HARRY POTTER AND THE SECRETS OF THE SHADE CHAPTER 45: YULETIDE JOYS, a harry potter fanfic

CHAPTER 45: YULETIDE JOYS

The room had transformed since the summer, now adorned with sparkling decorations that exuded holiday cheer. A tall Christmas tree stood in the center, its branches adorned with ribbons, garlands, and twinkling lights of every color. Underneath it, piles of brightly wrapped presents spilled out into the room. Decorations of all types—globes, candles, trinkets, and figurines of Père Noël and the nativity—filled the space. A large, sprawling Christmas village in one corner was particularly captivating, with its animated figures moving about in a scene that seemed almost alive. The tiny villagers went about their activities, children played, lights twinkled, and occasionally, one of the figures would stop to wave at the onlookers.

"This is amazing!" Harry exclaimed, his eyes wide with fascination.

"Thank you, Harry," an amused voice said from behind him. Apolline had entered the room quietly and was watching the two English teens with a smile.

"Maman truly loves Christmas," Fleur stated from where she sat on a sofa. "It's her favorite holiday of the year."

Harry turned to Apolline, who looked pleased with their reactions. "You've outdone yourself, Mrs. Delacour. This is incredible."

Apolline laughed softly. "Please, Harry, call me Apolline. And thank you. Christmas is a special time for our family, and I like to make it as magical as possible."

Hermione, who had been admiring a particularly intricate figurine of a child ice-skating, nodded in agreement. "It's truly wonderful. I've never seen anything like it."

"Well, we're glad you like it," Apolline said warmly. "We wanted this Christmas to be special for all of you."

Jean-Sebastian entered the room, followed by the rest of the group, including the Grangers and the other Delacours. "It's not just the decorations that make it special," he said, placing an arm around Apolline. "It's having family and friends together."

Sirius, who had been inspecting a miniature train circling the Christmas village, looked up with a grin. "And speaking of special, I can't wait to hear about your adventures, Harry. But first, I think we all need to unwind a bit."

With everyone settled in, the atmosphere grew even more festive. The group spent the next few hours mingling, sharing stories, and enjoying the warmth and comfort of the Delacour home. Harry felt an overwhelming sense of happiness and belonging, a stark contrast to the lonely Christmases he had endured with the Dursleys.

Later, as they gathered around the tree for hot cocoa and more stories, Harry found himself seated between Hermione and Fleur. He couldn't help but marvel at how his life had changed. Surrounded by friends and family, he finally understood what it meant to have a real Christmas. And for the first time in his life, he was excited not just for the holiday, but for the future as well.

"She charmed the set herself!" Gabrielle chimed in from her seat beside Fleur.

"It's one of the best Christmas decorations I've ever seen," Harry said, meaning every word. "It's amazing!"

Apolline's returning smile was filled with a fondness that Harry could almost feel, causing a lump to form in his throat and a hint of tears to well up in his eyes. "We want this Christmas to be very special for you, Harry. After all, it's your first Christmas as part of our family."

The word "family" made Harry choke up even more. Throughout his life, all he had wanted was a family to call his own. While the Weasleys had been kind and welcoming, this was the first time he felt the warmth of true love, respect, and friendship—the hallmarks of any family. He knew the Delacours would never replace his parents, but they offered him a new kind of family. Gabrielle could be the sister he never had, and Fleur... Fleur would be his companion and wife. He already felt he would be deliriously happy with her.

"I was wondering something," Hermione spoke up from Harry's side. Harry, noticing her surreptitious glance, correctly deduced that she was trying to distract attention from him so he could regain his composure.

Apolline smiled and nodded for Hermione to continue.

"I've always wondered why Christmas is celebrated in the Wizarding world. I don't know that I've ever heard of a church or anything, and most people I've met don't seem to be overly religious."

Exchanging a glance with her husband, Apolline smiled at Hermione. Even the Grangers appeared interested, though Harry wasn't certain if they were overly religious either.

"That is a very good question, Hermione," the Delacour matron observed. "And it has a very good answer. Many of us are still religious, though technically, we don't belong to any church."

Frowning, Hermione asked, "What do you mean?"

"The answer lies back in the witch hunts," Jean-Sebastian answered. "You know of the witch hunts, I presume?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, there have been many witch hunts, some as far back as ancient Greece or the Roman Empire."

"Indeed," Jean-Sebastian continued. "During those times, witches and wizards faced severe persecution. As a result, many of our ancestors had to hide their beliefs and practices to survive. Over time, magical families developed their own ways of celebrating and practicing their faiths, blending them with magical traditions."

Apolline added, "Christmas, for us, became a celebration of family, togetherness, and the magic of the season. While we may not attend church services, we still honor the spirit of the holiday through our own customs and traditions."

