Harry Potter and the Sect of the Serpent

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: A Very Weasley Christmas

Harry woke the next morning feeling warm and comfortable. He lay for a while staring off into the darkness and letting his mind wander, trying to recall the dreams that were stubbornly eluding him. After a few moments, he remembered that it was Christmas morning, and that there would be a pile of presents waiting for him at the foot of his bed. He lay in bed for another minute, just thinking, and smiled slightly wondering what he would get from Ron and Hermione, anticipating the lumpy package with a new jumper in it from Mrs. Weasley, the requisite tin of treacle fudge from Hagrid, maybe even a letter from Remus....

He heard a yawn from across the room and remembered with a little jolt that Hermione was there. Parting his bed curtains slightly, he fished around for his glasses, and then poked his head out. She was sitting on the edge of Ron's bed, rubbing her eyes. Harry had to quickly stifle a laugh as he stared at the ridiculous bird's nest her hair had become.

"Morning," he said, when he had recovered enough to speak.

"I was wondering if you were up," she said sleepily. "Look. McGonagall's sent us breakfast." She pointed to the middle of the room where an ancient looking tea trolley was sitting near the stove. Both of its shelves were heavily laden with breakfast goodies like warm sticky buns, chocolate croissants, bacon and toast, and a steaming silver tea service.

Harry climbed out of bed to go and examine the bounty, grabbing a bun and taking a huge bite out of it as he lifted the covers off of various plates and dishes.

"What do you want?" he asked, turning to look at Hermione, but she was staring at him in wide eyed horror.

"She knows," Hermione whispered, eyes darting furtively around the room.

"Who knows what now?" Harry asked, still munching.

"McGonagall!" Hermione hissed. "If she sent breakfast for two people to your room, then she KNOWS that I'm here!"

Harry paused to think about that. "Maybe," he said at last, "but she did send us breakfast, not howlers or a plague of locusts or anything like that, so I bet she understands. Bacon?"

Hermione stared at him. "How can you be so glib?" she asked in a more normal tone of voice.

Harry shrugged. "It's a gift. Besides, it's Christmas!" He gestured grandly at the foot of his bed. Only then did he notice that where there ought to have been a modest but entirely satisfying pile of presents, there was nothing but a single box lying on the bare floor. Hermione had no presents whatsoever.

"That doesn't seem right," Harry said, walking over to examine his lone, and rather miniscule, present. "Where are yours?"

Hermione hung over the end of the bed and checked underneath it. "Maybe they're in my room," she said. Suddenly, her expression brightened considerably. "Maybe McGonagall doesn't know I'm here; she just guessed that we'd be up here for breakfast! I'll be right back." Jumping off the bed, she padded in stocking-clad feet out of the room.

Harry frowned as he scooped up the little box. It was red and tied with a large creamy colored ribbon with a little scrap of parchment tucked underneath it. Shoving the rest of his bun into his mouth, Harry removed the tag to read it.

To: Harry Potter

From: Professor D. Lindell

I finally found a good one for you. Happy Christmas.

A good one what? Harry wondered as he untied the bow and lifted the lid off of the box. Hermione burst into the room. She had tied her unruly hair back into a pony tail and donned her red flannel dressing gown.

"They're not there!" she said unhappily. "There's nothing in my room either. There's something weird going on." She crossed her arms sullenly and plopped down on the end of Ron's bed. "What's that you've got there?" she asked.

"A box," Harry replied.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, I can see that. What's inside the box?"

"No," Harry said, lifting the gift from its packaging. "I mean, I think it's a box." In his hand he held a small, dark wood cube covered in raised symbols and letters. He looked at it closely, turning it slowly in his hand, but couldn't find a latch, a hinge, or any way inside. "Or maybe not..." he said, frowning at it curiously.

"Who's it from?" Hermione asked, getting up to pour herself a cup of tea from the breakfast service.

"Professor Lindell," Harry replied, still examining the cube intently. "She said she 'finally found'--"

"Harry!"

Harry glanced up. Hermione was holding up a large box wrapped in garish Christmas paper -- a pattern of green house elves and red stockings.

"It was on the trolley," Hermione said, pointing to the bottom shelf as she brought the package over and sat next to him, "and it's addressed to both of us."

"That's odd," Harry said, looking at the card, which clearly said For Harry Potter and Hermione Granger but did not include the name of the sender.

"Well, let's open it," Hermione said, tugging at the bright green yarn tied in a bow. Harry shrugged, and together they tore the paper off. Hermione lifted the lid and took out a folded piece of parchment. Beneath it sat a rusty and badly dented kettle.

"What in the world?" she said, unfolding the parchment. Harry leaned over to read it as well, setting the odd package on the bed.

Dear Harry and Hermione,

It's sad to be alone on Christmas day,

Without your family and your loved ones near.

We thought we'd try to brighten up your day

And give you both some needed Christmas cheer.

The Headmaster said it would be okay

For us to send this special gift for two.

Just touch the kettle to be on your way,

'Cause all of us are waiting here for you!

Love,

The Weasleys

"It's a portkey!" Harry exclaimed. "A portkey to the Burrow!"

Hermione frowned at the parchment suspiciously. "But why wouldn't they tell us if they were going to send for us?"

Harry shrugged. "It was probably meant to be a surprise," he replied. Hermione was still looking at the kettle as though she expected it to sprout fangs and try to bite them at any moment.

"Don't you want to go to the Burrow?" Harry asked insistently.

"Of course I do!" Hermione scoffed. "Maybe we could just floo them first and make sure..."

"Got any floo powder?" Harry asked pointedly. Hermione frowned at him. "Oh stop being such a wet blanket, Hermione!" he cried, exasperated. "It's Christmas!"

"And you have an unfortunate history with portkeys," Hermione countered.

