Occlumency training sucks. Well, everything about November sucks, as far as Harry is concerned, except perhaps for the Quidditch match on the first weekend. It's an incredible thrill to launch off the ground in front of the whole school, to go head-to-head with Gryffindor's Seeker, dodging Bludgers and keeping clear of the Chasers as he watches for the Snitch. The Gryffindor Chasers are good, and are seventy points up on Slytherin when Harry spots a flicker of gold in his peripheral vision. He takes a moment, circles, and realizes that the Gryffindor Seeker hasn't seen it; he's closer and he knows he's faster, so he goes for it. It's a chase, a race against time and his own ability to keep the Snitch in his sights and the Gryffindor Seeker in his dust, but in the end he comes out victorious, swooping skyward with a whoop and the Snitch clutched in his fist. It's a high point—really the only high point for the month, unfortunately.
But Occlumency training is the number one reason that everything else is terrible. Dumbledore had at least agreed that Neville could practice as well, so twice a week Harry and Neville meet with Sirius after dinner in his classroom, and Sirius tries to teach them how to put up strong walls in their minds by invading them over and over again until they get better at kicking him out. It just takes practice, is what he promises; it takes getting used to using the tools available in the mindscape to evict an invader. But it's hard, and it gives Harry terrible headaches.
At the beginning of the month, during their first lesson, Sirius gives them some suggestions for structures to use to organize their minds that would make it easier for them to protect themselves: a library, a castle, a labyrinth. Harry and Neville talk about it together, trying to decide what to use. Eventually, Neville settles on a greenhouse; by the end of November Harry is still trying to decide, focusing for now on his ability to react in the moment, because that seems easier than building something inside his own mind. They also finally read Hermione in on the whole thing, both the Occlumency and their quest to learn wandless magic. Without Ron, who's still unconscious in the Hospital Wing, she's alone if Neville and Harry are going off on their own all the time, and they're not going to do that to her. Unfortunately, her research prowess isn't much help with the wandless magic or the Occlumency—both are just matters of will… and practice. Not that that stops her from reading, but the research seems to quell her anxiety about Ron.
She is also very good about reminding them that they have actual homework to do, too. Between an Occlumency lesson a week, Harry's meetings with Neville to practice their wandless spells, and the fact that Sirius had insisted Harry run with him every morning that he doesn't have an early Quidditch practice as well as their usual meetings on Saturdays—which now include less chatting and more spell practice—Harry has very little time. If not for Hermione's nagging and Blaise and Theo's insistence that Harry still spend at least some time with them, Harry is sure he'd be falling behind terribly in his classes. Having Gemma and the other sixth years around helps a lot, too, when they're in a mood to actually be helpful, instead of saying things like "What do you think it means?" when Harry asks them the meaning of the word abnegation. Stupid History of Magic.
Somehow, he finds time for it all, and by the end of November he can fairly reliably kick Sirius out of his head inside of five minutes without resorting to a Stinging Hex, keep up a decent pace on a full half-hour run, and cast a strong Expelliarmus. The latter he knows because in a spar against Sirius on the Saturday of November, he actually manages to get Sirius's wand out of his hand. Sirius laughs, picks up his wand, and says, "I guess I should stop going quite so easy on you, pup."
Harry groans, because although he's pleased with his progress, he's also tired. He's not getting anywhere with his wandless Finite, and he still hasn't picked his organization structure for his Occlumency, and Snape assigned two full feet on the function of dragonfly thoraxes in Girding Solution and what would happen if you didn't toast them first. Hopefully Millicent will be willing to help him with it tonight, is all he can think, because if his grade in Potions slips he's going to end up back on Snape's bad side, which he'd somehow avoided—his Head of House never had said anything about his war against Malfoy, maybe because peace had restored itself in the House without his intervention, and after all, the conflict had always been mostly personal, and only about reputation as an added bonus.
He flops down to sit on the floor, then decides to just go for it, and lies down, too, flat on his back against the cool stone of Sirius's classroom floor. He stares blankly at the grey stone of the ceiling and lets himself not think about anything at all for a moment, until he's interrupted by the soft shuffling sound of Sirius's robes. Then a huff, as Sirius levers himself down to sit on the floor beside him.
"You okay, kiddo?" Sirius asks, his voice soft and concerned.
"Just tired," Harry sighs at the ceiling. "I've been so busy."