Hermione's eyes lit up with understanding. "So, it's more about the spirit of the season and less about the religious aspects?"

"Exactly," Apolline confirmed. "We honor the traditions of our ancestors while embracing the universal themes of love, joy, and generosity that Christmas represents."

Elizabeth Granger, who had been listening intently, chimed in. "That sounds very much like how many people celebrate Christmas in the Muggle world, focusing on family and togetherness rather than religious rituals."

Jean-Sebastian nodded. "Yes, and it creates a beautiful bridge between our two worlds, allowing us to celebrate together despite our differences."

Feeling more at ease, Harry looked around the room at the people who had become his family. He felt a deep sense of belonging and warmth, knowing that this Christmas would be one he would always cherish.

"That is correct," Jean-Sebastian affirmed. "The witch hunts were often a failure. Oh, there were definitely executions of both witches and wizards, but for the most part, innocent men and women were picked up for being strange, looking different, or just being thought of as loners. Real magicals had more tools to protect themselves, even centuries ago, as long as they were able to keep their heads and keep their hands on their wands."

"But what you must understand," Apolline took up the explanation, "is that such burnings were usually done by religious zealots, and the churches at the time had a hand in prosecuting these women. As such, organized religion—especially in Europe in the late Middle Ages—was not exactly looked upon with favor. It's hard to support the local religion when the leader of that religion is persecuting you and screaming to his flock that you are a godless heathen.

"In the late 1600s, relations between the Wizarding world and the Muggle world became particularly strained with the various persecutions of magicals, particularly due to the inquisitions of the Roman Catholic Church. The Statute of Secrecy was enacted, separating the two worlds, and this left magicals without access to churches—magical priests were by this time almost unknown. Besides, there likely would not have been many who would have been willing to attend church by that time anyway."

Fascinated, Harry listened to the explanation, wishing that Professor Binns knew something about this rather than all the Goblin Rebellions he typically droned on about. Maybe he'd actually stay awake in History class if it dealt with more actual history.

"But of course, that left many people without a place to worship," Jean-Sebastian continued. "Take France for example. This country has always been heavily Catholic, even after the events of the Reformation. But magical attendance at church had been in steady decline for some time due to the persecutions. Some still attended at times, keeping their nature carefully secret, if only to be able to continue to worship. But even that practice halted over time.

"But that didn't mean that the people had any less faith, only that they now did not have any direction in which to express that faith. So, while church attendance essentially became a thing of the past, many still practiced their faith in their own way, saying their own prayers, reading their Bibles, and trying to follow what they knew by themselves."

Though she clearly understood what was being explained, Hermione still had a frown on her face. "But wouldn't that lead to fracturing and many different traditions?"

Jean-Sebastian nodded. "Indeed, it did. But it also led to a rich diversity in how magical families celebrate. Over time, magical communities developed their own traditions that blended religious practices with magical ones. Some families might still celebrate with a nativity scene, while others might focus more on the magical aspects of the season."

Apolline added, "For example, our family has always kept some of the traditional Christian elements in our celebrations, but we also have our unique magical traditions. The animated village you admired is one such tradition, created by my grandmother and enchanted by each generation since."

Hermione's eyes lit up with understanding. "So, it's about preserving the essence of the season, while also making it your own?"

"Exactly," Apolline confirmed. "It's about celebrating love, family, and the magic that binds us all together, in ways that are meaningful to us."

Jean-Sebastian nodded. "Yes, and it creates a beautiful bridge between our two worlds, allowing us to celebrate together despite our differences."

As the conversation continued, Sirius entered the room with a mischievous grin. "I hope no one's forgotten that we still need to show Harry how we celebrate Christmas the Delacour way. It involves a lot more than just decorations."

Harry looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, you'll see," Sirius said with a wink. "Let's just say it involves a few surprises."

With that intriguing promise hanging in the air, the group settled in, eager to share and create new memories together. The festive spirit was palpable, and Harry felt more at home than he ever had before.

"Indeed it does," agreed Jean-Sebastian. "Take my family, for example. Religion is not a large part of our lives, but we do still practice some of the traditions of the Catholic faith, especially around Christmas and Easter. In time, some of the more recent traditions, such as our Christmas tree," Jean-Sebastian gestured to the massive tree, "the Child's story of Father Christmas, and other things have also crept into our customs as well. I personally believe in the creation story and in Jesus Christ, though I believe religions in general have ceased to be mouthpieces for God, as they have persecuted some of God's children. He created us as well as the Muggles, after all. But our family traditions are undoubtedly different from those of other families, simply due to the fact that we don't, as a society, talk about them very much."

