Chapter Twelve - Christmas

The sun had long been streaming through the gaps in his curtains when Harry decided to get out of bed, unable to ignore his body any more. He peeked his head out of his room, and seeing that the bathroom was free, rushed across the landing and shut the door. After using the loo and taking a quick shower he dressed and made his way down the stairs in a slow plod. He rubbed his eyes as he approached the kitchen bar, where Sirius was sat.

Harry cleared his throat. "Morning."

"Good morning," Sirius turned with a smile, before gesturing to a cupboard door. "There's breakfast stuff in there. Have whatever you'd like."

Harry nodded, moving to find himself a bowl and spoon. His eyes glanced over to Sirius, who was slowly leafing through the Daily Prophet.

Cereal in hand, Harry sat down on the other side of the bar.

Harry flinched as Sirius' mug made contact with the marble counter-top. He looked up, but Sirius continued to leaf through.

After a moment, Sirius looked up at him and frowned. He stood, and Harry watched him warily.

Sirius walked over to the fridge and pulled it open. He turned his head to Harry. "Milk?"

Harry blinked, and looked down at his bowl of dry cereal. "Uh, yes, please."

Sirius gently closed the fridge door and placed the milk down beside Harry. Sirius stretched, scratched his back and shuffled back to his seat.

Harry continued to watch him, milk sitting untouched beside his bowl. As Sirius continued to read, and sip his drink, Harry slowly slouched into his chair. He let out a deep sigh.

"Sirius?"

Sirius looked at him over the rim of his mug, "Mmm?"

"About last night. I'm sorry."

Sirius set his mug of coffee down and leaned forward, his hands brushing against Harry's own. "Like I said last night, Harry, you're doing remarkably well dealing with all this. That includes times like last night."

Harry bowed his head. "You're not angry."

"No, Harry. I—"

"No," Harry cut him off, shaking his head. "I mean, I know that you're not angry. You didn't shout at me, or slam the cupboards, or...or make me feel guilty." Harry's eyes sparked with frustration as he stared down at the counter.

Sirius reached out and placed a hand on Harry's. "I'm not them, Harry."

As Harry kept his gaze lowered, Sirius's eyes hardened. A flash of anger sparked in his gaze, before his jaw squared and mouth set in a resolute line. He squeezed Harry's hands, dark eyes catching Harry's as he looked up.

"I need you to understand, Harry.…" Sirius's voice was as firm as his grip on Harry's hand. "I'm here for you. I'm on your side."

Harry swallowed, despite not having eaten anything in a while. "Thanks."

Harry jolted slightly, but Sirius held onto his hands. Harry looked away from the intensity of Sirius' gaze, staring at their clasped hands with wide eyes. Sirius waited patiently, and, when Harry tentatively looked back up, he gave him a small smile. Harry gave a shaky nod, and with a gently squeeze, Sirius released his hands.

Harry's mind raced, struggling for the right words, but they were stubbornly elusive. His gaze darted across the kitchen, before finally settling on Sirius, who was still watching him.

Harry jerkily got to his feet and moved around the bar. Sirius barely understood what was happening fast enough to open his arms, as Harry hugged him.

Harry quickly withdrew, a hint of colour creeping up his neck.

Sirius eyes shined as he looked at Harry with pride.

Harry cleared his throat, grabbing the milk and bowl across the counter. "What are we doing today?"

Sirius leant back in his chair. "Whatever you want. I assume you've got some homework?"

Harry nodded.

"Well its up to you whether you want to do any of that now, or leave it till the last minute like your old man and me."

Harry snickered.

Sirius stood up from his seat and folded the newspaper. "The grounds are safe for a wander, if you want to leave the house. Just let me know if you want to go anywhere further and we can Apparate."

Harry looked out the window at the great expanse of forest and rolling hills, his heart beating oddly fast with anticipation. Holidays had always meant being alone at Hogwarts while everyone else went back to their families, or worse, being stuck at the Dursleys'.