"You have," Sirius says. "Well, just a few more weeks before term is over, and you'll get a bit of a break."
Harry hums and rolls over, so that he can prop himself up on his elbows and look at Sirius. "Are we going home for Christmas?"
"I'm not sure yet," Sirius says very carefully. There's something in his voice…
Oh no, Harry thinks. "What do you mean?"
"You could go home if you wanted," Sirius says. "Remus would stay with you, of course. But… I think I'm going to need to go hunting for Peter."
"Oh," Harry says. His heart sinks a little, and he frowns at the floor. "But… I could go back to the Doghouse? Stay with Remus?"
"If you wanted," Sirius says. "For now, at least, I trust the wards there. Hogwarts… might be safer, but we've already learned that it's not entirely safe. There might be nowhere not under a Fidelius that's entirely safe—though I'm not willing to resort to that just yet."
"Okay," Harry says. "Can… can I think about it?"
"Of course, pup," Sirius says. He pats Harry's shoulder, and Harry flops down again to press his cheek to the floor, ignore the way it makes his glasses dig into the side of the face. It hurts a bit that he won't get to spend Christmas with Sirius; he'd been looking forward to it. And… maybe also to getting to go see his parents again. But he doesn't want to ask about that now.
"I should go," Harry says after a moment. He pushes himself up, and Sirius rises next to him and then offers him a hand to help him get the rest of the way up to his feet. He wavers a little once he's up, exhausted from the spar and from everything, and Sirius steadies him. "I've got a Potions essay."
"I could probably get you an extension," Sirius offers. "Snape knows about the lessons I've been giving you and Neville—I think he grudgingly approves."
"Yeah," Harry says, who still remembers Snape's offer to help him with his Occlumency if he needed it. "I'm okay, I think. I probably shouldn't let myself slack off, or I'll get in the habit."
"Good thinking. You're smarter than I was at your age, that's for sure," Sirius says. He tugs Harry into a brief hug, and then with a wave of his wand banishes the dirt from Harry's robe and neatens its folds. "Alright then, off with you. I'll see you and Neville on Tuesday, alright?"
"Mhm." Harry gathers his satchel, waves goodbye, and heads off back to the Slytherin dorms. As he walks, he observes the hallways and statues and suits of armour, the portraits napping or gossiping or making themselves busy in their frames, the familiar scents and sounds of Hogwarts. In truth, it wouldn't be so very bad to spend Christmas here again; when mostly deserted and covered in snow over Christmas last year, the castle had taken on a truly magical quality, even beyond all its normal magical qualities. And perhaps one or another of his friends might be staying this year, or none of them, which would be its own sort of reward. It would be nice to have an entire day where he didn't have to speak to anyone if he didn't want to; right now, if he vanished for a day, or even for an hour, people would start getting worried. The Dursleys had been awful, but they also had never cared much where he went when he didn't have chores so long as he was out of their way, and there had been a certain freedom in that.
Harry sighs, realizing that he's nearly reached the common room, and perhaps he should put a calm, quiet face back on before he enters. No one in Slytherin needs to know what's going on in his head, especially when it's stupid and maudlin, brought on by tiredness and the lingering frustration and sorrow of knowing that Peter Pettigrew had at one point literally been in his hands, and instead of Harry being able to do anything about it, Pettigrew had nearly blown up most of Harry's Gryffindor's friends and gotten away with it.
"Ugh," Harry says to himself, wishes vaguely that he could scream instead, and then goes to let himself into the common room. He has a bloody Potions essay to write, and that's not going to wait for him to hunt down Pettigrew, much as he might like it to.
So Harry goes into the common room and writes his bloody essay—Millicent is there and joins him, and Hussain is lounging in one of the armchairs, waiting for Gemma to return from her Prefect's rounds, and offers a bit of advice on where in the textbook to look for some extra information, which helps. Then Harry retires to his dorm. Blaise and Theo are both already there, playing a game of cards, and both shoot him smiles when he arrives and shuffles about putting away his things. It's still fairly early in the evening, so he joins them for a while, chatting and playing another few rounds of cards. Then Harry retires to meditate and clear his mind before bed, and work on his Occlumency shields. He's got a basic wall now—not enough to keep out a master Legilimens even for a second, but enough hopefully to stymie an amateur, and enough of a barrier between his deepest thoughts and memories and everything else that he's been able to stop himself having any nightmares for the last week; clearing his mind has gotten a lot easier, too. Now, in order to strengthen that barrier, he needs to start building the structure of it up, as Neville has been doing with his greenhouse. But what to make it into?
