Chapter Twelve

One mid-December morning, Bart looked outside, only to discover that Hogwarts had been inundated in snow. Images of Springfield winters gone by immediately flooded through his mind, as he remembered how snowballs speared through the air and snowmen made their presence felt.

Such whimsical thoughts provided needed maintenance of morale, for the last month was most trying. Sure, the school had been thoroughly distracted by his audacious attack on three common rooms, with the usually chipper Weasley twins seeming particularly perturbed by angry schoolmates querulously asking them why they were still attending Hogwarts.

However, after Bart confessed to Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Snape had taken to literally breathing down Bart's neck whenever possible, making his Potions class most uncomfortable.

Goddamn, Bart thought during one lesson, he's acting like some fangirl. Maybe I should ask him if he wants my autograph or something. Geez.

The cloaked man made no threats; his actions spoke a thousand words. These included making Bart clean cauldrons with a dirty old toothbrush, rather than a regular brush. As Bart did so, he contemplated his misfortune. And just how many times had he cleaned these cauldrons, since he had set foot inside the older man's figurative Batcave? Probably enough to give him PTSD, he thought as he wearily ventured back to his dormitory one evening.

The rapidly chilling air had not improved the young lad's mood one iota, nor did Draco's jibes. At times Bart wondered whether the blond was an empath, such was his uncanny ability to exploit somebody's low mood with a jagged comment.

"Hey Simpson, looking forward to returning to your hovel over Christmas?" enquired the annoying blond in the dormitory.

"At least my family can afford a hovel, Drain-o", snapped Bart.

"Come to my manor and say that, Simpson. Oh wait, Mudbloods aren't allowed in my manor!" responded Draco, as his goons guffawed.

"That's good. It probably smells like shit, just like you", Bart replied, melodramatically waving his hand in front of his nose.

Draco made to curse Bart in his bed, but recalling the last time he tried to, merely dressed before offering Bart a piercing glare as he left, which Bart returned with a flirtatious wave.

However, Draco didn't merely insult Bart. For example, when Harry seemed particularly down during one Potions lesson, Draco commented on how Harry was obviously unwanted at home due to having elected to stay over Christmas. Unlike Bart, Harry refrained from comment.

Speaking of the bespectacled boy, he had earlier slipped Bart a note, which the latter boy surreptitiously read after disillusioning and silencing himself.

Bart,

Hagrid told us that the three-headed dog's name is named Fluffy, and that it's guarding something. Probably that package from Vault 713 at Gringotts. Whatever it's guarding also involves someone called Nicolas Flamel. I guess you haven't heard of him? If you haven't, maybe you can help us find out over Christmas if you're staying?

Your friend,

Harry

After reading the note, Bart pocketed it and revealed himself before helping Neville finish their potion. After his head of house stalked off, though not before damning them with faint praise about their potion being "top of the median", Bart dashed to his desk and ripped out two pieces of parchment before casting the Protean charm on them. He could now confidently cast the charm, but such was not always thus.

Indeed, during the last month his attempts to cast the charm frequently went awry. For example, he wrote a message saying "My name is Bart" - it came up as "I eat lotsa boogers". Another came up as "Ivana Tinkle Onia". However, after perfecting the incantation and experimenting with the angle at which he wrote, he sent altogether more accurate messages.

He wandlessly transfigured a message on one parchment piece and slipped the other into Harry's hand. After class ended, Harry read its contents.

Hey Harry,

Thanks for the message.

Sorry, I'm not staying over Christmas.

I don't know who this Flaming dude is, but I can try and find out.

Write on this if you want to tell me something.

Bart

Harry laughed at Bart's malapropism, but stopped after reading the last paragraph.

Bart must be having me on! Did he really bewitch this piece of parchment to send messages to another parchment? Let's find out… he thought as he wrote a redundant one-liner.

"Hi Bart, my name is Harry."

"Wow, stop the presses", came Bart's pithy remark, to which Harry chuckled.

Ok, this I have to tell the others about.