"I think I'll do some homework first," Harry said, spoon clattering in his now empty bowl.

Sirius closed his eyes with a solemn expression. "You're a better man than I. Feel free to use whatever room you'd like. I've got a few errands to run so call for Kreacher if you need anything."

Harry nodded, feeling slightly uneasy at the mention of Kreacher, but glad Sirius was keeping him around. Maybe, with the change in environment, Sirius would treat him a little better.

In stark contrast to his first term at Hogwarts, mornings brought the promise of a day unburdened by the looming dread of Voldemort, and Harry found himself drifting off to sleep easier than he had in a long time.

A comfortable routine emerged. He'd start with a bit of homework, sat outside, early morning sunlight filtering through the trees and casting long shadows across his parchment. His afternoons were spent wandering through the woods, sometimes alone, sometimes accompanied by Sirius, who seemed energised each time by the simple pleasure. In these moments Sirius told Harry stories of nighttime adventures with his dad in the forbidden forest, running around as an Animagus alongside Moony.

In the evenings, they'd sit together over whatever Kreacher had prepared for them, trading stories and memories of Hogwarts. The stories about his parents were Harry's favourite - his mother's disdain for his father turning into affection as his dad matured, his dad's pranks, like the time he charmed all of Snape's clothes to start smoking when in direct sunlight.

Even though there was a comforting routine to the days, Harry noticed a shift in Sirius. The man, who had once been so cagey and restless, seemed more grounded, more present. He didn't just come and go as he pleased, or brood in his armchair late into the night. He seemed to seek out Harry's company more, enjoy their shared laughter, and the shadows under his eyes began to fade.

One evening, after the remnants of their meal had been cleared away and they sat in comfortable silence, a thought that had been buzzing in the back of Harry's mind pushed its way out.

"Sirius," he began, hesitating slightly. "Have you talked to Professor Lupin yet?"

The unexpected question made Sirius look up. His eyes met Harry's, an unreadable expression crossing his features. "You're going to confuse Remus if you keep calling him 'Professor,' Harry."

Harry felt his cheeks heat slightly, and he cleared his throat. "Don't dodge the question."

Sirius gave a non-committal hum, leaning back in his chair. "I suppose I thought he would reach out first."

Harry swallowed, careful to keep his voice respectful, "He probably thought the same thing about you."

Sirius looked taken aback, his eyebrows raising before he gave a laugh. "Fair point, Harry. But, it's complicated, you know. The last time... well, it took Remus quite a while to stop feeling guilty, though it wasn't his fault. We... we suspected him, wrongly, and trusted the wrong person." Sirius's face hardened, his gaze distant. "One of many mistakes I made."

The rawness of his voice made Harry shifted uncomfortably, "Then why not write to him now? Explain?"

A heavy sigh escaped Sirius, his eyes intently on his open hands, as if looking for answers. "I'm not sure it's fair to drag him into all of this, Harry."

Harry felt a pang of understanding. He nodded silently, before meeting Sirius' eyes again.

Sirius gave a resigned smile. "You're right, though, Harry. It's overdue."

"Invite him here." Harry suggested. "I'd love to see Prof— Remus, again. Even if he doesn't know me yet."

"We don't need to do that. This holiday is for you—"

"No, I mean it," Harry cut him off. "I'd like him to come."

Sirius tapped the counter-top in thought. "It's too late to invite him for Christmas, now, and regardless, we've got plans."

"We do?" Harry asked, surprised.

Sirius smirked briefly and continued, "We could arrange something for New Year. The last full moon was yesterday, so he should have recovered by then."

A wide smile spread across Harry's face, his heart feeling lighter. "That would be great."

Christmas Day dawned bright and crisp. Harry stirred awake, glancing at the clock. Ten o'clock. His heart stuttered in his chest, a brief panic flaring up until he remembered – he wasn't at the Dursleys. No punishment would come for oversleeping. He also wasn't at the Weasley's, which meant there would still be food left. He rushed out of bed, making his way to the source of the faint music, which was drifting up from downstairs.