Hermione was silent for several moments as she digested all she had been told. It made sense, Harry thought. Though he himself was not overtly religious—the Dursleys had rarely gone to church, essentially being Christmas and Easter Christians—and they had never, in his memory, allowed him to go. His "unnatural ways" had rendered him a godless freak, after all, and attendance was deemed unnecessary for him. Personally, Harry had always considered them hypocrites, but he was not about to say that to Vernon—though his uncle had rarely actually laid a hand on him, that might have prompted a thrashing if he'd been stupid enough to say it.

"That's curious," Hermione finally responded. "I never saw anything like that in England, though the Weasleys were the only family I actually stayed with. Certainly none of the students at Hogwarts displayed much of an interest in religion."

Jean-Sebastian chuckled. "How many children are serious or spiritual enough to actually be interested in religion?" he asked rhetorically. "And England is a little different in any case. English magicals often showed little dedication to the tenets of their faith, probably because they were far enough away from the center of early organized religion that it was not a part of their everyday lives."

"And it's gotten even worse since the rise of Pureblood bigotry," Sirius interjected with a derisive snort. "It has something to do with the fact that a Pureblood supremacist cannot fathom the thought that there is anything above them, even a God."

"Then what do they believe as far as a creation story?" Harry asked with some interest.

"They try not to think about it," was Sirius's blunt response. "To a Pureblood, bloodlines are everything, and the ones who are most concerned with their bloodlines can trace them back a thousand years or more. Anyone further back is not worth their time or energy."

Harry felt a mixture of fascination and repulsion at Sirius's words. The Pureblood ideology seemed more like a twisted obsession with lineage rather than any genuine spiritual belief. It was a stark contrast to the sense of unity and acceptance he felt among the Delacours and his newfound family.

Hermione nodded appreciatively. "It's beautiful."

"I think you will find, my dear, that there are many similarities between what you have normally done for your own Christmas celebration, and what you will find here," said Apolline. "In fact, now that you have seen our tree, come out to the front of the castle, and we will show you our pride and joy of the Christmas season."

The group agreed, and soon they were all trooping from the room, following the elder Delacours. The rest of the house, though Harry had not truly looked before, was decorated in the same manner as the room they had just left, with ribbons of all colors, holly boughs, and seemingly every nook and cranny stuffed with trinkets of all kinds. But contrary to what Harry might have thought, the overall effect was anything but garish—it instead bespoke a pride of home and joy of the season which, if Harry were to think about it, was completely different from the Dursleys' almost perfunctory celebration of the Christmas season.

The entrance to the chateau soon appeared, and Harry followed the others outside, stepping into a veritable fairyland of winter beauties. The chateau was located in the foothills of the French Alps not far from Switzerland, and the weather was a little more conducive to a traditional cold and snowy Christmas than its proximity to the Mediterranean would suggest. It had clearly snowed the night before, as the ground was coated with a blanket of new white snow, and though the air was crisp, it was not overly cold to any who were used to the more extreme Scottish winter. All of this faded to the background in an instant, however, as the visitors' eyes were immediately arrested by the most incredible nativity scene Harry had ever seen in his life. It was life-sized and consisted of all the traditional figures which would normally grace such a scene, but whereas the one he had often seen at the local church had been equally large, this one was exquisite in the detailing of the carving and painting, and Harry suspected that if one were to look at it from a distance, the characters would almost seem alive.

"This is our family nativity scene," Jean-Sebastian said, "in French, our la Crèche de Noël."

Harry stood in awe, taking in the scene before him. The figures seemed to emanate a sense of peace and reverence, and he felt a profound sense of connection to the story they depicted. It was as if he could almost hear the whispered voices of the shepherds and feel the warmth of the animals gathered around the manger. It was a moment of quiet beauty amidst the bustling excitement of the holiday season, and Harry felt grateful to be experiencing it with his newfound family.

As they lingered by the nativity scene, Harry couldn't help but reflect on the significance of Christmas. It wasn't just about the presents or the decorations—it was about coming together with loved ones, sharing in traditions, and celebrating the hope and joy that the season brought. And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth and love of the Delacours, Harry felt truly at home.

"Well, that truly is amazing," William complimented with an appreciative smile. "No one would accuse me of being overly religious, but this is what Christmas is all about, is it not?"

"It is indeed, my friend," replied Jean-Sebastian. "I think sometimes the world as a whole tends to get a little too caught up in the traditions of gifts and all this nonsense of Père Noël and completely forgets that we are actually celebrating the birth of Christ."

"Did you make these?" Harry asked, eying the figures which looked like they were brand new.