Sure enough, Harry spilled the beans to Ron and Hermione about Bart's invention.

Ron responded with his typical paranoia. "Harry, the guy's a snake. How do we know he simply won't show his fellow snakes what you've written? Like Malfoy?"

Upon hearing this, Harry gave Ron a stare that could freeze the Sahara Desert. "The same Malfoy who Bart duelled with? Also, didn't you say that Bart wasn't all bad?"

Ron hesitated but replied, "Yeah, I diiiiid…but that was only because he was fighting Malfoy. The bloke's still a Slytherin."

Hermione then leapt to Harry's defence, as she logically pointed out, "Ron, just because Bart's a Slytherin doesn't mean that he's working with other Slytherins to undermine us. I actually don't see him associate much with the other first-year Slytherins."

Ron looked affronted, but then quickly narrowed his eyes and spoke with a voice that brooked both contempt and envy.

"Of course you'd say that. I mean, you often act like a Slytherin yourself. Acting all ambitious, driven and cunning all the time, what with your perfect grades. How do we know that you didn't stage that whole damsel-in-distress act in the dungeons, huh? How do we know that you didn't lure that troll to the dungeons so we would have a reason to come and save you?"

Hermione and Harry couldn't believe their ears when they heard Ron say that. It was like all that two of his best friends had experienced together counted for nought in Ron's eyes. Indeed, it was like he had never stopped despising her. After his momentary shock at Ron's outburst wore off, Harry's stare grew even more murderous. If looks could kill, Ron would be in his last, agonising death throes right now.

"You're going to apologise to Hermione right now, Ron", Harry ordered, with a cold, icy voice.

Unfortunately, Harry's order caused Ron's temper to flare up into the proverbial ceiling.

"You know what? I don't think I will. Not unless you stop talking to that snake. He'll betray us all", Ron replied with conviction, his prejudice towards Slytherins emerging with all its ugly might.

"No, we'll need his help - " Harry began, but before he could complete his sentence, Ron collected his possessions and stormed off.

Harry stared at Ron's retreating figure, gobsmacked at just how quickly things between them had gone south. Honestly, the way that things were going, what with Gryffindor's recent Quidditch defeat to their arch-rivals, their death-defying encounters, the mountain of homework he had and the trio's lack of progress discovering whom Nicolas Flamel was, Harry felt that before long, he would be freezing his buttocks off in Antarctica.

Harry turned back to his best female friend, only to discover that her face was about to become like a fountain of tears. Harry wondered what he should do. His reptilian relatives had never afforded him anything remotely resembling reassurance, so how could he? Nonetheless, the noble knight within beckoned him to at least try.

He walked over to her side of the table and put his hand on her shoulder as she started crying in earnest before reassuring her in his own awkward way, trying to hide his sense of betrayal and disappointment with his soothing words.

"Hermione, we don't really need Ron. If Ron doesn't want to be around us, then he's not worth having as a friend. Hopefully he'll come around, but if he doesn't that's his loss. We still have each other. Bart will still help us", Harry reassured her as she suddenly hugged him, holding him as if he was the last thing on Earth.

Madam Pince had come over to tell them off, but after seeing Hermione's distressed state and meeting Harry's pleading eyes, she nodded her head and mouthed "All right, Potter", in a rare display of empathy and understanding. She then walked away, leaving him to contemplate what they should do next.

Over dinner, Gemma and Bart were engaging in discussion. They had agreed that Bart would stay at Farley Manor for most of the Christmas break, but that Bart would spend the first day with his family before the Farleys came to collect him.

Gemma was less than thrilled to discover that Bart had earlier agreed Professor Dumbledore that the wizened mage would initially apparate Bart to and from his house, for she wanted to spend as much time with Bart as possible. But it was no big deal, because the wizened mage didn't know that Bart would be spending most of the break with the Farleys, so he couldn't interfere with her plans for the young prodigy.

Speaking of the Farleys, Gemma was busy laying down some ground rules for when Bart visited them.

