Christmas morning was always supposed to be magical, especially for a magical child. And when Harry was younger, there had been a certain excitement that would overwhelm him; the idea of running downstairs and tearing open presents was always fun.
The first part of the morning was spent with his father; Sirius would be ready and waiting, breakfast for the two of them spread over the coffee table with presents piled under the tree. They would take turns opening gifts and then fill their bellies with yummy food. After they were full, Harry always enjoyed playing with the toys or looking through the books, one of his favourite memories was a toy wand that allowed him to squirt water at unsuspecting victims. It was on toy that Sirius had admitted was a mistake in buying since Harry didn’t seem to use it on anyone else but him.
The second part of the morning was when his mother would arrive. Lily would arrive at White Oak manor around eleven, and she would spend an hour or so exchanging gifts with Harry before the family would come together for lunch. As it always had been, one year, James, Harvey and Remus would go to White Oak, and then the next, Harry and Sirius would go to Godric’s Hollow. It seemed to be the one day out of the whole year that Sirius and James—mostly James—would pretend that there wasn’t something uncomfortable about the family arrangement.
But as Harry woke in his bed Christmas morning, he didn’t feel that mystical joy that he remembered. If anything, all he could feel was dread for the day to come. He would be forced to smile and play happy family at his mother’s home for hours, and only after presents, lunch and a few hours of chatting would Harry be allowed to leave.
Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he laid on his back, staring at the ceiling. He had managed to make it through Christmas Eve without altering anyone to his current inner turmoil. His father had also not said anything to his grandparents or to Narcissa, for which he was grateful. The fewer people who knew, the better. It had been easier to keep up his smile when he didn’t have to suffer with his pain being rubbed in his face.
When they had returned home from their day with his grandparents, his father had asked him to sit down. Sirius had tried to help him, practically begged him to open up without dropping to his knees and yelling, please. But Harry just couldn’t. How did he explain to his father that deep inside, he hated his life, that he wanted to be selfish and have his mother to himself? He didn’t want Lily to be married to James; he didn’t want her to have another son. He wanted her with them, spending Christmas morning in their PJ’s and not having to go somewhere else so that he could see her.
There were nights that Harry could remember from when he was a child that he would wake up from nightmares. Terrifying images would rattle him to his core, and he would wake up screaming. His father was always there to comfort him, he would hold him close and calm him, but his mother never was. It hurt him to know that while he was growing up, desperately wanting his mother to be there to hug him when he was scared, that she was there for Harvey.
Today was no different, Harry wanted to be selfish, but he wouldn’t be. Just like every other day before it, he would get up, dress, spend the morning with his father and then for his mother, he would pretend to be happy.
Throwing back the covers, Harry sat up and let out a heavy breath and told himself that he could do it. He jumped in the shower and scrubbed at his hair and his skin; by the time he climbed out from underneath the hot water, his skin was very red. He clenched his jaw as he dried himself, his towel burning against his irritated skin. Harry dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, a black button-up and a pair of black boots. He combed his fingers through his hair and then slid his wand into his back pocket. The young man in the mirror could make people believe that he was fine; they wouldn’t see the teenager who was struggling to breathe.
Downstairs the house-elves were enjoying themselves. When Harry and Sirius would go to Godric’s Hollow, Sirius would always insist they have the day to enjoy themselves. No need to cook, clean, or do any form of chores. It seemed from the giggling that they had enjoyed some eggnog early on.
Harry found his father in the main living room. In the far corner beside the large window was their Christmas tree. Decorated with candles, bulbuls, bows, and tinsel, and below was a small mountain of presents. The rest of the room was decorated with candles and bows, the house-elves would have done the whole house, but neither Sirius nor Harry had ever felt that it was necessary.
Sirius was sitting on the sofa, the Daily Prophet in his hands. He was grumbling to himself as he drank his coffee.
“Morning,” said Harry, “Happy Christmas.”
Sirius glanced up and smiled at him. “Happy Christmas, pup. Hungry?” He gestured to the coffee table that had Harry’s favourite foods all over it.
Harry nodded and sat down on the sofa beside his father. He leant forward and grabbed put two pancakes on a plate with some fruit and a bit of maple syrup. He also poured himself a coffee before leaning back and noticing his father’s stare.
Harry huffed and stabbed at his food. “Would you stop with the staring?” he asked.
Sirius frowned. “I’ll stop staring when you tell me what’s really going on.”
Harry didn’t want to have this conversation. “Nothing, I told you I am fine. It was an unexpected imbalance in my teenage hormones, that is all.”
Sirius scoffed. “Don’t bullshit me.”
Harry took a bite of his food and then put the plate down on the table. “Dad, please.”
Sirius’ frown melted. Harry knew that when he called him ‘Dad,’ it struck something in him. He normally referred to his father as ‘father’; it was one of the things Walburga had instilled in him as a child. ‘Dad’ was whining and childish, ‘father’ was respectful and mature. Sirius had tried to encourage him to use ‘Dad’, but Harry had preferred ‘father’. Now, he used it as a tool of manipulation, not that anyone knew that.
Sirius nodded. “Fine, for today only.”
Harry agreed, only because he would be headed back to school on Friday, and he knew he could manage to avoid the topic until then.