"No, these are several hundred years old. They were created by a brother of one of my ancestors. In 1779, my ancestor Pierre Delacour married a Muggleborn by the name of Marie Deschamps. Marie had a younger brother who was stricken with a disease of the mind. While he was brilliant, he was emotionally incapable of dealing with the world, as the presence of anyone not intimately known to him caused him to panic. But he was also very talented with his hands. He was the one who carved these for his sister's first Christmas as a gift. They have become one of my family's most priceless heirlooms, and are proudly displayed out on our front lawn every year at Christmas."

The group stood outside admiring the nativity set for several moments before Gabrielle, who had appeared impatient to commandeer some of Harry's time, suddenly had enough. She grasped him by the hand firmly and dragged him back into the house to take what she considered to be an overdue tour of what had been done for the festive season. As Harry allowed himself to be dragged away, he managed to catch Fleur's glance. She merely laughed and shooed him away with her younger sister, knowing as she did Gabrielle's almost hero worship.

Harry was more than willing to go along with the young girl. That Christmas promised to be the best he had ever had!

In truth, it was the best Christmas for Harry. For an attention and affection starved young man, the sights and sounds, the activities, all carefully planned by their hosts, the customs which truly made it a season to celebrate, all rolled into a series of events which Harry lapped up as though he were a dog, dying from thirst.

First, as he had promised his best friend's father, they went golfing the very next day, and as Jean-Sebastian had said, Sirius was almost gleeful at the opportunity to try something new. Of course, that was not to say that he was ready to follow the rules. Sirius's antics were at their most outrageous that day. He swung his borrowed clubs almost as though they were just sticks, flailing at his ball in a most amusing fashion, while using every underhanded trick to gain some advantage. He vanished Harry's ball at least three separate times, took to using his wand to try to banish a ball in flight in another direction—and had even succeeded once or twice!—and generally provided laughter for the others, particularly Jean-Sebastian and William, who took their game much more seriously. In fact, he almost got them into trouble on one hole, as he, true to Harry's prediction, almost got caught using his wand by some other golfers when he banished his ball toward the hole, and then claimed that he had used his putter to do the honors. If the group behind them had been even a few seconds faster, he would have been caught.

For Harry himself, he found that he was better at the game than he would have had a right to expect, being a pure beginner.

"That's the way to do it, Harry!" William exclaimed after Harry had managed to get off a particularly good tee shot about halfway into their game. "We'll make a golfer out of you yet!"

All in all, it was good fun, and Harry was glad he had been persuaded to accompany the man to the course.

After their time on the course, they met the rest of the party in Marseilles, and spent the rest of the day finishing off some last-minute Christmas shopping. They then ate a wonderful French dinner at an expensive restaurant before returning to the chateau for the night.

On Christmas Eve, the whole party gathered in the living room for an event which was much looked forward to by the entire group. The night before, when discussing the topic, Jean-Sebastian had informed them all that it was tradition in the Delacour family for the entire family to go out into the neighboring woods and to cut the Yule Log which would be used in their fireplace on Christmas morning. Needless to say, they were all looking forward to the experience.

As they walked, all bundled up against the cold of the late December morning, Harry asked Hermione, "Did you do anything like this in England?"

"No," Hermione replied with a smile. "Though there may be some parts of England where they do this sort of thing, I grew up close to London, and we couldn't exactly go to the local park and cut down a tree."

"Unfortunately, the cutting of the Yule Log has become somewhat of a forgotten tradition," Fleur added from Harry's other side. "There are some like us who still observe it, but relatively few still do."

"What is it for?" Harry asked curiously, not truly knowing much about the traditions of his betrothed's homeland.

"It's for our Christmas fire," Fleur explained. "It's a large log which has symbolic significance because the tree is cut down, and is used to light and warm the house throughout the day. Once we have completed cutting it, we will drag it back to the chateau and place it in the large fireplace in our living room. Then, on Christmas morning before we open up our gifts, my father will light it, using a piece which was saved from last year's log, and it will burn for the rest of the day."

Fleur let out a bit of a giggle before continuing, "The house-elves are generally not very happy with it—it's the one thing they aren't allowed to help with or use magic on."

Harry glanced at Hermione, surprised to find that she was not at all upset by the mention of house-elves. Clearly, Fleur had taken her aside at some point and explained to her the reason why they were in service to wizards, a necessity of their continued existence as magical creatures. In fact, the Delacour house-elves were more along the lines of family members than servants, though it was true that they did most of the work to keep the house running. Still, they were well treated and given gifts at Christmas—though not clothes!—and were expected to sleep in good beds, and eat the same food as the family, though even the Delacours, with their close relationship with their elves could not get them to eat at the same table as the family.