"Now Bart, pure-bloods in Britain are not like Muggleborns in America. We have different traditions. You are to address my father as 'sir' and my mother as 'madam' unless they give you permission to do otherwise. You are to kiss my mother's hand when she offers it. Also - "

"Don't swear and don't use the words 'cool', 'dude', 'awesome', 'no problemo', and 'man', I get it", Bart recited in a bored drone.

Gemma looked surprised that Bart correctly guessed her next words. Worried that she would press him further, Bart changed the subject.

"Hey Gemma, do you know who Nicolas Flamel is?"

Gemma gave him a quizzical expression before responding, "Hmmm…I'm sure I've heard that name from somewhere, but I'm not exactly sure. Maybe my father will know. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, just that Hagrid mentioned his name and so I was curious. I just want to know more about the wizarding world", Bart lied.

Gemma scoffed. "Oh, I wouldn't take that big oaf too seriously. Half the time he's drunk, or so I've heard from other pure-bloods. But I'll ask anyway."

Bart smiled gratefully; capitalising on his good mood, Gemma raised a thornier subject.

"Bart – I'm not introducing you as Bart Simpson. I'm introducing you as Bart Steward."

Bart narrowed his eyes suspiciously upon hearing that. "Why?"

Gemma sighed. "Well…it's just that I've never been friends with a Muggleborn before. As I told you earlier, associating with Muggleborns isn't usually socially acceptable in a house like Slytherin. My parents were both from Slytherin, so while I obviously have nothing against Muggleborns, I'm not sure how they would deal with me being friends with one.

Steward is the name of an old pureblood family. They may or may not be extinct, but no English pure-blood family would know."

Bart frowned but nonetheless understood Gemma's pragmatism and nodded.

Gemma smiled. Of course, she was not completely honest about why she wanted him to pose as a Steward, but why bother being so when a few artful omissions could get your message across?

Departure day finally came, much to Bart's relief. Naturally, Draco couldn't resist taunting Bart one last time while they were in the dormitory.

"Enjoy going back to your filthy hovel, Simpson!" the blond crowed.

"Dude, the further away I am from you, the better", Bart briskly replied as he set off for the headmaster's office. As he did so, he passed Daphne, Tracey and Theo, who subtly nodded at him as he passed.

Before he knew it, he found himself, with Balthazar in his cage, walking through a hitherto unknown town with said headmaster. Bart was struck by how picturesque it looked, with its perfectly aligned set of lovingly-crafted wooden cottages and shops, replete with snowy rooftops.

"What is this place?" enquired Bart.

"This town, young Bart, is called Hogsmeade." As Bart sniggered at the name 'Hogsmeade', the older wizard continued. "It's the only all-wizarding settlement in Britain - "

"Santa doesn't live here, does he?" jokingly asked Bart, chuckling as he reminisced about the time when he exposed Homer's Santa disguise in the mall.

Professor Dumbledore chortled at this. "Not that I know of, young Bart, but maybe he does appear at around this time", the man responded with typical ambiguity, eyes amusedly twinkling all the while. He then continued his explanation.

"You'll be allowed to visit from third year onwards, provided that you have a signed permission slip. When you visit, you may be particularly interested in Zonko's Joke Shop", to which Bart erupted in a grin most devious, "and Honeydukes, which contains some of the finest chocolates and sweets around. Speaking of chocolates…"

The wizened headmaster gave him a package of Honeydukes Best Chocolate. "I do trust that you will enjoy this package of chocolates. Truly, I've never tasted such a sumptuous variety in my many years on this mortal coil."

Bart's face erupted in joy for the briefest of moments, before reverting back to his typically cool, laid-back countenance. He then began to feel a hot surge of guilt for not getting the headmaster anything, but tried to assuage it by responding with the most genuine display of humility he had shown for the longest time. "Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. You didn't have to do this."

"The pleasure is all mine, young Bart. By no means should you feel the need to reciprocate. Gifts are meant to be freely given," the headmaster replied indulgently.