Harry huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. "Fine. We won't go. We'll stay here and be miserable with no presents and nothing but pain au chocolat to comfort us."

"Oh, stop whinging," Hermione sighed, replacing the lid on the box. "I'm going to go get dressed and throw a few things in a bag, and then we'll go, OK?" Before Harry could answer, she was up, had grabbed a croissant from the trolley, and dashed out of the door.

Rolling his eyes, Harry began to dress and started searching for some clean clothes to toss into his book bag. He was scrounging around for a matching pair of socks when Hermione reappeared, ready to go. She munched thoughtfully on a piece of bacon as Harry finished packing.

He glanced around to see if he'd forgotten anything and, on a whim, stuffed Professor Lindell's gift in on top of his clothes.

"Ready?" Hermione asked, removing the lid from the kettle-box once more.

"Ready."

"Erm..."

"What?"

"Wands out, do you reckon?"

Harry rolled his eyes again. "Fine."

Shouldering their bags and clutching their wands, they reached in together and firmly grasped the wretched old kettle. With a familiar yank and a dizzying swirl, they were on their way.

When the spinning stopped and Harry opened his eyes, he was immediately tackled to the ground.

"HARRY!" Ron shouted, very nearly elbowing Harry in the face in his exuberance. "You're here! What are you doing here? How did you get here?" He grinned wildly. "Nay mind! I don't care!"

"Nice to see you too, Ron," Hermione said, brushing imaginary specks of dust off of her jumper. Ron glanced over at her, leapt to his feet, and pulled her into a bone crushing hug. Hermione's eyes bulged and she made a squeaking noise.

Harry laughed.

"Harry!"

"What are you doing on the floor?"

Harry was pulled to his feet suddenly by both of the twins, dressed in matching hand-knit purple jumpers with three W's emblazoned across the front in gold.

"Good to see you, mate!" Fred (or possibly George) cried clapping Harry soundly on the back. "We were wondering when you were going to turn up!"

"Yeah," George (Fred?) said with a huge grin. "It just didn't feel like Christmas without you!"

Ginny appeared from the kitchen, bouncing with excitement as she hugged Hermione. "But why didn't you tell us you were coming?" she squealed. "It would have saved me a lot of moping this last week."

"We didn't know," Hermione protested. "We just woke up this morning and found a portkey with our names on it."

Harry looked around and spotted Mr. and Mrs. Weasley standing in the kitchen doorway with their arms around each other. Mr. Weasley was beaming proudly at them all, and Mrs. Weasley was dabbing the corner of her eyes with her apron.

"Well, we thought we'd give you all a bit of a surprise," Mr. Weasley said. "So, I arranged everything with Dumbledore and got the portkeys all set up..."

"Portkeys?" Hermione repeated. "But there was only -- eeeeeee!"

Her protestations were cut off by an inhuman shriek as she saw two more people appear behind Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"Mummy! Dad!" Hermione squealed, rushing forward. The Grangers became instantly entangled in a very bushy-haired three-way hug. Fred, George, and Ginny began doing a happy dance around them.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione," Mr. Weasley said, sporting an enormous grin.

"Christmas is no time to be away from your family," Mrs. Weasley explained as Hermione broke away from her parents long enough to smother her with a hug.

"That's right," Mr. Weasley said, coming over to stand next to Harry and Ron. "Everyone belongs with their family at Christmas." He put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Thanks, Mr. Weasley," Harry said.

"It was a good surprise, wasn't it?" Mr. Weasley replied, "I've never seen Ron so gloomy as when he and Ginny got off that train all alone."

Ron was grinning lopsidedly at his dad. "You had me all convinced that you'd just 'forgotten' to invite Harry along!" He protested. He glanced at Harry. "Who knew my parents could be so sneaky?" Harry grinned.

"Happy Christmas, Ron," Mr. Weasley replied with a wink.

The Burrow was the incarnation of Christmas spirit that day. The very air was filled with it; pine sap and cinnamon, warm fires, eggnog, jingling bells, and laughter. After the silence and solitude of the empty Gryffindor Tower, the confused cacophony was music to Harry's ears.

One entire wall of the living room was taken up with one of the largest Christmas trees Harry had ever seen. Or perhaps it only seemed huge because it dominated the room. Either way, it was a magnificent sight, hung all around with what looked like hand-made ornaments from the Weasley children's childhoods, floating candles, real snow and shining icicles, little red-breasted robins that chirped and flapped their wings, and tiny furry squirrels that darted from branch to branch, watching Harry with their bead black eyes and nibbling on the holly and garlands of cranberries. Harry put his finger out to touch a green Christmas tree ornament cut from felt with a tiny photo on it of the twins at about seven or eight years old, each with a giant bow stuck on his head.

Feeling a little dazed -- partially from all the excitement, and partially from being knocked about the head by Ron -- Harry followed the others into the warm, friendly kitchen of the Burrow.

"Oy!" Ron said grabbing him by the arm and wrenching him to one side. "Watch out for the mistletoe." He pointed to the lintel of the doorway where an innocent looking bundle of greenery had been hung from a bit of red yarn. "Fred and George's idea," Ron explained. "If you stand under it for more than a second or two, it keeps you there until you get a kiss. They put it up when Bill brought his girlfriend Fleur to dinner the other night." He smirked a bit. "Fred got himself stuck on purpose, hoping for a kiss from Fleur, only he got one from Bill instead."

Over the enormous hearth in the kitchen hung a row of matching red stockings in decreasing sizes, each with an initial knitted into it. The one with the 'A' was the biggest, hanging almost all the way down to the floor, and the rest were progressively smaller, all the way down to the littlest 'G.'

"Those are for later, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, seeing Harry staring at the stockings. "Have you had breakfast? Yes? Good. Why don't you help the boys clear the table?"