As Harry strode alongside his companions, ready to respond to their conversation, he was caught off guard by a sudden impact on the back of his head. Stumbling forward, he instinctively reached up, his hand encountering an unexpected chill. Pulling his hand back, he found it coated in snowflakes, with more melting down the back of his neck.

Whirling around, Harry's eyes narrowed as he beheld the mischievous grin of a certain Marauder. The culprit, Sirius Black, stood there tossing a snowball up and down, his expression gleeful and full of mischief. Sharing a knowing look with Hermione and Fleur, Harry knew retaliation was inevitable. With a silent agreement, the trio scooped up handfuls of snow and launched their own barrage at Sirius.

"Hey, no fair!" Sirius protested between fits of laughter as he dodged their onslaught. "Three against one isn't cricket!"

"Should've thought about that before you started, mate!" Harry retorted, grinning as Hermione landed a particularly precise shot square on Sirius' nose.

The snowball skirmish escalated, drawing amused glances from the rest of their companions. Despite being outnumbered, Sirius held his own, retaliating with equal vigor. The playful exchange took a hilarious turn when Sirius transformed into his animagus form, a large black dog, darting amongst the group with boundless energy.

Harry managed a few well-aimed shots at the moving target, but the game reached its peak when Sirius bounded over to Hermione and, with a playful yip, planted a sloppy doggy kiss on her cheek. Hermione's shriek of indignation echoed across the snowy landscape, threatening retribution that even Sirius couldn't ignore.

The threat of hexes and jinxes brought an abrupt end to the snowball fight, but not before laughter had filled the air, bonding the friends even closer in their shared mischief and camaraderie.

With the snowball fight concluded, the group continued their journey, soon finding themselves in a secluded grove of trees just a few minutes from the chateau. As they entered the wooded area, their attention turned to the task at hand: finding the perfect fir tree to serve as the centerpiece of their day-long fire.

Jean-Sebastian took the lead, offering guidance on what to look for. "We need a tree that's big enough to sustain a fire throughout the day, but not so massive that it becomes an impossible task to cut it down."

The other men puffed up at the challenge, eager to display their strength, while the women exchanged amused glances, clearly unimpressed by the display of machismo. Harry, on the other hand, grinned at the prospect, eager to try his hand at the traditional task, even if he didn't expect to succeed in felling a tree single-handedly.

Together, they scoured the area, examining several potential candidates. The Delacours, with their experience in such matters, had the final say on whether a tree was suitable. Jean-Sebastian, in particular, bore the weight of responsibility, knowing that it would be up to the men to turn the chosen tree into the fuel that would warm them throughout the day.

After a thorough search, Harry's eyes settled on a tree that seemed promising. "How about this one?" he suggested, gesturing towards the towering fir that loomed above them. While not colossal, it possessed a sturdy girth and a straight posture, promising a steady burn without overwhelming their fireplace.

Jean-Sebastian joined Harry, inspecting the chosen tree with a critical eye. After a moment of consideration, he turned to Harry with a nod of approval. "An excellent choice, Harry. This tree should serve our purpose admirably."

With the decision made, Jean-Sebastian retrieved a sack he had been carrying, revealing a collection of long, formidable axes. As he distributed them among the group, he explained the next steps.

"Now, my friends, comes the laborious part," Jean-Sebastian began, his tone carrying a hint of jest. "We must rely on our strength to bring down this tree. While none of us are seasoned lumberjacks," he added with a playful glance at Sirius, who was once again exuding a macho aura, "I will employ a specialized axe for the task at hand."

The group gathered around, each grasping their axe with determination, ready to tackle the challenge ahead. With teamwork and perseverance, they were determined to conquer the formidable task of felling the chosen tree.

With a flourish, Jean-Sebastian retrieved a meticulously kept axe from his bag, its blade gleaming in the soft light filtering through the trees. "As I mentioned, much of our labor today will rely on our own strength. However, we've allowed a touch of... assistance to aid us in our endeavors."

He held up the enchanted axes for all to see, their edges shimmering with a magical sharpness. "These axes have been charmed to maintain their razor sharpness and even lend us a bit of extra power with each swing."

But then, Jean-Sebastian unveiled a larger, more imposing axe from a specially enchanted leather bag. Its presence seemed to command attention, radiating an aura of formidable strength and ancient power. It was unmistakably no ordinary woodsman's tool.

"This axe," Jean-Sebastian explained reverently, "was crafted by one of my ancestors over a century ago. As our family dwindled in numbers, the task of cutting the Yule log became increasingly daunting, especially with young children to care for. So, he devised this enchanted axe to ease his burden until his sons were old enough to assist him."

The group gazed in awe at the magnificent weapon, recognizing the weight of tradition and ingenuity that it carried. With a nod of solemn respect, they prepared to wield it in honor of generations past and the festivities yet to come.