And then, lying in the darkness, Harry thinks back to earlier that very day, walking to halls of Hogwarts and musing on their familiarity. He knows the castle like the back of his hand by now, after all his wandering last year and the new areas he's seen of it this year. And he's got the Marauder's Map, to bolster his memory and add unfamiliar rooms and passages, ones that almost no one knows about.
(Harry still doesn't know how Sirius had gotten Dumbledore to agree to let Harry keep the Map. It had ended up in the Headmaster's hands after the mess with Pettigrew—it was why the Weasley twins had gone after the rat in the first place. They'd seen his name on it, and tried to catch him out and get him to Dumbledore, but he'd spotted the Map in their hands and attacked before they could even get him out of the dorm. Harry knows, from the way that Sirius had made him swear solemnly—more solemnly—that he'd use it wisely and ensure that no one knew what it was, or even that he had it. The twins had been sworn to secrecy as well, not that they weren't already close-mouthed about it; they'd had it three years, after all, and never told a soul before Harry.
Whatever it had taken to get the Map back, Harry is grateful. It's a useful tool, of course, but more than that it's the last remnant of the real James Potter. His personality at age seventeen is preserved forever in the enchantment. Since getting the Map back, Harry has had multiple whispered midnight conversations with the text imprints, mostly about pranks, but also about what Harry's dad had enjoyed in school, what his mum had been like, what Sirius and Remus had been like… It's amazing. The imprint never remembered things well between conversations, which Sirius had told Harry to expect when Harry had asked him about how they'd made the Map. It's a learning enchantment, so it would begin to remember with repetition; it would also pick up an echo of Harry's own personality if he ever made additions to or annotations on the Map. It just took time, and exposure. Harry doesn't know what he might ever be able to add to the Map, but he does interact with it whenever he can, determined to have as much of his father as is possible.)
Between the Map and his own exploration—which he resolves to continue; maybe it really would be good to stay over the break—he has a very good chance of building a Hogwarts safe enough, enhanced with enough magical tricks and traps and switchabouts, to confuse any Legilimens, even one who knows Hogwarts well themself. It'll take time and effort, but… Harry thinks he can do it. He can start tonight; he knows the theory.
So he closes his eyes and he visualizes passages and doors and suits of armour with bared blades until he drifts off into dreaming.
November ends and December begins. Harry to study and train, trying to cram as much knowledge about defensive magic and Occlumency into his head as he possibly can so that he has plenty of things to practice during the break, when he has no teacher. He also starts making notes for himself of where he wants to do his exploring over the break. He doesn't have time during term, when he's so busy with extra lessons with Sirius, studying or hanging out with Neville and Hermione or with his Slytherin friends, Quidditch practice, and also the normal hours of work for class. But he can't wait for when the castle is empty and quiet and he'll have free rein to explore all its nooks and crannies, accompanied by his Cloak and the Map.
He tells Sirius his plans and receives a hair ruffle and the news that while Remus will surely miss his company over the break, they can perhaps arrange to all spend Christmas itself together, as they did last year. It's enough to finally salve the lingering hurt that had been born in Harry's heart when he'd first heard that Sirius was not going to bring him home for the break.
It helps that Neville will also be staying at Hogwarts. He tells Harry in an undertone one evening not long before the break starts that Dumbledore had finally filled in his gran on everything that had been happening, and while she had been less than pleased to have been kept in the dark, she'd at least agreed that Hogwarts was probably the safest place for him. The wards on Longbottom Manor are robust, but not nearly so ancient as those on the school. And it gives Neville the opportunity to stay with Harry and continue to practice their wandless magic and their Occlumency together.
Tentatively, Harry tells Neville about Snape's offer of assistance. With Sirius gone over the break, they won't be able to judge if their Occlumency is actually improving or if they're merely retreading the same paths. Two weeks, of course, isn't so long; they can go that long without a teacher if needed. But also… Harry increasingly thinks as December wears on that Sirius is perhaps going a little easy on them. He doesn't want to hurt them, even as he tries to break into their minds, and while Harry knows he's improving, he could be improving faster under a bit more pressure. When he brings this up with Neville, however, he gets little more than a nervous agreement that Snape might be an option, if they need it. Fine, Harry decides—if he feels ready for the challenge, he'll go to Snape alone. He wants to do this with Neville, but he doesn't have to; he's fully capable of taking the next steps by himself, if Neville doesn't feel ready.
