sillier notions he may have. He forgets, sometimes, that jokes do not always translate properly, on paper.

Firstly, it does not matter which house at Hogwarts you are sorted into. It is good and noble to be brave, intelligent, loyal, and ambitious, but those traits alone do not define you. It is what you choose to do with them, my son, that will determine who you will become. I do mean that, with all sincerity. I had friends in all four houses, during my time at school. My best friend, in fact, was a Slytherin, despite me being a Gryffindor, and although we did not leave things on good terms, I do not regret my friendship with him, not for one moment. My only regret is that I did not do more, that I did not know how to do more, to buffer him against the forces of darkness that preyed upon him, when he was still just a boy.

People can change, if we let them, and they will change, if we do nothing to stop it. If you value your friendships, fight for them, even when things get hard. Especially when things get hard. Protect yourself when you need to, do not allow yourself to be dragged down a bad path after them, but always leave them a way back to the light.

Secondly, jokes and pranks are fun, but they can also do a lot of damage, if they are wielded as a weapon. No laugh is worth someone's dignity, and everybody has some pain that they are hiding from the world. You do not need to add to it, in order to have fun. Be silly, my dear boy, but be kind.

Lastly, do not be afraid to be yourself. Your grandfather on your father's side was a potion's master, and had dearly hoped that your father would be one, too. James had other ambitions, though, and sought to live a more daring life. Your grandfather did not love your father any less for not following in his footsteps, and your father will not love you any less, if your passions do not mirror either of ours. I cannot carry a tune to save my life, but if you love to sing, little one, then sing! Your father and I want you to be happy, and fulfilled.

Remember Harry, trust is earned. Be generous with your heart, but do not throw yourself into danger, or give of yourself until there is nothing left. True friends, the people who will make you happy, in the long run, will give back as much effort as they demand of you, and will not ask you to compromise yourself for their convenience.

I hope that you will live an unremarkable life, with two living parents to shield you from the dangers of the world, but if we are not there, if certain forces shove you into the public eye, remember to stay true to yourself, and to do what you know to be right. Find the friends who will honor that, and hold you accountable to your own standards, and keep them close, no matter what.

I love you more with every passing moment, and with every breathe you take.

Love,

Mom; Lily Evans Potter

P.S.

Not all family is blood, Harry. Sirius may not be perfect, but I know that he loves you, and will look after you, in the event that your father and I can't. My sister will not. Spare yourself some heartache, son, and don't seek her out. She will not accept you. She hates everything to do with magic, and I fear she will take it all out on you, if given the chance.

Harry woke up on Christmas morning and immediately grabbed his mother's letter from his nightstand to read it again.

It filled him with melancholy and warmth, just as it had the night before, when he'd read it for the first time.

He knew that the Malfoys had a tradition of waking early on Christmas to open presents together, and they expected him to join them, but Harry didn't want to leave his bed.

He had made an arse of himself in front of all of Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy's friends last night. Worse, instead of apologizing, he had gotten embarrassed and run away to hide in his room like a child.

He hadn't thanked Mr. Malfoy or his friends for standing up for him. He hadn't stayed long enough to ensure that his immature response hadn't hurt Professor Snape's cause.

He'd been a fool and a coward.

Worse, he'd ruined the party that Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy has worked so hard for.

He knew by now that they'd never abandon him entirely over something like this, but he felt guilty about intruding on their family Christmas when he'd been such a burden.

He needed to find a way to make it up to them before he'd feel comfortable in their presence again.

A loud, insistent knocking on his door interrupted his morose thoughts.

"Harry?" came Draco's enthusiastic disembodied voice. "Are you awake yet? Mum says I have to let you sleep if you're not, but it's time for presents!"

Harry rolled his eyes and carefully tucked his mother's letter away next to his father's.

"I love you both," he whispered to them before clamoring out of bed and throwing on the dressing robe Mrs. Malfoy had already purchased for him.

He had it on good authority that the Malfoys always opened their Christmas presents before they were fully dressed. Draco had been very clear on that point.

As much as he didn't want to ruin the Malfoy's Christmas with his presence, he didn't want to ruin it by forcing them wait for him even more.

He opened the door and was immediately tackled by a blonde tornado. Draco spun him around and then dragged him into the hall. "Come on! You have to see the pile of presents. It's massive this year! And Dobby made us extra special hot chocolate, and strawberry waffles, and there are so many presents! It'll take us all day to open them all."

Harry laughed despite himself. Draco's enthusiasm was always contagious, and Christmas morning was apparently no exception.

Harry allowed himself to be dragged through the manor to the sitting room where they had exchanged gifts with Professor Snape the day before.

Draco was right.

The pile of presents engulfing the tree was truly enormous.

If it wasn't for magic, Harry thought it would have toppled in on itself already.

"Who are all of these from?" Harry asked in wonder.

"A lot of them are from mother and father," Draco said, "but all of our friends at school sent some, too. My parents' friends always send stuff, but most of the time it's boring, grown up stuff."

"Wow."

"Great, isn't it?"

"Dudley would die of jealousy if he could see this."

"We should send him a photo, then!"

Harry fake glared at Draco for fake-plotting his cousin's untimely demise.

"Mum! Dad! We're ready for presents!" Draco called out, hands cupping his mouth.