Harry followed Fred, George, and Ron over to the sink where they were making tall stacks of plates and cups. Harry grabbed a few errant glasses and plunged them into the dishwater. Mrs. Granger was watching the magical scrubbing brush with an expression of awe. Her face resembled Hermione's very much, but her hair was sleek and long and threaded with a few silver strands. It was obvious from Mr. Granger's bushy beard where Hermione had inherited her hair, although the top of his own head was completely bald and very shiny.

Suddenly there was a clattering of jingle bells from the front of the house. "Oy! I smell gingerbread!"

"Bill!" Ginny squealed, rushing to greet her eldest brother. George hopped up to follow her, poking his head around the doorframe. He reappeared a moment later looking crestfallen.

"Just Bill," he said, sounding disappointed.

"Fleur's visiting her family in France," Ron reminded him.

Before long, Charlie arrived as well, carrying an enormous turkey. "Over here, over here!" Mrs. Weasley cried, directing Charlie, who could barely see around the gargantuan bird. "Just put it in the oven -- there!"

"But that will take forever to cook, won't it?" Mrs. Granger asked, looking at the turkey thoughtfully.

Mrs. Weasley smiled knowingly at her. "Not if we help it along a bit..." Harry saw Mrs. Granger's eyes go wide as she watched Mrs. Weasley poking the turkey with her wand.

"What about the Statute of Secrecy and all that?" Harry asked quietly, drawing Hermione away from her parents a bit.

"That doesn't apply to immediate family members," Hermione said. "There's a whole subsection dedicated to the use of magic around Muggles who already know about the wizard world." Hermione glanced around furtively. "By the way, Harry," she whispered, "please don't say anything about the dementors to my parents. They won't understand, and it'll just frighten them, OK?"

Before Harry could answer, he heard the jingle of the bells over the front door again. Everyone grew silent. Harry glanced around, counting red heads, and wondering who was missing.

"Hullo? Er... Hullo? Is anyone home?"

"PERCY!" Mrs. Weasley cried racing for the front room. Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged looks and then, in unison, turned to the twins who were scowling blackly. Bill, however, was already on it.

"Not a word, you two," he said, grabbing both of his younger brothers by the scruffs of their necks. "If you ruin this for Mum, I'll see that you look like you've been testing out those Nosebleed Nougats on each other again, right?"

"Right!" George yelped.

"What do you take us for?" Fred asked, rubbing the back of his neck when Bill released him. "A couple of insensitive gimps?"

"Just so long as we're clear," Bill said quietly as Mrs. Weasley ushered Percy into the kitchen, fawning over him every step of the way. Percy, for his part, looked highly embarrassed, but Harry was pleased to see that, under his robes, Percy was wearing one of Mrs. Weasely's jumpers.

"Richard, this is our son, Percy," Mr. Weasley was saying, steering Percy over towards Mr. Granger who was laughing and looking hopeless.

"I'm going to need a scoreboard to keep track of you all!" he said. "OK, you're Percy, and that's Charlie, and you're..."

"George," Fred said helpfully.

"Right, you're George, so that makes you Fred," Mr. Granger said, pointing at George, "and the bloke with the ponytail is Bill -- yes? Bill?"

"That's right," Hermione said encouragingly.

"And you," Mr. Granger said, wrapping an arm around Ron's shoulders, "are Ron. Couldn't forget you, could I? Not the way our Hermione goes on about you." He chuckled good-naturedly as Ron and Hermione both blushed deeply.

"And Harry, Dad," Hermione said quickly. "You remember Harry, from this summer?"

"Of course we remember Harry," Mrs. Granger said, taking a seat next to her husband.

Harry smiled, trying to remember if he'd ever properly thanked them for the birthday cake, when he heard what sounded like a hailstorm knocking at the back door.

"What in the -- who could that be?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she left the potatoes chopping themselves by the sink.

Charlie was nearest, and so he answered the door. At first, Harry thought it was some sort of prank, as he couldn't see anyone there. Then Mrs. Weasley groaned and Harry heard a sound uncannily like a pitch pipe.

"I keep hoping they'll forget one year..." Mrs. Weasley began, but she was drowned out by a chorus of very tiny voices:

"We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year!"

Harry crept forward to peer around Charlie out onto the back step where dozens of ugly greenish brown garden gnomes stood ranged across the threshold.

"Mum!" Charlie called. "Where's the gnome pudding?"

"Right by the door, where it always is," Mrs. Weasley replied, her attention once again on her chopping vegetables.

"Gnome pudding?" Mrs. Granger repeated, looking distressed.

"Now bring us some figgy pudding, now bring us some figgy pudding, now bring us some figgy pudding, and bring it RIGHT HERE!"

"Every year it's the same thing," Fred complained, grabbing a large tin from the shelf near the door.

"You'd think they'd learn a new song once in a while," George added. "Or at least come up with something better to ask for than figgy pudding."

Harry gapped at them. "You mean they actually want figgy pudding?"

"We won't go until we get some, we won't go until we get some, we won't go until we get some so bring some RIGHT HERE!"

"Here!" Charlie shouted, grabbing a handful out of the tin and chucking it at the assembled gnomes. The clod of preserved fruits and brandy hit one of them smack in the face, and several others began swarming around it, going for the pudding.

"Good shot, Charlie," George said as he happily hurled another clod out the door, this time a little further away. The gnomes began to break ranks, some still singing, badly out of key with the others.

"Here, Harry," Fred said, pressing a handful of sticky pudding into Harry's hands. "It's a Weasley family tradition."

Harry grinned broadly and tossed the goop out into the yard where quite a few gnomes scurried out after it. He turned to see Mr. Granger watching him curiously.

"What in blue blazes are those things?"