Then, finally, the break arrives. As with last year, all the other Slytherins in Harry's year leave. So does almost everyone else he knows in Slytherin; the only exception is Hussain, who tells him at the first dinner after everyone has left that her family doesn't celebrate Christmas, and that while she has once gone to visit with Gemma's family over the break, it hadn't worked out this year. In the other Houses, too, most everyone is gone; even the Weasleys go, and Ron is transferred out of the Hogwarts infirmary to Saint Mungo's, where he can receive different, if not necessarily better, care. Sirius goes, too, leaving on the train to keep an eye on it during its journey; a hopefully-unnecessary precaution, he declares before he goes, and kisses Harry's forehead, and promises that they'll be seeing one another on Christmas Eve.
And then at last Harry has free rein over the whole of the castle, or nearly. He and Neville do some exploring together, poking around in abandoned classrooms, and one night Neville sneaks him into the Gryffindor common room under his Cloak; it's red and gold all over, much brighter than Harry is used to, but… warm, welcoming. If he'd been even a little different, he thinks, he might have ended up here. It's not like he can't fit in with Gryffindors, and he knows that while he's learned to be a good Slytherin, he has his bull-headed tendencies at times. After that, Harry makes it something of a sub-goal to one day get into all of the common rooms, just to see what they're like. He knows where the entrances are, thanks to the Marauder's Map—Ravenclaw is on the fifth floor, same as Gryffindor, and Hufflepuff is on the ground floor near the entrance to the kitchens—but he doesn't have the passwords.
Then, a few days before Christmas, while wandering the halls on the sixth floor, looking for any particularly interesting abandoned classrooms, he bumps into someone else. Literally, in fact: he turns a corner and collides with a figure even slighter than himself, who promptly topples to the ground.
"I'm sorry!" Harry says, and reaches to offer her—it's a girl, with long, somewhat messy white-blond hair and a Ravenclaw crest on her robes—a hand up.
She looks up at him with wide, pale blue eyes, and then smiles and takes his hand. There's a dreamy quality to her expression, and to her voice when she says, "Oh, thank you very much."
"Er," says Harry. "I am sorry for knocking you over. And…" It's about then that he registers that she's not wearing any shoes. "Did you… forget your shoes?"
"Oh, no," she says. "They went for a walk. Shoes do."
"… Right," says Harry. He's familiar, from ten years living with and going to school with Dudley, with his belongings 'going for a walk.' That's not actually what happened. "Well, er, maybe I could help you look for them. Or walk you to Flitwick's office; he does know an awful lot of Charms, and might know one for shoes gone walking."
She just continues to smile, and swings her arms a bit, and then says, "I suspect they would only go walking again once the holidays are over. I can do without. Thank you though. You're Harry Potter."
"Er." Harry blinks. "Yeah, that's me. I'm sorry, I don't know who you are." Other than a very strange Ravenclaw.
"I'm Luna Lovegood," she says. "I heard some Slytherins talking about you when I was in the library the other day."
"Oh?"
"Oh yes, you're quite strange," Luna says. "People seem to have very mixed opinions about you."
"How did you even hear that?" Harry asks. "Slytherins are usually pretty careful about, y'know, talking about stuff in public."
"Well, I'm quite strange as well, and also quite small, and so people don't always notice me—or if they do, they think I'm a bit mad, and don't care much what I hear," she says. She's swinging her arms again. "But, you know, crazy does not mean stupid."
"I don't think you're crazy," Harry says firmly, because he doesn't. She's definitely strange, but he doubts she's anything less than sane.
"Thank you," she says. "Well, perhaps I would like some company to walk back to Ravenclaw Tower."
"Sure," Harry says. He lets her lead the way—no need to show off his knowledge, though it's not exactly a secret where the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor common room entrances are.
After a while, she looks up at him with her wide, round eyes and says, "You know, there are probably a lot of Nargles in Slytherin."
"Nargles?" Harry asks, frowning. "What's that?"
"Oh, a magical creature," Luna says. She makes a vague gesture with her hands. "They're very small, and they live in mistletoe, and they like to steal things—they've taken my shoes a few times, as well."
"I see," Harry says. He doesn't, but that's okay. Maybe he'll learn about Nargles in Care of Magical Creatures, if he decides to take it next year. "Is there any way to stop them from stealing your things?"