Sirius was in the kitchen, cheerfully humming along with the radio as he prepared breakfast. Harry rubbed his eyes, the domesticity of the scene catching him off guard.

"Sorry, I overslept," Harry mumbled, a yawn escaping him. "Hope I'm not too late."

Sirius ruffled Harry's hair, and Harry ducked away instinctively. Sirius grinned. "No problem, kiddo."

Sirius motioned to the fireplace, where a chaotic heap of presents lay. "Your friends sent quite a few," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "Maybe even one from a secret admirer."

Harry gave a disbelieving snort at Sirius' teasing, watching, with a smile, the old ghost who was prodding one of the larger presents. "Doubtful."

"I've been waiting all morning for this, Harry." His eyes gleamed with anticipation.

Harry hesitated for a moment, eyes widening. "Oh— I didn't wrap yours!"

Sirius playfully sighed. "I suppose I can overlook it."

Excusing himself, Harry ran back upstairs to his room. He pulled out a narrow box from his bedside table and placed it carefully in his pocket, his heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and anticipation.

Returning downstairs, he found Sirius seated near the pile of presents. He handed over the box, watching Sirius' face for his reaction.

Sirius carefully lifted the lid, placing it aside, and stared at the content inside, eyes wide. "It's my dad's wand," said Harry softly, although it seemed Sirius had already recognised it.

Sirius gently ran his fingers over the wand. "I'd like you to have it," Harry said. Sirius' hand shook slightly as he held the wand, his gaze lost somewhere between the polished wood and the memories it held. The fireplace flickered, and from the corner of Harry's eye he noticed the ethereal figure of the old French ghost, standing a little apart from them. It seemed to watch the scene with a air of quiet respect, eyes lost, perhaps, in its own memories. Despite the room holding only three souls, it felt like the room was filled by the very absence of those they wished could be there.

Sirius looked up, his expression unreadable. He shook his head, "No, Harry, I couldn't. It belongs to you. It's not right."

Harry shook his head, determined. "Mum's wand works better for me. This... this would just be gathering dust. But if you don't want it, I understand. I don't even know what you'd do with it. I just thought—"

Sirius cut him off with a hand. "I'm sorry, I was just taken aback." He took a breath. "I'm grateful, Harry. I'll accept it." Sirius glanced up, meeting Harry's gaze. "But know that it's always here if you want it back. It'll always be yours."

Harry found himself unable to meet Sirius' gaze, his heart heavy with a strange mix of relief and sadness.

"I'm just curious, Harry, why did you decide to start using your new wand?" Sirius asked after a moment.

Harry paused, wringing his hands. "I didn't like it initially, because it reminded me of Voldemort's. But after the troll…" Harry pulled the wand out of his pocket, and a frisson of energy sparked up his arm. He remembered the sensation vividly – that electrifying surge when he'd transfigured the club and banished it. The echo of that raw, formidable power. It was intoxicating and terrifying all at once. He looked at Sirius, a knot of unease forming in his stomach. "Is it wrong... to have liked how it felt? The power?"

"No, Harry. Not at all," said Sirius, his tone firm.

"I'm not just acting like- like him?"

Sirius gave Harry a measured look. "You can't compare yourself to him, Harry. Voldemort chose this. You have no choice. It would be mad of you not to seek power." Sirius watched Harry absorbing his words, and he stood up from his chair, clapping his hands. "I think it's time for more presents now, its getting late already and we've got an engagement this afternoon."

Harry looked up at Sirius, shaking his head to dispel the thoughts racing through his mind. He tried a wry smile. "Am I allowed to know what this engagement is, yet?"

Grinning, Sirius shooed him towards the gifts. "Nope. Now get to it, presents don't open themselves."

Harry returned the grin, moving toward the pile. Ripping into a package, his eyes widened at the familiar gold lettering of Nimbus 2000. "Thanks, Sirius."