With a solemn expression, Jean-Sebastian addressed the group, his tone conveying the gravity of the moment. "I must warn you," he began, his gaze sweeping over the assembled party, "this is a highly dangerous weapon and should only be wielded by those who understand its power. I will use it to bring down the tree, after which it will be safely stowed away until next year. It can sever the trunk in a single stroke, so I advise everyone to stand back to avoid any accidents."

The Delacour women wasted no time in retreating to a safe distance, fully aware of what was about to transpire. Reluctantly, the others followed suit, heeding Jean-Sebastian's caution.

"Is it really that powerful?" William marveled, his voice tinged with awe.

"I can feel the energy radiating from it," Hermione replied, her eyes fixed on the enchanted axe. Fleur added with a hint of excitement, "You'll soon see for yourself!"

Eagerly anticipating the spectacle, Harry watched intently as Jean-Sebastian prepared the formidable tool for action. With deliberate care, Jean-Sebastian aimed the axe towards the base of the tree, his movements slow and deliberate. Then, with a fluid motion, he swung the axe back before driving it forward.

As the blade approached the tree's trunk, Jean-Sebastian uttered a single word, presumably an activation command or a magical incantation. In response, the enchanted axe surged forward, effortlessly slicing through the thick trunk as if it were mere water. The tree quivered for a moment, seemingly unaware of the impending doom at its base, before gracefully toppling over, gaining momentum until it crashed to the ground in a controlled descent, away from the group's position.

The onlookers stared in awe at the display of power, marveling at the seamless execution of magic and craftsmanship. With the tree felled, their Yule celebration could now truly begin, fueled by the warmth of tradition and the bonds of friendship.

Harry joined in the applause, his excitement mirrored by the rest of the group as they approached the fallen tree. Jean-Sebastian leaned casually on the enchanted axe, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he basked in their admiration.

"That's not an axe," William quipped, holding up his own tool. "That's an axe!" he finished the line with a flourish, gesturing towards the impressive weapon still cradled in Jean-Sebastian's grasp.

Hermione and Elizabeth exchanged amused glances, rolling their eyes at William's antics. Elizabeth playfully smacked her husband on the back of the head, but the others watched on with curiosity, unfamiliar with the reference.

"Don't mind daddy," Hermione explained with a fond smile. "He's just quoting one of his favorite movies from the eighties."

"I'll have to show it to you sometime," William chuckled, undeterred by his family's reactions. "It's a comedy classic."

Harry grinned, nodding in agreement before turning his attention back to Jean-Sebastian, who was carefully stowing the enchanted axe away. "That's quite the impressive axe, Jean-Sebastian."

"It certainly is," Jean-Sebastian replied with a chuckle. "But it's also quite dangerous if mishandled."

"I'm surprised it didn't fly out of your hands with all that power," Harry remarked, genuinely intrigued.

"It's charmed to halt its motion and prevent any unintended accidents," Jean-Sebastian explained, finishing his task. "And the axe head emits a field of magical energy, akin to a standard cutting charm but amplified many times over. It's that energy which does the cutting, not the physical blade."

"Now that we have our tree," Jean-Sebastian declared, hoisting an axe similar to those wielded by the others, "shall we begin the task of shaping it?"

With renewed vigor, they set to work, starting by lopping off the branches that protruded from the trunk. The severed branches were neatly piled to the side, clearing the way for the next step. Jean-Sebastian measured a specific length from the base of the trunk, marking the spot where they would begin to section the tree. Each member of the group, except for a disgruntled Gabrielle who deemed herself too young for such labor, took turns wielding the axe, hacking away at the formidable trunk. Despite the enchantments on the axes, it was still a laborious process, but not a single complaint was uttered as they embraced the challenge. Laughter echoed through the grove, particularly from the men who jovially flexed their muscles to entertain the amused ladies.

Once the Yule log had been separated from the rest of the tree, they secured ropes around it and commenced the arduous task of dragging it back towards the chateau. "The house-elves will handle the rest," Jean-Sebastian explained as they trudged back, their breath visible in the crisp winter air. "They'll cut the wood into usable pieces for the fireplace, but they'll need time to dry properly."

Hours later, the Yule log was finally nestled in the fireplace, ready for its ceremonial role the following morning. The evening was spent in joyful celebration, with Christmas carols filling the air and the timeless tale of Christmas recounted from the Bible. They reveled in each other's company, indulging in the abundance of festive food and drink.

Before retiring for the night, they placed sabot carefully by the fireplace—a French tradition akin to hanging stockings in other cultures—anticipating the gifts that awaited them in the morning. Despite his anticipation for the day ahead, Harry found himself drifting into a peaceful slumber almost immediately, exhausted from the day's exertions yet content in the warmth of friendship and tradition.