Things never stopped moving in the kitchen of the Burrow, resulting in a barely contained chaos, like a cauldron perpetually on the verge of boiling over. Everyone wanted to help Mrs. Weasley, so various people were set to various tasks like peeling potatoes, shaping dough into rolls, chopping onions, and the like. At one point, Mr. Weasley brandished an extremely large cleaver, enthusiastically claiming that he was going to carve the turkey "the Muggle way," and quickly began asking the Grangers exactly how one went about doing that.

After Mrs. Weasley announced that it was time for the stockings and gifts, all hell broke loose. Each of the Weasley children scrabbled enthusiastically for the fireplace. Fred reached the mantel first and seemed to be doing his level best to block the way for as many of his siblings as possible. Percy stood behind him, hands on hips, looking as though he were having a difficult time not saying something rude. He was spared the moral quandary when Bill gave Fred a great shove and sent him sprawling to the floor. Mrs. Weasley kept shouting things at them, though for the most part her voice was drowned by the happy din -- a feat in and of itself. Mr. and Mrs. Granger disappeared for a moment and then returned with ordinary shopping bags filled with gifts which they began pressing on Hermione.

Harry stood back, content to watch the mayhem. Just then, Mrs. Weasley caught his attention.

"Well go on, dear," she said kindly. "Don't you want to open your stocking?" Harry frowned at her, then looked over at the mantel. There, between the places where Ron and Ginny's stockings had hung was another red stocking with a white 'H' knitted into it. He hadn't even noticed it amongst the others before. Mouth gaping, he glanced back at Mrs. Weasley who was smiling fondly at him.

Solemnly, Harry walked over to the fireplace and removed his stocking from its hook. It was heavy and practically overflowing. He turned back to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"You didn't have to..." he started.

"Oh just dig in, Harry," George said with a grin. "It's what we all do."

Harry sat down on the floor between Ron and Charlie, who were already half way through the contents of their stockings.

"Ah, get in!" Ron exclaimed pulling an enormous sack marked 'Zonkos' out of his stocking. Harry couldn't quite see how it had ever fit into the sock in the first place. "Thanks, lads!" Ron cried, waving the bag at Fred and George.

"You're buying gifts from the competition?" Bill asked.

"Market research," Fred replied airily, unwrapping an enormous bar of Honeydukes' chocolate from Ron.

"What's all this then?" Percy asked suddenly. He was frowning and holding up a large black rock.

"Must've been a naughty boy, Perce," George replied, sniggering. "Father Christmas has gone and left you a stocking full of coal!"

"FRED!" Mrs. Weasley roared.

"Why do you always assume it was me?" Fred asked innocently. His mother glared at him and he paled slightly under her gaze.

"Yes, all right," he sighed. "No need to get your knickers in a twist, Percy." He pulled his wand out and waved it in Percy's direction, turning the coal in his hand into a book. Percy was still pouting but looked slightly mollified to realize that the rest of his gifts had all been put right as well.

It didn't take Harry long to figure out that the stockings had been modified by the same kind of charm that Mr. Weasley had used on his car; they were much bigger on the inside than they looked. He pulled out a new Weasley jumper, done in a dark heather green, and a large tin of baked treats from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley; a batch of peanut brittle from Hagrid that seemed harder than diamonds; a book entitled Secrets of the Aurors: Auror Practices and Procedures Revealed! from Ron; and an enormous box of assorted chocolates from Ginny.

Near the bottom, Harry found a box filled with strange delicacies like a packet of biscuits labeled "OREOS," colorful bags of crisps, a bag of chocolates called "Kisses," and a small roll of paper tied with a red satin ribbon. Carefully untying the bow, he unrolled the papers and found himself staring down at several pages of sheet music, hand written, with the title "Phoenix Song," written across the top. At the bottom was a small, tidy post script.

Solo Composition for Violin, composed by Gwendolyn L. Griffiths

Dedicated to Harry Potter, for being an inspiration.

"What's that?" Ron asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Nothing," Harry replied quickly, re-rolling the pages tightly. "Gwyn sent me loads of American stuff -- look!"

"What in Merlin's name--"

Harry glanced over, following Ron's shocked expression, and saw Mr. Weasley holding up a truly horrible pair of boxer shorts. They were red and green plaid with Father Christmas hats printed on them and real silver jingle bells sewed on each and every hat. Mr. Weasley shook them experimentally and they made a horrible racket.

"Er... Thank you, boys..." he said uncertainly. Fred and George grinned.

"We thought you'd like 'em," George said proudly.

"We went all over London looking for just the thing for you," Fred added. "Traditional Muggle Christmas gift, those are." At that, his father's face lit up happily.

"Really? Wow..."

Harry glanced over at Mr. and Mrs. Granger who were frowning uncertainly at the twins, and at Hermione who was giggling behind her hand.

"Did you hear that, Molly? Muggle Christmas tradition! Thanks boys!"

"Thank you, Harry!" Hermione called from the other side of the room, holding up the enormous tome of illustrated and animated anatomy he'd ordered for her. Harry felt slightly relieved; he had been wondering whether or not his presents for the others had made the trip to the Burrow with him, but apparently the Weasleys had thought of everything.

"Have you opened mine?" Hermione asked.

Digging around in the stocking once again, Harry produced a package with a tag saying that it was from Hermione. Ron found he had an almost identical package and they opened them together.

Inside each was a pair of knitted, black, fingerless gloves with a scarlet and a gold pattern around the wrists.

"They're for Quidditch," Hermione explained, coming to sit with them. "I made them myself. I'm getting loads better, don't you think?"

"Wow," Harry said, trying his on for size. It fit perfectly. "I'll say."

"Speaking of Quidditch..." Ron said suddenly, getting up and heading for the closet. He returned a moment later carrying a large, badly wrapped object.