In truth, much like when he had given Bart some of his own money before the bratty boy entered Hogwarts, the headmaster had gifted Bart the chocolates in order to place himself in Bart's figurative good graces, thus making it easier to monitor the troubled young fellow. The headmaster was most happy that this ploy appeared to be working like a charm.

It was with that happy thought that he apparated Bart and Balthazar back to the young lad's residence, bade him farewell and told him he would be back for him when the break ended, before promptly leaving.

When he stumbled inside, he was surprised to find only Homer there.

"Hey Homer, where are Mum and Lisa?" Bart asked.

"Eh, Lisa's taken your mother to protest the logging of some forest. They won't be back for a few days."

Bart sniggered. "Ah Lisa. When will she ever learn?" he rhetorically asked, before laughing and exchanging high-fives with his father.

"So how was pig-pimples?"

"Hogwarts."

"Whatever."

"It was pretty cool. We get to transform staff, plus someone blew up three of the common rooms. So I read that you guys got rid of that Incest Spuckler dude."

"Yeah, we palmed him off onto Ned Flanders. Him and his Christian virtue", Homer sneered, as they both laughed again.

"Well, hopefully he'll be too busy to try and exorcise my 'demon'. Anyway, I heard you drunkenly stumbled upon a drug smuggling ring which was operating out of the ladies room in Moe's."

"Yeah, I'm not sure if your mother told you the full story, but I accidentally stumbled into the room and smashed my head on the wall. When I did, that part of the wall crumbled and revealed a hidden compartment with lots of packages with white stuff. I took one home and Lisa saw it. She told me that it was cocaine. I wanted to try and sell it but she told me to tell the FBI."

"The Female Breast Inspectors? Did you become one yourself?"

Homer laughed. "I wish! Anyway, they recovered the rest of the drugs."

"Didn't you tell me that Moe was arrested and then released without charge because he didn't know about the drugs and had never done cocaine?"

"Yeah. By the way, they gave me some money. Your mother and Lisa took some before I could spend it."

"I'm guessing you spent yours on the window bars?"

"And armoured doors – you can't be too careful these days", Homer noted.

"That's surprisingly well thought-out for you."

"Thanks, son", Homer replied, missing the back-handed compliment. "Your mother stored your share of the money somewhere. We were going to give it to you when you came back, but…"

"Lisa, I know", Bart groaned. Nonetheless, he was very relieved that Homer didn't just steal Bart's share. Clearly he had learnt from the last time he did that.

With that happy discovery in mind, Bart ate a harmonious steak dinner with his father. Bart was heartened that, despite his myriad faults, the Simpson patriarch could still do right by his children.

Less than 24 hours later, a teenage girl and an older man apparated in front of Bart's house. Gemma had been worried that the townspeople would try and attack them with so-called 'shotguns' if they wore wizarding robes, so they were wearing what they thought was Muggle attire. Gemma's was similar to that she wore on her train, with her tight green jumper and dark denims accentuating her already reasonably voluptuous figure. However, her bespectacled, lanky father, Jake, resembled a 1960s college professor. Not only did he have his dark brown hair parted, but he also covered his collared shirt and tie with a tweed jacket.

Both Farleys distastefully took in their surroundings, with Jake in particular looking as if he had just ventured inside a Brazilian favela.

"Merlin's beard, Gemma. How is it possible that a Steward can live in this…slum?"

"He's living with stepparents by the name of Simpson", Gemma lied.

"Stepparents?"

"From what I understand, they are Muggle parents who aren't related to the children they live with", Gemma explained, having researched this topic while constructing her little ruse.

"Muggles have some most unusual customs, clearly", Jake mused.

Gemma simply nodded as they advanced towards Bart's house, as they both took in the various toys and tools strewn across the yard.

"Do Muggles also not have house elves? This house is a dilapidated shack", Jake stated.

Gemma's lips creased into a grimace. She knew full well how depressing Bart's life in this town was, but she didn't realise that he was living in such filthy conditions. Maybe one day with his family was one day too many.

"Father, let me handle this", Gemma insisted. After Jake nodded, Gemma knocking on the door with all the tentativeness of somebody defusing a bomb.