"Oh, this," Luna says, and reaches a little awkwardly into the neck of her shirt. After a moment she gets ahold of the necklace she's wearing and pulls it out to show Harry—it's made of bottle corks that he thinks might come from Butterbeer, though he's only had one Butterbeer and doesn't entirely remember what the cork looked like. Certainly the necklace doesn't look to be made from muggle bottle caps or corks. "It keeps them away. Once I started wearing it, well, the Nargles can't have been stealing my shoes, so they must have just gone walking."
"Right, okay," Harry says, feeling now somewhat more skeptical about the existence of Nargles—or at least the existence of them in Ravenclaw tower, stealing one odd first-year's shoes. "Why do you say there must be a lot in Slytherin?"
"They like drama," Luna says, and smiles up at Harry. "You folks down in the dungeons do seem to have a lot of it."
"No kidding," Harry sighs. "You're pretty smart."
"Well, I am in Ravenclaw," she says.
"Ravenclaws like knowing things. Doesn't mean they're good at it."
She laughs. "I suppose you're right! Just like Slytherins want to be powerful, but not all of them are good at it."
"And Gryffindors want to be brave."
"And Hufflepuffs want to work hard!"
Both of them laugh, and Harry grins down at her. "I think you've got this school figured out better than some of the seventh years."
"I don't have many friends, and none in Ravenclaw," Luna says matter-of-factly. "It leaves lots of time for watching."
Harry thinks back to last year, when he'd only sort of been friends with Blaise and Theo, and only sort of been friends with Ron and Neville, and Hermione had been as much of an outcast as himself—and in a different house, too, so that even when he had gotten closer with the Gryffindors he hadn't been able to spend much time with them, being in different Houses. He'd had lots of time for watching then, too. "Yeah," he says. "I remember."
"You do, don't you," she says, and gives him a look like she can see right through him. It's unnerving. Then she smiles, and the feeling fades, and Harry is able to smile back.
"Well," he says, "if you ever need a study buddy, come find me. I'm usually in the study halls."
"With your Gryffindors," she says, with a knowing nod. "Okay. Thank you, Harry. You're very nice."
"You might be the only one who thinks that," he says, "but thanks, I guess."
She just turns her smile his way once more, and then they walk in silence the rest of the way back to the Ravenclaw common room's entrance. He says goodbye to her, suggests that she ask the house elves for help in finding her shoes, and heads off to find Neville. He wants to get a little bit more practice in before Christmas arrives, so that he can show something to Sirius.
They get a little further that day; Neville surprised himself at the beginning of the break by getting a handle on lighting or snuffing a candle almost right away. To test it, Harry had taken some time out of practicing his Finite to try to same trick, and found it equally easy; he and Neville had laughed about it, and Neville had said that he'd clearly shot too low. "Maybe you should try some Slytherin ambition," Harry had told him. So now Neville is working on a hand-held Lumos, which is proving to be much trickier, for whatever reason.
Harry has variable success with his Finite. He has a scrap of fabric from an old shirt that he charms first, to have a spell to end, so he's getting plenty of Charms practice, but he's only able to actually get the spell to end about a third of the time, and even then only with a lot of focus. What the trick might be for getting it to happen without him having to spend five minutes centering his mind and his intent first, he's not sure; really he first just wants to get the effect to actually happen all the time. It's really bloody hard. Still, Harry manages to get a Colour Change Charm to undo itself twice on the day before Christmas, which is enough of a victory that he and Neville spend a while whooping about it and then decide that they've done well enough work and that they can go get some lunch and have done with it for the day.
At dinner that night, Harry receives a note from Sirius saying that he'll be coming in the morning to pick Harry up, and that he should pack an overnight bag. He's cheered by that, and that night before parting to their separate common rooms, he lets Neville knows what's happening and says goodbye. Neville smiles and, shyly, says that perhaps they can have a small Christmas gift-exchange on Boxing Day. Harry agrees that that sounds good; he'd ordered gifts by owl-post some weeks ago and looks forward to seeing Neville open the Herbology-themed magical planner he'd bought. It includes moon phases, information about planting seasons, and is enchanted to check the weather each day; the magic is meant to last three to five years, so Neville will hopefully get good use out of it.