"This is from me," he said, handing it to Hermione.

"And me!" Ginny interjected. Ron rolled his eyes.

"And Ginny," he amended.

Hermione, looking pleasantly perplexed, began tearing off the paper while Ginny and Ron glared at each other.

"Oh my goodness!" Hermione exclaimed, staring at the package in her lap. "It's a broom!"

"It's my old broom," Ginny said with a grin. "Ron sent it off to have it refurbished and everything, so now it's good as new!"

"Ron!" Hermione said, staring from the broom in her lap up to Ron. "That must have been really expensive. You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble!"

"It was less trouble than knitting a pair of gloves," Ron said with a shrug. "And besides, I reckon it's time you had a proper flying lesson. We'll get you over that fear of heights in no time, you'll see!"

Harry caught Hermione's slightly panicked look and grinned.

"Ewwwww!" Ginny yelled suddenly, leaping up off of the floor and backing away from her stocking. She put her fists on her hips and stared around at each of her brothers. "All right!" she roared. "Who thought it would be funny to put something slimy in my stocking??" She turned and looked directly at Fred and George.

"Wasn't us," George said. "Didn't bring a thing that's slimy, though I could run back to the shop if you like."

"See," Fred added, "that's the trouble with being so almighty funny: we get blamed for pranks that weren't even ours to begin with." Ginny narrowed her eyes at him dangerously. "Honestly!" Fred said with a chuckle. "Coal is the extent of our stocking tampering this year."

Ginny seemed to believe them as she turned her glare towards Bill and Charlie. Ron reached over and grabbed her stocking and started poking around in it.

"Hey!" he said, drawing the slimy thing out. "It's Trevor!"

"Who?" Mrs. Granger asked warily, staring disdainfully down at the toad in Ron's hands.

"How did Trevor get in my stocking?" Ginny demanded.

"Must have come with us from Hogwarts somehow," Harry said, accepting the toad from Ron. "Neville was looking for him. You know how he's always disappearing."

Ginny looked like she didn't quite know whether or not to believe him.

"Right, that's it!" Mrs. Weasley announced. "Everyone clear your gifts out of the kitchen and help me get things ready for supper!"

That the meal managed to get assembled and on the table without any major mishaps despite the number of people "helping" was a magic that Harry couldn't even begin to fathom. Mrs. Weasley directed them all like an orchestra conductor.

The twins were levitating and juggling the hot rolls in mid air and then tossing them casually into the breadbaskets when Mrs. Weasley said, "Will someone please get the turkey out of the oven?"

"No problem, Mum," Fred replied, sending the last roll skittering into its place. He waved his wand casually towards the oven, and the door flew open.

"NO! Fred, not the turkey!" Mrs. Weasley screeched in horror. Everyone stopped to watch as Fred and George easily levitated the turkey out of the oven and over the end of the table.

"No faith," Fred scoffed as the turkey made a perfect three-point landing. "No faith at all..."

As they were finally sitting down to dinner, Harry heard another knock at the back door.

"Oh not again," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Charlie, if they start singing again, just chuck the whole tin at them!"

Charlie grinned, bolting for the door and grabbing the gnome pudding tin on his way. When he opened the door, however, Harry didn't hear any singing, so he turned to look. Charlie was helping a man out of his shabby, threadbare overcoat as he stomped and rubbed his hands together. Harry frowned at the back of his head until he turned to face the gathered revelers.

"Remus!" Harry exclaimed, shooting up out of his chair.

"Sorry I'm late," Remus replied with a weak smile. Harry nearly tripped over his own feet trying to extricate himself from the tangle of people and mismatched chairs ranged around the Weasleys' kitchen table. Remus didn't look entirely well; his skin was pale and seemed slightly translucent, his eyes were not as bright as usual, and there were poorly hidden red welts peeking out over the top of his collar. Nevertheless, Harry didn't think he'd seen a more welcome sight in a very long time.

"I'll get another chair," Bill said, getting up from the table.

"He can have mine!" Harry called after him, yanking the chair out even further so that Remus could slip into it. Fred, George and Ginny scooted obligingly along the bench they were sharing and made room for Harry on the end, next to Remus. Everyone was talking at once. Mrs. Weasley was loading up a plate with a giant's share of everything and clucking disapprovingly about how thin Remus was, Hermione was making introductions to her parents, Mr. Weasley was offering him a glass of wine while asking him about his trip, and the twins were peppering Harry with questions about where Remus had been and what he had been doing.

At the head of the table, Arthur stood and began wiggling his fingers and shaking out his arms expressively as he brandished the cleaver and large fork he had chosen for carving. Mrs. Weasley was watching him with an expression of unabashed terror; Mr. Granger was offering pointers.

"All right, it's the legs first, Arthur me lad. Then the wings, and then the -- are you sure you wouldn't like me to, er..."

"I've got it, I've got it," Mr. Weasley replied vaguely as he began tentatively poking the bird with his fork.

"Bill," Mrs. Weasley hissed as Mr. Weasley and Mr. Granger became distracted discussing drumsticks, "do something!"

Bill nodded circumspectly and Harry saw him drawing his wand out from under the table.

"Er..." Remus asked quietly, "what's going on?"

"Mr. Weasley decided that he's going to carve the turkey the Muggle way," Harry replied. Remus raised a concerned eyebrow at Harry who grinned.

"And he's never...?"

"Apparently not."

By now, Mr. Weasley had begun to hack quite terrifyingly and yet ineffectually at one of the drumsticks while Mr. Granger hovered over him offering platitudes and encouragement.

"That's right. You've got it now..."

Rising quietly from the table, Bill wandered over towards the knife block on the pretense of looking for the salt, trying not to draw his father's attention. Harry could have sworn he heard Bill muttering something in French as he pointed his wand at one of the knives.