However, despite expecting the very worst, not even in her nastiest nightmares could she have imagined the sight that awaited her when the door opened - a grossly overweight, balding man who was shamelessly showing off all his blubber. And worst of all…

Merlin's beard, is he wearing UNDERPANTS ON HIS HEAD? a horrified Gemma thought. Forget one day; one hour with this man was obviously too many for Bart to endure, family or no. Jake was similarly slack-jawed at the sight.

What an absolute barbarian, he thought, but nonetheless spoke up on behalf of his dumbstruck daughter.

"Greetings, good sir, we've come to collect Bart."

At this, Homer's expression lightened. "Oh you guys must be the Fart-leys! Just hold on, Bart will be right down."

"Did…did he just call us the Fart-leys?" Jake asked in shock.

"No father, I'm sure you misheard", Gemma lied, trying to hide her own anger and shock.

In a jiffy, Bart was standing in front of Gemma, with hair slicked back as he was immaculately dressed in his school robes, with his school bag hoisted behind him. For good measure, Balthazar was perched on his shoulder.

"Hello Gemma. How lovely to see you again", Bart unctuously began.

Gemma gave him one of her trademark dazzling smiles before replying, "You too, Bart. Father, meet Bartholomew Steward. Bart, meet my father, Jacob."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir. Please call me Bart", the boy said as he shook hands with the older man, straining to be polite.

"The pleasure is all mine, Bart. You may call me Jake. It is good to see that you are well-groomed." Despite your clearly unfortunate upbringing.

"Thank you, Jake. You look well yourself." For someone starring in The Graduate.

"Thank you. Now let us depart this place". Den of misery that it is.

Before Bart knew it, he was a world away from 742 Evergreen Terrace and in front of wrought-iron gates leading into an apparent mansion. The road to the mansion was seemingly constructed from the finest thin, white bricks.

Wow! This is like Mr. Burns' place! Bart thought, as he absorbed his lavish surroundings. The mansion itself looked most stately indeed, with a brick exterior, large rounded windows, oaken doors, and an immaculate terracotta-tiled roof, topped off with a superlative white finish. At each side of the steps leading up to the main door stood one statue of a stone guard. The garden looked inimitably immaculate, with a pretty tiered water fountain in the middle.

To Bart's astonishment, the iron then contorted into a face.

"Welcome back, Master Farley. Please step inside with your guests."

As Jake led Gemma and Bart into the mansion, Bart saw a blue-white pied peacock strutting about in the distance.

Wow, they even keep a peacock as a pet! This is awesome!

When Jake reached the door, it also contorted into a face and offered a similar greeting to the gate, before letting them all inside.

They then stepped into a hallway which was decorated with highly expensive woven axminster carpet. The walls were adorned with moving portraits, whom Bart assumed were past relatives of renown. The ceiling hung rather low and was painted with a neat wooden furnish.

"This place is a-I mean, terrific", exulted Bart as Gemma warningly glared at him.

"Yes, I was hoping that you would like our humble little abode", Jake replied as a woman came into the room, dressed in green acromantula silk robes.

This woman was unmistakeably Gemma's mother, with her statuesque stature, high cheekbones, wavy hair and dark brown eyes that betrayed so much intensity. The only differences were that she was a touch shorter, had a slightly longer nose and had hair a shade lighter.

"Ah, so this must be the young Steward lad. I am Isabella Farley, but you may call me Bella. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance", she said in an aristocratic accent before extending a delicate, slender, manicured hand out.

Bart took her hand and kissed it, touching as little of her hand as possible in case she had cooties. "It is a pleasure to meet you too ma-I mean, madam."

Bella smiled warmly. "Well, it seems that you are well versed in the art of manners", she replied, deliberately ignoring his slip. It was clear that the boy had a troubled upbringing after all, from what Gemma wrote – she could not expect perfection from him.

Suddenly she called out, "Sleazy!"