Harry goes up to the Owlery to make sure Hedwig gets some owl treats before he leaves, then back to the Slytherin dorms and to pack his overnight bag, finishes his Charms reading. He Occludes his mind before sleeping so that he doesn't dream, and he wakes on time, feeling fresh and excited for a day with Sirius and Remus. He dresses, grabs his bag, and heads for the Great Hall to have breakfast—Neville isn't up yet, but Hussain is, and they talk quietly about the Charms theory Harry had read last night until Harry is startled out of the conversation by a hand landing on his head and ruffling his hair.
He jerks around and finds that Sirius has snuck up on him and is grinning down; he jumps up then from his seat and throws his arms around his godfather in a huge hug.
"Hullo, pup," Sirius says, hugging him back. "Happy almost-Christmas. Shall we? Had breakfast already?"
Harry nods and pulls back to say goodbye to Hussain and grab his bag. As he does, Sirius waves to Dumbledore and receives a nod in return, which is apparently enough acknowledgement that they leave the Hall without another word to anyone. As they walk through the halls, Sirius asks, "So, Miss Hussain stayed for the break as well?"
"Mhm." Harry shifts his bag a little further up his shoulder, taking note that they seem to be headed for the main doors. "She said her family doesn't celebrate Christmas."
"That makes sense," Sirius says, and gestures to his head. "They must be Muslim."
"Muslim?" Harry frowns; the word is vaguely familiar, but not from the magical world—a muggle term?
"It's a religion. Well, Islam is the religion; Muslim people are its followers, I suppose," Sirius says, glancing down at him. "You don't know? There are a lot more religious folk in the muggle world."
"I know," Harry says. "The Dursleys didn't talk much about anything like that though, and when they did it wasn't… nice, usually. So I ignored a lot of it. I only really remember what I learned in school."
"Hm," Sirius says. "Well. I'll admit I don't know much either, just that it's a religion, monotheistic like Christianity or Judaism, and her being Muslim explains the headscarf."
"Oh," Harry says. He'd wondered about the scarf Hussain wore a little—she didn't always wear the same one, she had them in a bunch of different colours and patterns, but she always wore it and never took it off. "Okay."
"You seem unbothered."
Harry shrugs. "S'not really my business, is it?"
"No, indeed," Sirius says with a bit of a chuckle. "You're a good kid. How's your break been?"
Harry launches into a recap, telling Sirius about his adventures exploring the school, his studies with Neville, and his meeting with the mysterious Luna Lovegood. The gist, really, is that his break has been good. The account takes the two of them out of the castle and down the road all the way to the front gates, and then beyond. Once they're partway down the path to Hogsmeade, Sirius stops and says, "Alright, grab on. We'll Apparate into London."
"Ugh," says Harry, which makes Sirius laugh, but he does grab onto Sirius's arm as instructed. After the usual intense, nauseating squeeze of Side-along Apparition, they rematerialize in a London alleyway, the Apparition point near the Doghouse. They wait a moment for Harry to steady his spinning head and catch his breath, and then Sirius says that they've got to stop and pick up something for a dinner; Remus had requested ham.
The shop is a bit of a zoo, it being Christmas Eve morning, which Harry could have predicted, but they do manage to snag a small ham and some brussels sprouts, and then they stroll back to the Doghouse. It's cold outside and overcast, but bright and not raining, and Harry can't wait to have another warm Christmas with Sirius and Remus. When they arrive at the flat, Harry finds that they've made the same effort toward decorating that they made last year, which is to say not much. But the small Christmas tree is again set up by the window, with its ornaments and some gold tinsel, and the fairy in a cage atop its highest branch. The soft ticking of the grandfather clock and the sound of Remus puttering in the kitchen is familiar now after a summer here, and with the addition of cool winter's light and a fire in the fireplace, stepping into the den feels very much like coming home. Harry had never once felt this way arriving at the Dursleys', and while Hogwarts was home too, in its own way, the Doghouse was just much more Harry's own; he fits here, and he loves it, and he flops onto the yellow couch happily while Sirius takes the groceries into the kitchen and greets Remus. After a moment, Remus comes out and smiles over the back of the couch at Harry, who is grinning at the ceiling.
"Hullo, Remus," Harry says.
"Hello, you," Remus says. "Glad to have you back."