"Wait a minute..." Mr. Granger was saying. "No, I don't think that's right. Try sawing with it a bit more instead of hacking..."

Without paying much attention to Mr. Granger's advice, Mr. Weasley took another swing at the turkey, sending bits of meat flying into the air. "Whoops!" Tracking the flying turkey, Mr. Weasley glanced around towards where Bill was still muttering over the knife. Remus, beside Harry, drew his wand.

At that moment, something seemed to land smack in the dish of mashed potatoes, causing white globs to hurl up into the air.

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley yelled, wiping a spot of potato off of her forehead.

"I didn't--" Mr. Weasley began, but Bill interrupted him.

"Here, Dad. Why don't you try this knife? Bit less dangerous."

"You think so?" Mr. Weasley asked, accepting the proffered blade from his son. Jabbing the meat once again with his fork, Mr. Weasley deftly began removing perfect slices of meat from the turkey.

"There!" Mr. Granger cried enthusiastically. "That's getting the hang of it!" He picked up a mangled drumstick between two fingers. "Who wants dark meat?"

For several hours, the house was full of the clink of silverware, the low din of conversation, and the satisfied grunts of full bellied Weasleys. Harry began to feel warm and sleepy watching the twins deftly stealing Percy's rolls when he wasn't looking, listening to Ron trying to explain Quidditch to Mr. Granger, and watching Remus watch everybody else. The sun had set, and the house was lit by glowing candlelight when Mrs. Weasley rose and began to clear the dishes.

The twins were sent to set up the camera for a big group picture, and Ginny and Charlie went along, ostensibly to help. Harry thought it was more likely that they just wanted to get out of cleaning up. Ron led Hermione into the living room as he began explaining the finer points of her new, used, Comet Two-Sixty while she listened politely with a glazed expression on her face. Harry hung back in the kitchen for a while, clearing plates and generally milling about listening to snatches of conversation.

Bill and Mr. Granger were talking to Percy, who was holding his wine glass out at arm's length and swirling the last of his wine around rather more violently than was necessary. Harry passed by and realized that Percy was talking about snogging some girl he'd met at the Ministry Christmas party.

"I was wondering, Molly," Harry heard Mrs. Granger say as she scraped plates into the garbage, "if you could tell me where I might be able to get a clock like that one." She pointed to Mrs. Weasley's excellent clock, all nine hands of which were currently pointing to 'home.'

"How are you feeling, old man," Arthur asked, dropping down onto the bench next to Remus. "I know the full moon was last night. Hope the trip wasn't too much for you."

"I wanted to thank you for that," Remus replied. "But you really shouldn't have, Arthur. Intercontinental portkeys aren't cheap--"

Arthur held up a hand to stop him. "We were glad to do it. Besides, I have a good friend in the Portkey Issuance Office who helped set it all up." He paused and gazed fondly at his wife. "We know it's been a hard year -- for everyone -- and I think Molly's been a bit lonely of late. There's so much going on and all the kids are growing up so fast. I mean, it's hard to believe that Ron will be out of school in another year..."

Remus nodded thoughtfully.

Arthur continued. "And Ginny will be gone the year after that, and, well, I think Molly just wanted to have a big family Christmas the way we used to do."

Remus looked slowly around at all the merry faces and smiled wanly. "I..." he paused and sighed. "Thank you for including me."

Suddenly, Mr. Weasley seemed to notice Harry loitering nearby, idly wringing a dishtowel in his hands.

"Have a good Christmas, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked.

Harry grinned broadly. "Oh yeah," he said enthusiastically, "thanks for having me."

"Well, as I said," Mr. Weasley smiled, getting to his feet and taking his plate over to the sink, "Christmas is all about family."

"I think I get that," Harry replied. He glanced over at Remus and smiled.

Remus stared back at him, looking surprised.

"Better run on in, Harry," Mr. Weasley said, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It sound's like Molly's about ready to take the photo." Harry nodded and headed for the door.

"I should be going," Remus said quietly.

"Wouldn't hear of it," Arthur retorted. "Molly's already made up Percy's room for you. Besides, you've barely had time to say hello to Harry."

Harry paused just on the other side of the doorframe, listening for Remus' reaction. There was a long pause. Then Mr. Weasley clapped Remus on the back.

"Good. Picture first, then bed."

"All right. ALL RIGHT!" Mrs. Weasley shouted as she tried to get everyone's attention. "Bill, Charlie, Percy, you three go in the back with your father and -- Ron, put that broom down this instant and get over here! Fred! Don't think I didn't see that. Now, let's see. Richard, Judy, you and Hermione stand on this end and -- Harry, dear! You stand over there by the twins. Arthur! Remus! No, no, Ron, you're much too tall to stand in the front with Hermione. Better be behind her. Yes. That's better. Remus, you can be on the other end there with Harry. Your hair looks fine, Ginny, so could you please come and join us for the picture? Scoot together everyone, and act like you enjoy one another. All right, everyone ready? George, for Merlin's sake, there's a mirror right over there. I can see perfectly well what you're doing. Ok everyone, watch the birdie!"

Harry stared at the old fashioned looking camera set up on a tripod in front of them all. A small panel in the top opened as Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at it, and a bird that looked something like a cuckoo from a clock burst out of the top and bobbed, chirruping five times, before it disappeared back into the camera. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced up to see Remus smiling at him. Out of the back of the camera, from under the drape, there suddenly appeared a vast quantity of purplish smoke.

"That's it!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, breaking her pose and hurrying across to the camera. "It'll take a few minutes to develop. Percy, see if you can find the Christmas album for me, would you?"

"Mum!" Ron whined suddenly. "You're not dragging that old thing out, are you? Not when there're people over..."