A house-elf suddenly appeared. His ears were alert, his eyes were full of mischief and his expression was a suitably sleazy smirk. Not surprisingly, Bart found him very creepy.

"Hey mistress Bella baby, what's the word?" the elf purred – or well, tried to purr, but his squeaky voice just made him sound hilarious. Bart was already close to wetting his pants with laughter.

Bella herself tried not to laugh. "Sleazy, please take our guest's possessions up to his room."

"And maybe later Sleazy can do something special for his mistress?" Sleazy asked as he raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"Yeah, leave."

"OK mistress Bella baby. Sleazy will be getting favours outside", he finished with a wink, before taking Bart's possessions and disappearing.

"Ummm…what did he mean by favours?" Bart rhetorically asked.

Gemma shivered in revulsion. "You don't want to know."

Some days later, Gemma and Bart were busy practising spells in the manor's duelling room. By this time, Bart had finally mastered the Ventus and Relashio jinxes, both verbally and non-verbally, but had difficulty landing the basic Stupefy.

"Gemma, why do you keep a house elf that's so…well, sleazy? Wouldn't that turn guests off?"

"No, because as I explained earlier, pure-blood wizards often see house elves as beasts of burden and so don't take them seriously. If anything, Sleazy amuses them. However, mother makes sure that he gets his…favours…outside instead of hitting on any female guests.

Speaking of which, I wanted to ask you some questions."

"Shoot."

"What's your favourite band?"

"I don't know. Maybe J. Geils Band, Sonic Youth, The Smashing Pumpkins, or Spinal Tap. And you?"

Must be Muggle bands, she thought to herself before responding, "The Weird Sisters. My parents like Celestina Warbeck as well."

Celestina Warbeck? I'm sure that Ollie-dude mentioned her, Bart thought before Gemma shook him out of his thoughts.

"So…what's your favourite play?"

"I'm not really into plays. I prefer movies."

"Movies?"

"Yeah. They're kind of like…moving pictures that go for more than 90 minutes. My favourites are Jaws and the first three Star Wars movies."

"I see. OK, just one more question."

"Ask away", Bart replied in relaxation.

"Tell me Bart…did you really think that I wouldn't figure out that you were involved in blowing up those common rooms?"

Bart's blood instantly ran cold as his eyes widened.

She knew.

Before he could even move, he was lying on the floor, as rigid as a board, with Gemma standing over him.

She looked as frightening as ever; her teeth were bared, her eyes were ablaze with fury and her wand was pointed straight – at – him.

This is going to suck.

"Bart, you had more reason than anyone to frame the Gryffindors and draw attention away from yourself. Rumour was that one of them turned you into a troll, plus you were the subject of vicious rumours about what went on with the troll.

I also noticed how nervous you became when I told you that the Weasley twins were apparently getting expelled, and how quickly you walked out of the Great Hall, as if you were in a hurry to go somewhere. Then by the next week, the Weasley twins were still at the school. It is pretty unusual for expelled students to be attending the school, isn't it?

I put two and two together and realised that you went to tell a teacher or maybe the headmaster that they were innocent. But you could only have known if you were involved yourself.

Now, I did warn you that if you attacked a teacher again, I would have to resort to harsher measures to make my words of warning about you risking expulsion sink in. But this is just as bad. So, I'm going to now use those harsher measures.

Oh crap, Bart thought before Gemma cast a silencing spell on him and uttered "Gaseous!"

Instantly, the boy felt as if his insides were ablaze, such was the pain he felt. This must have been the searing gas pain spell Gemma alluded to.

Gemma's expression held a tinge of sympathy for the boy, but otherwise she seemed grimly determined to mete out her punishment.

She then applied various counter-spells on him before putting her face close to his.

"Now you listen to me, Bart. You will not do that again. Do I make myself clear?" Gemma hissed, her tone conveying a deliberate menace.

Bart could do nothing but nod fearfully.

Finally, Christmas Day arrived. At dinnertime, Bart and the Farleys sat together and enjoyed a sumptuous roast turkey meal, replete with carrots, peas and potatoes.