"Indoor voices, Draco," Mrs. Malfoy admonished as she elegantly swept into the room. Her silver dressing gown easily looked more distinguished than Aunt Petunia's best formal dress and that made Harry smile.

Draco grinned sheepishly at his mother and jumped up onto the sofa. "I'll be good."

"You'd better be," Mr. Malfoy as he swept into the room. "I made sure to keep all the receipts for your presents specifically."

Draco pouted as his parents laughed, and Harry crawled up onto the couch next to Draco.

He could not stop eying the gigantic mound of presents, half convinced that they were just an illusion and would disappear if he took his eyes off them, and half convinced that Draco was wrong and none of them were really for him.

Professor Snape's presents had already been more than he had ever received before. Harry wasn't sure how he could handle getting so much stuff all at once, and was worried that he'd make a scene by getting all stupid and crying or something if he got anything particularly nice.

It took all morning to sort through the presents and open them all. They were all lost in an ocean of crumpled wrapping paper by the end of it, but apparently the house elves weren't allowed to vanish the mess until they were finished. The chaos was part of the fun.

Harry was utterly overwhelmed with his new riches.

He had toys and books, fancy clothes and pure-blood-appropriate jewellery. He had quidditch supplies and charmed quills, rare potions ingredients and even a big new cage for Mercurius to live in over the summer while he wasn't out hunting or biting off Harry's fingers.

Mr. Malfoy had gotten him a special set of leather journals for his academic notes, with reference charms and ever-expanding pages build right into the paper. He could take class notes and transfer them directly into his journals, if he wished, or edit them first. He could add pictures and even full excerpts and passages out of any book he wanted, even the notoriously tamper-proof ones. Only he could open them, and once opened, only he could read them, unless he gave someone else specific permission. These journals would last him a lifetime, and become a repository of his accumulated knowledge and inventions.

Harry still couldn't believe that Mr. Malfoy thought him worthy of them.

That was before he realized that each one had been embossed with the Potter family crest.

These were a legacy he could pass down to his own children someday.

Harry had to pretend to sneeze to wipe away his tears before anyone saw them.

Draco had gotten him a broom, and not just any broom, but a Nimbus 2000. Harry couldn't wait to try it out.

Between the Malfoys, all of his Slytherin year-mates, Neville, the Slytherin quidditch team, Gemma Farley, strangers who were friends with the Malfoys or who worked at the Ministry, and the gifts Professor Snape had already dropped off, Harry had easily quadrupled the total number of items within his possession, and all of these things were far nicer than anything he had ever received from the Dursleys.

It felt like Harry was living someone else's life.

"Thank-you," he said hoarsely for the thousandth time as he took in the physical proof that no one had forgotten about him over the break.

He felt terrible at his own pitiful attempts to buy presents that he friends would like. Nothing he'd bought was even half as nice as his own haul.

"The house-elves will move your things to your room," Mrs. Malfoy said gently, "while we have a proper breakfast in the dining room. Once you've eaten and cleaned up, you and Draco can go flying."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said, happy to have the overwhelming pile of presents out of sight and out of mind while he grappled with the emotions attached to receiving them.

He thought of the wand holster he wore that his mother had made as a child. He'd need to brush up on his charm work and brainstorm some ways to use magic and potions to make next years presents for the Malfoys and his friends extra personalized and special.

He had a lot of work to do, but if he applied himself, he should be ready to up his gift-giving game by next year. He was determined to make everyone he cared about feel what he'd felt this morning.

They settled in for breakfast, and much to Harry's discomfort began discussing the party the night before.

From the sounds of things, it had not been going well even before Harry had burst in and made a scene.

Apparently Harry's presence in their lives was putting Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy in a difficult spot, politically.

Harry felt terrible about it, but didn't know what to do to fix it, so he just sat quietly and listened. He'd have to use one of his journals for wizarding politics, until he'd researched enough to understand what his presence meant to the people around him. It would be prudent to figure out how to use his notoriety to his advantage, rather than creating a wake of unintentional collateral damage behind him wherever he went.

Add that to the list.

"And then my little good luck charm came out and put everyone in their place," Mr. Malfoy said with a chuckle.

It took Harry a moment to realize he was talking about him.

"I thought I mucked everything up," Harry admitted.

"Just the opposite," Mr. Malfoy said with a chuckle. "You managed to cut through the tiresome games that silly adults play with perfect precision. You did me a great favor by saying what you did, young man. You made just the right people feel uncomfortable and guilty about the way they were behaving. It was expertly done."

"I didn't mean to, though," Harry said, blushing at the undeserved praise.

"You were honest and earnestly protective of your friends, and everyone could sense that," Mrs. Malfoy said. "Everyone left last night knowing without a doubt that you believe everything you said about us and about Professor Snape. You helped, Harry, I promise you."

Harry wasn't sure he believed it, but he let it slide. He hoped that it was true, that he hadn't ruined everything, but he wasn't going to rely on blind luck to guide him through these things, either. He would take the accidental win, but he would analyze it, and figure out what he could do on purpose next time to make things even better.

It was the least he could do for his surrogate family and for his saviour.

He knew Draco was eager to go flying after breakfast, and he was too, really, but he was even more excited to start studying and get to work.

Keep your real friends close.

Harry would.

Nothing would get in his way.