"You're going to bankrupt me if you keep up this habit of breaking top of the line racing brooms," Sirius grumbled with a smile.

Harry rolled his eyes and picked up the next one.

After opening gifts from Hermione, Neville, and Mrs. Weasley, cocooned in the warm embrace of his new maroon jumper, Harry's eyes landed on a soft package. His heart skipped a beat as he read the familiar message, and when he revealed the cloak, Sirius paused.

"That's..."

"Yep. Dumbledore had it," Harry interjected, grinning. The cloak pooled in Sirius palm as Harry handed it over. Sirius cloaked it reverently over his shoulders, leaving a floating head with a childish grin.

Harry smiled to himself and turned to the remaining pile of gifts, which were much more uniform in shape and size, and all unlabelled. "Are the rest from you?" He looked up to Sirius.

Sirius nodded, slipping the cloak off and sitting back down in his chair, leaning forwards.

Harry picked up the first package and tore the wrapping.

"'Practical Defensive Magic and its use Against the Dark Arts.' Isn't that the series you got me last year for Christmas?"

"Thought you might not have had the chance to read them yet," Sirius responded, a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

"No, I- I didn't." He hadn't even opened past the first page, and he didn't even try to hide the guilt in his expression.

Harry picked up the next parcel. Another book. He looked at Sirius, curious. "Are they all books?"

Sirius nodded, a brow set in a firm line. "Some of them are quite advanced." He paused, noticing Harry's expression, before adding, "Remember our first night here, Harry? What you said?"

Harry tried to think what Sirius might be referring to. He'd said a lot that night.

"You made an important point, Harry, that I've been thinking on. I can't protect you from Voldemort. I can't even protect you from his followers on every occasion." He fixed Harry with a piercing, intense gaze. "But I realised that although I can't always protect you, I can at least teach you to protect yourself."

Surprise flickered across Harry's face. His gaze dropped to the pile of books, hundreds of pages that he'd disregarded. A pit of anxiety opened in his stomach.

"The books are just a start," Sirius stated, with a touch of excitement. "I've been making some inquiries this last week, hence our little outing this afternoon."

Alarm jolted Harry. "What are we doing?" Images of fighting dragons in Romania and hunting dark wizards flashed across his mind.

"We are going to a Christmas party," Sirius unveiled, hands clasped at his chest.

Harry blinked, taken aback. "A Christmas party? Why—"

"And you're going to be charming the head of the French department of Magical Games and Sports," Sirius interrupted, grinning at Harry's growing horror.

"You want me to lick the boots of some politician?" Harry voice dripped in disgust. "Why?"

Sirius smiled, looking pleased with himself. "Because, in addition to his role at the French ministry, the man is also the chair of the world's most prestigious duelling organisation. They host a duelling camp in the summer holidays for the rich and prodigious. My brother Regulus attended as a child. Became a much better duellist than I'll ever be."

Harry gaped at Sirius. "That's— that's—"

"Genius? Inspired?" Sirius grinned.

Harry frowned. "Can't I just apply normally?"

Sirius shook his head. "It's by invitation only. The Potter family was never considered pure or affluent enough."

Harry sank into his chair. "So I have to make some sort of impression at this party."

"Precisely. Make some conversation, laugh at some bad jokes, mention your new house in France. Cast a Patronus if you need to. That won't fail to get his attention."

Harry sighed. "I despise stuff like this."

"Count yourself lucky you never had Slughorn as your potions master," Sirius muttered. "He loved hosting these smarmy gatherings. He would have adored you."

Harry grimaced. "No thanks."

"Grab something to eat before you get changed, you can open the rest of your presents later. I've got some formal robes set out for you in my room."

With a groan, Harry rose from his chair. He was glad Sirius was taking what he'd said seriously, but a party? The idea of fighting dragons in Romania sounded more appealing now. Looking down at the books that Sirius had gifted him, he considered the truth of his words. Maybe it was time he started taking his studies seriously. Sirius was right. Harry had to seek power and learn to protect himself, because in the end, no one else could.