"Thanks." Harry beams up at him, and then sits up so that Remus can join him on the couch; Sirius has taken up the kitchen puttering, and Remus asks him to recount again the events of the break, but also to tell him about how term has been going. Harry's stories of the prank offensive against Draco Malfoy are greeted with laughter, and his story about the Quidditch tryouts—he'd written Remus after he'd made the team, but not included many details, knowing he'd be home for Christmas. And he is, if perhaps in a different fashion than he'd expected. Remus gently drills him on what he's been learning in his classes, and when Sirius comes into the den to sit in his ugly armchair Remus asks teasing questions about what Harry thinks of the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Harry shares a few of the more outlandish stories that he can think of—hide and go seek in the halls, for one—and then tells Remus about everything they've been doing in their private sessions. Sirius looks on with pride, and when Harry mentions his Occlumency, says, "He's been doing great, Remus, you wouldn't believe."
"I've no doubt," Remus says, leaning over to give Harry a half-hug. "You've quite a talent for Defence, Harry."
"Well…" Harry says, bashful. "I just practice a lot."
"Have you started building your structure?" Sirius asks, leaning in slightly.
"Oh, yes," Harry says. "Maybe we could practice a little tonight, and I could show you?"
"Sure thing," Sirius says. "I look forward to it. And how have you and Neville been doing with your wandless spells?"
"He managed the thing with the candle," Harry says. "It was too easy, really; I told him he ought to be more ambitious, because I tried it too and got it pretty quickly as well. So he's working on Lumos now."
"You would say that, my little Slytherin," Sirius says, amused. "But good on you both; even that much really isn't as easy as you may feel it is, having accomplished it. And what about you? The Finite?"
Harry sighs, put-upon, drawing chuckles from both Remus and Sirius. "It's hard!" Harry says defensively. "It's really hard, ugh. I can make it work sometimes, but I have to concentrate for a long time first. I hope I'll get faster, or it won't be any good."
"You will," Sirius says confidently. "Even aside from your talent, which is evident in all our lessons together, you'll get faster with your wandless spells as you practice them. Regular spells are similar, really, it's just that—well, okay." He almost visibly settles into Professor Mode, which makes Harry and Remus both smile. "When you cast a spell for the first time, it carves a sort of… pathway. Each spell's pathway, the shape it makes in your magic, is different. A wand assists spellcasting in two ways: it creates a pre-existing path for your magic to get from your magical core into the world, and it remembers the shapes of the pathways that spells create when you cast them. That's how a Priori Incantatem works, of course, but it also means that your magic doesn't have to do the work of remembering the pathway—your wand does it for you. When you cast wandlessly, however, you have to both create the path from your core to the outside on your own, which is why it takes so much will and focus, and your magic has to remember the pathway every time, until eventually it gets into your long-term magical memory, much like learning something with your mind."
Harry nods thoughtfully. "Right, okay. So, with repetition, my magic will remember the pathway, and it'll get easier."
"Yes, exactly," Sirius says. "The more complicated the spell, the more complicated the pathway, and the harder to learn wandless. It'll also be harder with spells you don't cast often even with your wand; your practice might be served by practicing the spell with your wand, as well."
"Okay," Harry says. He pauses for a moment, thinks that over, and then nods again. "How do you even know this stuff?"
Remus makes an agreeing noise. "I hadn't realized you were a scholar of esoteric magical theory, Sirius."
Sirius looks embarrassed. "I'm not," he says. "But, well… admittedly, I'm wasn't much of an expert in wandless magic—I'd never thought it achievable, so I never really looked into it beyond the barest basics. But when you and Neville get so interested," he says, with a nod toward Harry, "I decided that I ought to brush up so that I could actually teach you effectively. Turns out it's interesting stuff."
Harry flushes with pleasure, and grins at Sirius. "Thanks, Sirius," he says. "It is interesting, and you have been a good teacher."
"Well," Sirius says, and waves a hand, though his cheeks are flushed as well. "I'm glad you think so."
Harry does think so, and goes back to telling Remus stories about things they've done in Defence this term. It really has been amazing; Sirius is a much better teacher than Quirrell was, even aside from not being possessed by Voldemort.
They pass the morning like that, talking and catching up. It's nice to catch up with Remus properly, of course, but also to spend time with Sirius in a less formal circumstance. Harry loves having him as Defence teacher, of course, but he'd missed having his godfather, with his often-irreverent sense of humour, and his loud barking laugh, and his easy flirtation toward Remus and affection toward them both. More than the comfy couch and warm fire of the Doghouse, Harry has missed this. He'd gotten used to having people who care about him shockingly fast over the summer; he'd missed the ease of it at Hogwarts, when he had to be on his guard all the time.
