22nd December 1994 - King Harry's Office, Skyfall, Volstar
It had been a little odd, waking up to the scent of evergreen in the air.
He had known that he should expect it and had even approved the festivities, but there was something about scenting winter evergreens in a place that barely had a winter to speak of that registered as a bit odd.
Harry had woken early again, as had become a well cemented habit, but even still he could hear the hustle and bustle of activity outside.
If he were being entirely truthful he could admit to being rather excited about the prospect of experiencing Yule. The proper traditional form that the wixen of Europe observed.
He had the Yule Ball, that would be hosted at Hogwarts thanks to the Tri-Wizard Tournament, which was a fairly old tradition. But he wanted to experience the twelve days of celebration, the thanks-giving rituals and the burning of the Yule log. He wanted to try spiced cider and wassail, to play games with his new neighbours and welcome the sun with a smile and songs sung merrily.
The young king swung back his blankets and pulled himself out of bed and into his small ensuite to take care of his morning ablutions.
He returned to find Hildegara practically dancing about his suite, attired in a new red and silver dress that was her yule uniform and had a laurel resting on her head.
"You're in a cheerful mood." He observed while moving to take a seat at his table, where breakfast had already been laid out for him.
"Joyous Yuletide to you Master Harry!" She chirped, smiling brightly as she turned to face him, morning tasks already taken care of.
"Happy Yule, Hildegara." He replied with an equally bright smile before getting stuck into his breakfast.
He listened to her excitedly gush over the bits and pieces the elves were doing to the festivities. It was her first festival since her handfasting to her mate, Lysander. The delicately woven necklace she wore as proof of that pledge bouncing a little as she did and it only made Harry smile wider.
Breakfast done with and dishes cleared Harry slipped on his green and gold attire for the day before heading out to check his desk for anything that may have come in to be dealt with overnight, then finding it blissfully empty of new correspondence, made his way out of the Ministry building and out to the city centre.
There were wreaths and garlands hanging from buildings. Harry could spot holly, mistletoe and ivy interspersed with myrica, cedar and pine branches. There were small bundles of blessed thistle, sage and helleborus tucked here and there and ribbons in shining colours draped from here and there.
There was importance, Harry had known, in both the colours and the plants.
Red for the waning Holly King, green for the waxing Oak King.
White for purity and hope.
And silver and gold for the Moon and Sun.
The turn of seasons and wish for brighter futures.
A ritual of symbolism that had been carried through millennia through families and communities.
And something he would be able to share now, with Sirius and Remus.
Bill had headed out the previous day to rejoin his parents at the Burrow for their own yuletide celebrations and rituals, though he would be back on Christmas day so they could make their last preparations for the Yule Ball and pop over to Hogwarts together.
Ambling out to one of the large open spaces that stretched between the first and second ring where they had laid out neatly patterned cobble to make a shared festival space, Harry spotted the wealth of tables and benches that had been set out with candles and garlands. There were gold plates and silver utensils lining the tables and crystal goblets that sparkled in the morning sun that would glimmer even brighter when the candles were lit.
Golden candles that would burn slowly once lit during the ritual and would continue to burn the full twelve days of yule.
Here were the most of their festivities would be centralised the air was thick with the smell of evergreen, sweet spices and the wassail that had soaked into the yule log - a monstrously large oak trunk that the goblins had supplied - and the scent of ginger and berries.
On either side there were massive barrels filled with mead, ale, whiskey and of course the wassail. Interspersed between those were spits that were already alight and slowly cooking whole pig, lamb and large hunks of beef, all of which had been liberally anointed in oils and herbs.
There were stone ovens that had been built dotting the area with festivals like this in mind that would bake fresh loaves and cakes and cook-fires for roasting nuts and stewing berries and vegetables.
Here as well there were ribbons and green boughs decorating the area.
There were elves dancing about each other as they saw to the food their community would feast upon over the next twelve days and goblins were marching back and forth checking over the casks and barrels.
Harry could see Madam Hubbard draping more greenery about further ahead, while her fellow greensmen carefully set aside crates of fruits and vegetables for use.
As the oldest female of their community - something that had shocked Harry to learn, since he didn't think she looked any older than Professor McGonagall - Madam Hubbard would be taking part in the rituals.
She would stand for the Great Mother, the 'feminine' forces of nature. Plasma, water, darkness and earth and everything those elements represented. The enduring forces that offered succour to the weary and nourished life.
Harry as the most powerful male in their community would stand for the Star Child, sun god and protective light. He would represent the 'masculine' forces of nature. Metal, air, light and fire and the things those elements stood for. The guiding light, the warm welcome and cleansing purity, paving the way for the Great Mother to sow her wonder into the world.
He was, he found, rather nervous at the prospect, though realistically speaking his own parts in the ritual were relatively simple.
It was his power that would light the candles and the bonfires. That would set the wassail soak yule log ablaze and keep it burning for the full twelve days of the festival.
Harry watched from his spot as a couple of the goblins went up and down the tables sprinkling rubies, garnets, emeralds, diamonds and bloodstones about the garlands. A sparkling representation of their own ties to the earth and the shifting seasons.
It struck Harry then, more than it had done over the past few months just how free and together their slowly growing community was. Just watching everyone move about making preparations to eat, drink and celebrate together.
Which was how Sirius and Remus found him when they wondered out, teary eyed and brightly smiling.
He had run away from the Dursleys.
From bitterness and intolerance, from hate and resentment.
He had run away looking for safety and quiet.
They had built a home.
And it was beautiful.
Harry moved from hug to hug, echoed back merrily shouted well wishes.
He danced with elves and sang with goblins.
And he was Home.
Harry Potter was finally Home.