The next morning, Harry was roused from his slumber by a burst of energy that bounded into his room and leapt onto his bed.

"Harry! Harry! Le Père Noël est venu!" the young girl exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Startled awake, Harry blinked in surprise before realizing the significance of her words. "Merry Christmas, Gabrielle!" he exclaimed, enveloping her in a warm hug, which she returned with equal fervor.

"Oui! Joyeux Noël, Harry!" Gabrielle replied with a grin.

Throwing on a robe, Harry allowed Gabrielle to tug him out of bed and into the hallway, where the rest of the household had gathered, no doubt drawn by the little girl's infectious enthusiasm. Indulgent smiles greeted them, followed by embraces and cheerful wishes of "Merry Christmas" exchanged among the group, before they made their way towards the living room, eager to discover what surprises awaited them.

It seemed that Father Christmas had indeed paid a visit, as the tree was now adorned with presents dangling from its branches, and the sabot that had been carefully placed in front of the tree were overflowing with a tempting array of fruit, nuts, and sweets. Harry's mouth watered at the sight of the festive bounty laid out before them.

Without hesitation, Gabrielle took charge, eagerly dividing the treats between herself, Hermione, Fleur, and Harry, being the youngest among them. Fleur smiled indulgently at her sister's enthusiasm, joining in the joy as she playfully sampled a few of the succulent nuts herself.

True to Jean-Sebastian's instructions from the day before, the first order of business was to light the Yule log in the fireplace. Overnight, a stack of smaller logs and kindling had been arranged around the massive log, awaiting only the strike of a match—Jean-Sebastian teasingly insisted on using matches rather than magic, to their amusement—to ignite the flames. Soon, the fire crackled to life, the smaller logs catching quickly and burning brightly. Though the Yule log took a bit longer to catch, its green wood sputtered and hissed as it finally succumbed to the flames.

The day that followed was nothing short of magical, filled with laughter, warmth, and the joy of companionship. Generous gifts from the Delacours, his friends, and especially Sirius, adorned the room, each one a token of love and friendship. Sirius, with his usual humor, explained that the abundance of presents was his way of making up for the missed Christmases Harry had endured. Among the brightly wrapped packages were practical items—a wand holster charmed to grow with Harry, sets of clothes and robes, some bearing the Potter family crest—and sentimental treasures, like an album brimming with photographs of Harry's parents and the Marauders during their school days. And then there were the prank items, meticulously crafted from Sirius' memories of his days as a Marauder, a gift that would surely delight Fred and George if they ever got wind of it. As Harry unwrapped each gift, he felt a swell of gratitude for the family and friends who had made this Christmas one to remember.

Among the myriad of gifts, Harry found himself presented with a treasure trove of tokens that spoke volumes of the thoughtfulness and care of his loved ones. From Hermione, an extensive collection of fantasy fiction, including the timeless Narnia series and the epic works of J.R.R. Tolkien, alongside lesser-known gems that promised adventures beyond imagination. Fleur's gift, a luxurious jacket crafted from dragon hide, spoke of both elegance and practicality, a perfect blend of her own grace and strength. The Grangers, perhaps inspired by a casual conversation with William, had bestowed upon Harry the complete set of James Bond movies, a gesture that reflected both their affection and a desire to share a piece of British culture with him.

In addition to these treasures, there were candies and nuts, trinkets, books, clothes, and an array of other thoughtful offerings, each one adding to the overwhelming sense of joy and gratitude Harry felt. For a boy who had known so little of Christmas during his formative years, the abundance of gifts was a dizzying delight.

For his own part, Harry had carefully selected presents for each member of his extended family. Matching gold lockets containing a photo of the three of them for Fleur and Hermione, a set of golf balls and accessories for William—a nod to their shared interest in the sport—and a day at a renowned French spa for Elizabeth, a gesture of appreciation for her kindness and hospitality. Unsure of Apolline's preferences, Harry had opted for the same gift, a decision that proved successful judging by the women's excited chatter as they made plans for their spa day. Gabrielle received a selection of sweets and Muggle toys, a small token of affection for the exuberant young girl.

As the exchange of gifts drew to a close, Jean-Sebastian drew Harry's attention to one remaining package, the significance of which was not lost on the young wizard.

"Though you may not be aware," Jean-Sebastian began, his tone carrying a hint of tradition and reverence, "it is customary for a wizard's family to present him with a pocket watch upon coming of age."