Man, for an elf that likes getting lots of some on the side, Sleazy's a pretty damn good cook, Bart thought before reflecting on the day's earlier events.

That morning, they had all gathered by the Farley tree. To Bart's surprise, they didn't call it a Christmas tree, but a Yule tree, since the name Christmas reminded them of Christians who had violently murdered a couple of their ancestors. This tree made the Simpson one look like the cheap, sorry, shoddy little creation that it was, being almost as tall as the ceiling and decorated with so many shiny baubles that Bart thought that staring at it would render him forever blind.

They had then exchanged gifts. Jake firstly provided Bart with a wand holster, a gift so practical that obviously most wizards would never even contemplate buying one. Bella then provided him with a black acromantula silk robe, of which Bart was initially not terribly enthused. However, he changed his mind after feeling the material.

"Wow! This feels really nice! Thanks, Bella!" Bart gushed, provoking the older lady into cracking a rare smile.

However, the most surprising gift was Gemma's. When he unwrapped it, he was surprised to find a vinyl copy of Goo by Sonic Youth.

Bart felt gratitude burst out of his heart and soon enough, his mouth.

"Thank you, Gemma. I'll listen to this lots."

Gemma gave him a stunning smile. "I know you will."

"Now I have a little something for you four", Bart said as he gave Bella, Jake and Gemma one package of Honeydukes Best Chocolate. After wheedling information about the Geminio curse out of Jake, including how to cast the charm, it had taken Bart countless hours of painful work to convert his copy into three others. Mishaps he had endured included having melted copies, exploded copies and even copies with chocolates shaped like condoms. However, his perseverance paid off and the proof was in the reactions of the Farleys.

"Bart…you didn't have to get us anything", Jake replied. Because we thought that you couldn't afford to.

"It's alright", Bart replied with feigned bashfulness, hoping for – and getting – a positive reaction, as Gemma hugged him and kissed him on the cheek.

Wow. I wasn't expecting that, Bart thought, as he became bashful for real, blushing like a bride. Clearly though, Gemma and Bart had just broken new ground in their relationship, which pleased the ever-infatuated young mage.

After the formalities of handing over presents were dispensed with, Bart and Gemma had listened to Kool Thing using a rune-powered vinyl player in her room, which compared to Bart's room in La Casa de Los Simpsons positively exuded luxury. Epitomising this luxury was a four-poster bed placed smack bang in the centre, with green acromantula silk sheets and blankets. However, the room's luxuriousness couldn't distract from the fact that Gemma clearly didn't like the song.

"This song is so loud, so abrasive."

"That's the point, Gemma", Bart drolly replied.

"Also, what's the woman prattling on about in the middle? Male white corporate oppression? What's that meant to mean?"

"Oh, that's just trash."

"Yes. Total trash. Let me show you what I like listening to." With that, she put on a Weird Sisters record.

Bart was quite unprepared for what followed. The song was played at an appropriately brisk tempo, and took on an orthodox verse-chorus form, but it was otherwise quite different from the rock music that he, or even his father, listened to.

For example, he was used to the guitar dominating the music, but here it was just a side dish in a proverbial smorgasbord of instruments. He heard bagpipes, a cello and even a lute solo. Additionally, the time signature lacked orthodoxy due to the distinct classical influences within the song, not to mention the need to accommodate every instrument.

"Wow. That was weird", Bart uttered after the song concluded.

"Very", Gemma contentedly replied.

Later that night, Bart took out his piece of enchanted parchment and sent a message to Harry. Their initial exchanges of pleasantries weren't out of the ordinary, but some of the gifts that Harry received certainly were.

"I got a wooden flute from Hagrid", wrote Harry.

"That's weird."

"Quite. My aunt and uncle, who I live with by the way, also gave me 50 pence."

Dear god, they make Homer look like an attentive, caring parent. "That's pathetic."

"For them, it's friendly."

Bart sat there momentarily, but before he could respond, Harry wrote again.

"I received an invisibility cloak from someone. I don't know who."