"What old thing?" Hermione asked pleasantly as Mrs. Weasley fiddled with the camera and Ron shot Hermione a dangerous glower.

"Well," Mrs. Weasley replied a bit distractedly, "just about every year since Arthur and I have been married we've done a Christmas portrait of the whole family, all together and we've got them all in one album."

"Here it is!" Percy called jovially, waving a large, leather bound album over his head as he made his way towards the overstuffed sofa.

"1985!" Ginny shouted, bouncing onto the sofa next to him.

"1985!" the twins repeated in tandem.

"NO!" Ron yelled.

"What's 1985?" Harry asked, hurrying around behind the sofa to look over Percy's shoulder.

"NOTHING!" Ron roared. "IT'S NOTHING!"

Ginny motioned for Hermione to come sit next to her as Percy began turning through the pages. It was like a flipbook of the Weasleys' lives, each page a different photo, each photo a different year in their family history. At first, the pictures were of a very young Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in a tiny flat, standing in front of a rather sickly looking assortment of Christmas trees. Then the pictures began to include Bill as a baby, and a few years after that, Charlie. Slowly the Weasley family grew, and under the photograph for each year, Mrs. Weasley had written a caption.

"Fred and George's first Christmas," Ginny read.

"Handsome little tykes, weren't we?" George observed.

"Yeah," Charlie agreed, leaning over the sofa to look at the photos as well. "I wonder what happened." George stuck his tongue out at him.

"Ron's first Christmas," Ginny continued as Percy turned the pages.

"Oh!" Hermione cooed as the photographic infant Ron began to wail and the toddler twins both put their fingers in their ears.

"1985!" Fred prodded.

"I'm leaving," Ron announced. "You lot are sick and twisted, and I'm leaving."

"There!" Ginny cried breathlessly. "Stop there, Percy. 1985!"

Harry bent forward to get a better view of the photo, but he couldn't see anything special about it. Fred and George were sitting cross-legged on the floor in the front making bunny ears over each other's heads, Mr. Weasley was standing in the back with his arms around Bill and Charlie, Percy was standing next to Mrs. Weasley, who was sitting in a chair holding Ginny in her lap, and they were all smiling happily at the camera.

"But," Hermione said with a small frown, "where's Ron?"
"Wait for it..." Fred and George said in unison.

Suddenly, from outside the frame, a five-year-old Ron came streaking into view -- literally. He ran past the camera without a stitch of clothing except for one green sock. In the photo, Mrs. Weasley leaped out of her chair and began chasing after him as the little twins dissolved into fits of pointing and giggling while Percy frowned and the older boys chuckled.

"BRILLIANT!" George crowed happily.

"Gets funnier every time I see it," Fred said, wiping his eyes. Ginny was giggling wildly, and Hermione's eyes looked as though they were about to pop out of her head.

"I HATE YOU ALL!" Ron screamed from another room.

"Going to give us an encore, Ronnikins?" Fred yelled back.

"Don't forget the sock!" George added.

"Idiots," Percy said with a sniff. The five-year-old Ron ran back through the frame, this time with Mrs. Weasley chasing after him, bouncing Ginny on one hip. Percy snorted slightly. "Although, it is mildly amusing."

"Stop tormenting your brother," Mrs. Weasley said to the twins as she walked over, shaking the most recent picture that was still developing. "Just because we don't have photographic evidence of the two of you in your exhibitionist phase doesn't mean it didn't happen. And your nudity was always in stereo." Percy laughed quite hard at that.

"Turn to a fresh page, Percy. Ah. There we are." Mrs. Weasley cast a quick sticking charm on the photograph and placed it into the book so that Harry found himself looking down at the whole mob of them; smiling Grangers with their perfect teeth, the twins grinning and waving as Charlie grabbed Bill and put him in a headlock. And there, on the end, Remus was standing just behind Harry, one hand resting on his shoulder.

"I think this is the best one yet," Mrs. Weasley said in a slightly choked voice. They all murmured their agreement. Mrs. Weasley sniffed. "Well!" she said briskly. "Who wants pudding?"

Eventually they were able to coax Ron back into the room by bribing him with Christmas pudding, though he and Hermione obstinately refused to look at one another, and Ron's face remained bright red for quite a while. Then there was a commotion as Bill, Percy, and the Grangers all set off for home. Remus bid them all goodnight, turning in early, and Charlie and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were talking quietly in the kitchen.

Harry stretched out happily on the floor in front of the sofa where Hermione was curled up going through one of the many books she had received. Ginny was sitting next to her, admiring the new dress robes her parents had given her for Christmas. Ron was slumped nearby in an armchair groaning softly.

"Too. Much. Pudding," he whimpered.

"Harry," Hermione said suddenly, "I meant to ask you. What was it you got from Professor Lindell?"

"Professor Lindell sent you a Christmas present?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, rolling over, looking for his satchel. "I forgot about it."

"What's a professor doing giving you gifts?" Ron demanded without opening his eyes. "She didn't give any of us presents."

"Dunno," Harry admitted, finding his bag and pulling the strange wooden cube out of it.

"What is it?" Ginny asked keenly, climbing down off the sofa to sit next to Harry on the floor.

"I'm not sure," Harry said. "I thought it was a box at first, but then -- wait a minute..." Harry suddenly realized that one side of the box twisted, like a rubix cube. He turned it slowly until he heard a satisfying click. All at once, the opposite side of the box slid open and a strangely diffuse beam of light shot out onto the Christmas tree. It was a picture, like a movie.

"That's our common room!" Ginny exclaimed, immediately recognizing the tapestries and squashy red armchairs.

"Point it at the wall, Harry," Hermione suggested.

Harry shifted the box around so that the beam of light was pointing at a blank space of wall. The common room was sparsely filled with students that Harry didn't recognize. Except for one -- a girl who looked to be about twelve or thirteen years old, sitting alone at a table.