They have lunch and then Harry reads for a while, curled up on one end of the couch, while Sirius sits in his armchair with a paper and Remus goes out to have a smoke. They talk now and then, Harry making a comment on something in his book or Sirius sharing a page of the paper with an interesting story. Harry is still enthralled by magical photographs; he just can't get over the fact that they move. The afternoon wears on comfortably, until it's time to put in the ham, which Remus does, and then after a while to begin preparing the rest of dinner. The kitchen is hot from the oven being on and Harry sheds his jumper and then decides that it's pleasant, so he sits at the kitchen table for a while to work on his last bit of homework for the break. Remus sits down with him between cooking tasks, offering help if he needs, but Harry ends up muddling through alright until it's time for dinner. Sirius breaks out the Christmas crackers, magical like those they'd had at Hogwarts the year before, and they pull them over their empty plates. Harry's cracker produces a tiara, Remus's a fetching dark grey newsboy's cap, and Sirius's a ginormous Chinese rice paddy hat; Harry insists that Sirius wear the tiara to match his long wavy hair, steals the cap from Remus, and sets the Chinese hat aside for the moment so that it doesn't get any anyone's way while trying to eat dinner. It's a wonderful meal, topped off with an icebox pudding pie that Remus had made earlier and glasses of eggnog—with rum for Remus and Sirius; they allow Harry a taste, but he decides he doesn't like it—for everyone.
The evening passes much the same way the morning had, talking and laughing; Sirius and Harry play a game of cards before Harry has to go to bed. Just before he heads off to get ready for sleeping, Sirius turns to him during a gentle lull in conversation and says, "Harry, I wanted to ask…"
Harry turns to look at him inquisitively, which he takes as the invitation to continue that it is. "Last year, we went to see your parents at Christmas. Would you… like to go again tomorrow?"
Harry swallows, feeling a little like someone has thrown cold water on him. "Yeah," he says, and when his voice breaks a little, he clears his throat and says, again, "Yes. I mean, yeah, I'd like that."
"Alright," Sirius says, and lets out a breath. "Remus and I… we haven't wanted to push you on it. I know it can be… a challenge, to see them like that."
"I guess," Harry says, and looks down. "I know it's probably harder on you than on me. I didn't want to bring it up, since you didn't want to talk about it."
He doesn't see the alarmed look that Sirius and Remus exchange, but he does glance up when the silence stretches too long and sees both of them looking at him, furrows of worry in their brows. "What?" he says.
"Harry," Remus says carefully. "I'm sorry. We'd thought we were doing you a service in not forcing you to discuss your parents; you were very close-mouthed about your feelings on the topic, and you're very independent, and…" He pauses and rubs his face. "I'm buggering this up, I'm afraid."
"What Remus is trying to say," Sirius says, "is that we weren't talking about your parents because we didn't think you wanted to talk about them—we had no idea you weren't talking about them because you thought the same."
"That we didn't want to visit or discuss them, that is," Remus adds.
Harry stares and them both, and then bites his lip and looks down again, because he's not sure, really, how to deal with that. Maybe they could have gone to see his parents over the summer, if he'd asked. But… "Sorry," he says. "I just… I didn't really want to talk about it, you're right."
"Well," Sirius says. A hand lands on Harry's shoulder and he startles a little; he hadn't heard Sirius get up. But when he looks, he finds it's Remus who has shifted closer to touch him.
"You know now," Remus says quietly. "You can talk to us about anything, Harry. Either of us, too—you don't need to get us both if you need something. Neither of us minds you having feelings, or only being able to process them in front of one person at a time."
"We'll go see James and Lily tomorrow," Sirius says. He's got that definite tone of his in his voice, the one he often gets when he's made a decision. "I'm sorry we waited this long, though I know it makes little difference to them."
"Yeah," Harry says. "Okay."
Remus rubs Harry's arm briefly and then lets him go and sits back. "Why don't you scurry off to get ready for bed, Harry. Tomorrow's Christmas, so we'll have gifts and a nice lazy morning, then the hospital, then back to Hogwarts with you."
Harry nods, and then impulsively he leans forward to hug Remus hard. When he gets up he does to same to Sirius before he darts out of the den to go brush his teeth and get into pajamas. He's determined that tomorrow will be a good day.