"An invisibility cloak? That sounds pretty awesome. Are you going to use it to sneak around at night-time?"

"Certainly." At this Bart chuckled, but Harry wrote again. "By the way, Ron and I aren't talking to each other at the moment. We…had a big fight and some nasty things were said."

Feeling a strong sense of foreboding, Bart asked, "About what?"

"You."

Bart wasn't too surprised to hear this. Ever since the boat journey, Ron had at best treated him with suspicion. He tried to reassure Harry.

"Maybe he'll come around. If he doesn't, he's not worth worrying about."

"Yeah, I know", Harry wrote, but Bart felt that he was trying to convince himself of his words.

"You find anything about Nicolas Flamel?"

"No. You?"

"Nah. I'll tell you if I do."

"OK. Merry Christmas."

"You too, dude."

Finally, the day before Bart was to return to his house, Gemma came into his room, which while being a guest room was scarcely less luxurious than her own, with a spring in her step. After doing so, she gave Bart the news he was waiting to hear.

"Bart. Father has asked around and has discovered who Nicolas Flamel is through one of his older potioneers."

Bart shot bolt upright and waited with anticipation. "Who?"

"He's an alchemist who once partnered with Dumbledore. Apparently, though his alchemy work, he created the Philosopher's Stone, which turns metal into gold, and produces the Elixir of Life, which makes the drinker immortal. So basically Flamel and his wife are centuries old. I hope that helps."

After she left Bart just sat there, slack-jawed.

Immortality? Metal into gold? I'm going to find this Philosopher's Stone and use it! Hold on…that dog was guarding a package. The Stone must be inside! But should I use Harry to get to it?

Bart hesitated momentarily. He felt a little bad about taking advantage of his friendship with Harry like that– but that stone was just too awesome to pass up! Screw it, he was getting it even if he had to use Harry to do so.

He quickly whipped out his parchment and informed Harry of what he knew about the Philosopher's Stone. When he did, Harry made a startling admission.

"To be honest Bart, I don't know what I would do with the Philosopher's Stone. I'm not interested in being immortal, and I have enough money already."

This answer surprised Bart.

What kind of person would pass up making gold out of metal, or being immortal? Never mind, if he doesn't want it, I'll take it, Bart thought evilly. Harry then wrote something else.

"You know, I found this mirror that shows your deepest desire. Do you what I apparently want more than anything else?"

"What?"

"My family."

Bart found that poignant. He felt bitter about his family at times, particularly his father and his occasional abusiveness. However, he couldn't imagine life without them, nor could he imagine relatives treating him with such contempt that a 50 pence present would be considered friendly. Was it really right for him to use Harry to steal the Philosopher's Stone?

After a moment, he reasoned that yes, yes it was. But he couldn't let Harry know that – yet.

"Well, you'll always have me as a friend", replied Bart, lost as to what else he could say.

"Thank you Bart."

Bart lay back contentedly. Spending Christmas with a rich family in a luxurious house, eating a delicious meal, receiving good presents, having a very attractive girl sleeping near him, and finding out that gold and immortality were within his grasp? Yes indeed, for Bart this was truly the best Christmas break ever.

Author's Notes for Chapter Twelve

Apologies again; I've been busy lately.

Homer stole Bart's money in 'Barting Over'.

RE Sonic Youth/The Smashing Pumpkins, see 'Homerpalooza'. RE J. Geils Band, see 'The Boys of Bummer' (awful episode). RE Spinal Tap, see 'The Otto Show'.

Although it makes her look more like an all-knowing Mary Sue, it is more realistic for Gemma to figure out that Bart was behind the attacks, rather than Hermione, simply because Gemma's older and therefore has more developed powers of perception.

bauers374: 1) I didn't think the Statute of Secrecy really applied to pre-school age kids because they don't have full control over their magic, hence why Tom Riddle wasn't pinged, 2) Slytherin's probably the most suitable house for Bart, 3) Loser's Lurch is a play on Loser's Lurgy, 4) thanks for the comments!