"That's Professor Lindell!" he said, recognizing her glasses and pigtails.

"It can't be," Ron said, sitting up in his chair. "No one as good looking as she is starts out looking like that."

"Oh, honestly, Ron," Hermione scoffed.

"Wait!" Ginny said. A new group of girls had just entered the common room. They were all much older than Professor Lindell, and they were all grouped around another girl, one with long, deep red hair.

"Harry..." Hermione said, falteringly. "Do you think that's--"

"Yeah," Harry replied. "That's my mum." The girls were chattering and giggling, their voices sounding distant and tinny coming from the little wooden box.

"Open it, open it!" one of the girls cajoled as Lily Evans carried an enormous brown box into the middle of the common room.

"What if the boys are around -- you know who I mean," another girl cautioned. This caused the rest of the group to burst into giggles.

"Now, he can't even know it exists," Lily said firmly, looking around at each of the girls in turn, "otherwise Merlin only knows what feats he might attempt to get a peek at it. I must swear you all to secrecy." All of the girls around her nodded earnestly, huge smiles pasted across their faces.

"Let's take it upstairs," another girl said sensibly. She was very lovely, with long, strawberry-blonde hair, and she looked vaguely familiar to Harry. Suddenly it hit him.

"That's Professor Lindell's sister!" he exclaimed.

"Penny," Hermione breathed.

"How do you--" Ron began.

"Shhh."

"All right," Lily was saying, "make sure the coast is clear! He has spies EVERYWHERE!" Several of the girls dashed up the dormitory stairs ahead of them as Lily readjusted the box on her hip. She and Penny were whispering to one another as they walked past Professor Lindell's table, then Lily stopped. She glanced at Penny who gave her a pained look and then rolled her eyes.

"Demetria," Lily said. It seemed to startle the girl, who jumped visibly. "Come with us! We've got a secret. Do you want to see?" Lily's eyes were shining brightly with mischief and mystery. Demetria glanced at her sister, who was obviously trying to remain neutral, before nodding and standing up from her chair. If there had been any doubt in their minds before as to the identity of the girl, it vanished as soon as she stood. Something about the way she moved, the way she carried herself across the room and up the stairs to the seventh year girls' dormitory reminded them all strongly of their Defense teacher.

"Quick! Close the door!!" The girls crowded around Lily as she made her way over to her bed and deposited the package on it, deftly unknotting the twine and lifting the lid. Demetria stood back, away from the others a bit, but watching all the time.

In a flurry of tissue paper and wrapping, Lily pulled a beautiful, deep green dress out of the box, and every girl in the room gasped. Harry heard Hermione and Ginny echo the sentiment.

The dress was long and looked to be made of velvety material. Set in the deep green background was an intricate pattern of vines and leaves, burnished into the fabric, so dark they were almost black. Lily swept it up and held it up in front of her, hurrying over to the full length mirror hung on the back of the dormitory door.

"He's going to die," one of the girls sighed ecstatically. "Just keel over and die, that's what he'll do."

"And if he doesn't," another girl added, "every other boy in the room will."

"I don't know why I even bother to go..." a third girl pined in a voice that was only half joking.

"James Potter doesn't deserve you, you know," Penny said with a little laugh as Lily did a pirouette in front of the mirror, allowing the dress' full skirt to fly out around her.

"I don't know," Lily replied with a sigh. "I think he's got hidden depths."

Penny snorted. "That boy's about as deep as a teaspoon."

Lily glanced up at her sharply. "Well that's why you're my backup, aren't you? Has Black asked you yet?"

Penny shook her head, but a wicked grin was spreading across her face. "No, and he doesn't have to. I asked Severus instead."

"What??" several of the girls shrieked in chorus. "Snape?"

"You did?" Lily asked, turning to look Penny in the eye.

Penny nodded. "And if that doesn't get Sirius high-and-mighty Black's attention, then nothing will!"

"Are you sure that's wise?" one of the other girls asked nervously. "I mean, Severus is a Slytherin! And he is a bit... odd. Isn't he? I don't know, Penny."

"And surely you realize that you might actually be putting his life in danger if Black sees the two of you together," Lily said flatly.

Penny smiled innocently.

"It's all fun and games 'til someone ends with green boils on his arse," Lily continued, ignoring her friend's expression. "And I don't want my date hexing yours across the dance floor. Besides, even if he can be an insufferable twit, Snape doesn't deserve to be a pawn in your romantic games."

Penny shook her head. "Not to worry, Lil. James'll be too busy looking at you to notice who I'm with. And Severus and I have known each other forever. I told him we would just be going as friends and he said he would be -- honored to escort me." She said the last with a very serious expression and a passable rendition of Snape's nasal drawl. Several of the other girls giggled. She winked at them.

"We'll see," Lily said, turning back to the mirror to continue admiring her dress. "And who knows? If James Potter manages to keep himself in line for an entire night sitting across the table from Severus Snape, well, I just might have to reconsider one of his incessant marriage proposals." All the girls laughed at that.

Lily turned to put the dress back in its box when she saw Demetria standing by the door. She smiled at the younger girl.

"What do you think, Demetria?" she asked, holding up the dress once more. "Do you think this will impress Big Head Potter?"

Demetria nodded, wide eyed. "I think it's lovely..." she said, her voice echoing suddenly. And then, just as abruptly as it had started, the image was gone and the lid of the little box slowly slid shut.

The four of them were silent for a while, staring at the space where the image had been, now only a bit of blank wall.

"Anyone want to tell me what the bloody hell that was all about?" Ron asked.

"Was there a card?" Ginny asked, looking down at the box in Harry's hands.

"Yeah," Harry said, remembering. "It said, 'I finally found a good one for you.'"