Harry listened in surprise as Jean-Sebastian explained the unexpected gift of the pocket watch, his heart swelling with gratitude for the thoughtfulness of his friends and their families. He accepted the small box with trembling hands, anticipation building as he lifted the lid to reveal the elegant wristwatch nestled within. The watch was a thing of beauty, its craftsmanship evident in every detail, far surpassing any timepiece Harry had ever owned.

"Thank you, Jean-Sebastian," Harry said, his voice thick with emotion. "This means a lot to me. I'll treasure it."

Jean-Sebastian waved off Harry's thanks with a smile. "It's the least we can do, Harry. You've become a part of our family, and we're grateful for all you've done."

Before Harry could respond, Jean-Sebastian's expression grew solemn, his gaze sweeping over the assembled company.

"Now, before we continue with our day, there's another tradition I'd like to observe," Jean-Sebastian announced, drawing everyone's attention. "It's been a longstanding tradition, especially in your homeland, for neighbors and close acquaintances to exchange vows for Christmas and the New Year. I'd like to extend this tradition to you, Harry, and let you know that no matter what lies ahead, the Delacour family will stand by the Potter family."

Moved by Jean-Sebastian's words, Harry felt a lump form in his throat. He glanced around at the faces of his friends and their families, overwhelmed by the depth of their support and loyalty.

"Thank you, Jean-Sebastian," Harry replied, his voice steady with determination. "I'm honored to call you all my family, and I promise to do everything in my power to uphold the bond between us."

With that, the group exchanged heartfelt vows, sealing their commitment to one another with words that echoed with the promise of unity and strength in the face of whatever challenges lay ahead. And as they embraced, Harry knew that he was surrounded by a love and support that would sustain him through whatever trials the future may hold.

Choked up with emotion, Harry expressed his heartfelt gratitude to Jean-Sebastian, setting off a wave of pledges of support from the gathered company. Hermione, his steadfast companion and confidante, offered her unwavering loyalty, while Fleur, his beloved betrothed, promised to stand by his side through thick and thin. Apolline, radiant in her beauty and grace, echoed their sentiments, as did Sirius, the irrepressible prankster whose loyalty knew no bounds. Even the Grangers, though perhaps unsure of the exact significance of the moment, wholeheartedly pledged their support.

Moved by their declarations, Harry struggled to find the words to respond amidst the surge of emotions coursing through him. "And I pledge to support all of you just as you've supported me," he managed to say, his voice thick with gratitude.

Jean-Sebastian suggested making a magical oath, but Harry shook his head firmly. "I believe in the power of our bonds, strengthened by love and affection," he asserted, gesturing to the entire group. "No magic is needed to keep our vows."

"Well said, Harry," Jean-Sebastian agreed, his smile reflecting pride and admiration. "Well said indeed."

The remainder of the day was filled with love, laughter, and an abundance of delicious food from the Delacour kitchens. The feast, reminiscent of a traditional English Christmas dinner, culminated in a decadent chocolate Yule log cake, known as a Bûche de Noël in French tradition.

In that moment, surrounded by those he held dear, Harry knew that this was not just the best Christmas, but one of the best days of his life. And as they celebrated together, he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the love and support that enveloped him, making him truly feel like a part of their family.

As the day unfolded, the warmth of companionship filled every corner of the chateau. Laughter echoed through the halls as stories were shared and memories were made. In the glow of flickering candlelight, Harry felt a sense of belonging unlike any he had known before.

Throughout the day, Harry found himself surrounded by love and affection, each moment reaffirming the bonds forged between them. Whether engaged in lively conversation, sharing hearty meals, or simply basking in the comfort of each other's presence, every interaction was imbued with a sense of unity and camaraderie.

As evening approached, they gathered once more around the fireplace, the crackling flames casting dancing shadows across the room. With hearts full and spirits lifted, they reflected on the day's blessings and shared their hopes for the future.

As the clock struck midnight, marking the end of Christmas Day, Harry found himself filled with a profound sense of gratitude. Though he had known hardship and loss, he now knew that he was not alone. In the embrace of his newfound family, he had found a home—a place where love and acceptance flourished, where bonds were forged that would withstand any trial.

As he bid goodnight to his loved ones and retired to his room, Harry carried with him a sense of peace and contentment unlike any he had known before. And as he drifted off to sleep, he whispered a silent thank you to the universe for bringing these extraordinary people into his life. For in their love and friendship, he had found his greatest treasure—a family to call his own.

Step into the world of PEVERELL_MAGIC on P.a.t.r.e.o.n! Experience where tales unfold, magic ignites, and the future takes shape.

For exclusive support and early access to upcoming chapters, join us at PEVERELL_MAGIC on P.a.t.r.e.o.n.

Note: Get the scoop a day before anyone else! Updates release on P.a.t.r.e.o.n before they hit FanFiction. Join us for free to read ahead!