“Now, let’s open some presents.” Sirius jumped up from his seat, threw the newspaper onto a spare chair and walked over to the tree. He gave Harry a cheeky smirk before picking up a medium-sized present and walked back over to give it to him.
For the next half hour, they exchanged gifts. Harry was given books on potions, ingredients —all of which he knew had been picked out by his mother—and magical beasts. There were a few prank items that he knew would most likely be stolen by Carlisle to use on his brother. His father also got him some new quidditch things, new padding and a broom polishing kit. All of it, he was grateful for, but the better part was watching his father’s eyes when he opened his own presents.
It had always amused Harry how childlike his father could be, Christmas day was probably when the child in him would shine the most, but his giddy laugh and wide smile was always infectious.
The rest of their morning was fun. They ate, talked, and played a prank on one of their house-elves. Harry was laughing harder than he had in a long time, slumped on the floor with his father. For a moment, he actually forgot about pretending and was genuinely happy. But their laughter faded as time went by, and before Harry realized it was time for them to go.
His father met him in the entrance hall with a bag in one hand; all of the presents for his mother, Harvey, Remus, and even James was inside but shrunken. Harry watched as his father paused, almost like he wanted to say something, but instead, he let out a sigh and placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. With a nod, the two of them were sucked away from White Oak and landed at a safe apparation point in Godric’s Hollow.
Godric’s Hollow was a quaint town, filled with plenty of witches and wizards, but many muggles too. The streets and houses were covered in a blanket of white snow, and Christmas decorations covered the outside of some homes as well as the lamp posts that lit the street.
Harry followed his father as they walked down the familiar road that led to the Potter’s house. When they reached the front gate, Harry paused as he took in the sight. Muggle Christmas lights were strung across the gutters of the home, and the yard was very much the same. The Potter’s home screamed Christmas cheer, and he had expected nothing less. His mother’s muggle Christmas traditions tended to get mixed in with the wizarding side of things.
Sirius stepped up and knocked. It took less than a moment for the door to swing open and see an overly excited and bouncing Harvey.
“Uncle Padfoot!” he cried. Harvey slung his arms around Sirius’ waist and grinning up at him. “Happy Christmas!”
Sirius chuckled and hugged him back. “Happy Christmas, buddy.”
Harvey stepped back and glanced at Harry. He said, “Happy Christmas, Harry.”
Harry forced a pleasant smile. “Happy Christmas to you too.”
Harvey’s grin only seemed to widen. He grasped Sirius’ hand and led them into the main living room where James and Remus were waiting. The room was warmed by the crackling fire, the floor was covered in wrapping paper and presents, a large tree was sitting in the corner of the room, and the semblance of the Potter’s breakfast was on the coffee table.
Remus stood and said, “Bout time you got here.”
Sirius smiled and hugged him. “Harry and I were enjoying some father-son bonding.”
“Is that so?” Remus stepped past Sirius to look at Harry. “What did he have you doing?”
Harry smiled at his godfather and shrugged. “Nothing he hasn’t done before.”
Remus laughed. “That is what concerns me.” He pulled Harry in for a hug. “Happy Christmas, pup.”
Harry nodded. “You too, Moony.”
“James, Happy Christmas,” said Sirius, holding out his hand.
James stood from the couch and took it. A tense smile on his family, but he nodded and returned the sentiment.
“Can we open more presents?” asked Harvey.
Sirius placed the bag he was carrying beside the Potter’s tree and asked, “What makes you think there are more presents?”
Harvey smirked and said, “Because I snuck a peek in your bag.”
Sirius chuckled. “Of course, you did.”
“Where’s mum?” asked Harry.
James nodded towards the kitchen. “She was getting some things prepped for lunch.”
Harry nodded and moved away from the living room. He walked towards the archway and caught the scent of fresh gingerbread. It was one of the many fond memories he had of Christmas; his mother always made the best cookies. He smiled as he spotted his mother humming some Christmas song as she stirred the pot on the stove and stared at the cookbook she was holding in her other hand.
“Happy Christmas, Mum,” he said.
Lily paused, and a wide smile lit up her face. She dropped the book and the spoon and rushed over to him, pulling him into a tight hug and kissing him on the cheek. “Happy Christmas, Harry.”
Harry felt warmth flood his chest as his mother’s affection. He let himself soak it in for a minute, burying his face in her red hair and inhaling the smell of mixed spices and apples. It was the type of feeling he always craved, something he felt he never got enough of.
Lily didn’t let him go. They stood there hugging, but she did ask, “How was your morning?”
He nodded against her shoulder. “It was good. Thanks for helping Father pick out those books.”
She chuckled. “You are welcome. Watching him stand in Flourish and Blotts was painful. He looked so lost and confused.”
Harry smirked. “I can only imagine.”
“Mum! Harry! Presents!”
Harvey’s voice popped their bubble, and Harry released his mother. He felt the warmth in his chest be nudged by annoyance for his brother; he couldn’t just let them be for once.
Lily pulled her wand from her boot and wave it over the kitchen. Dishes started washing themselves, the gravy on the stove was being stirred by the spoon, and knives were cutting up vegetables. She slid her wand away and took Harry’s hand before leading him back into the living room.
The presents that Sirius had bought were now sitting in small piles, and Harvey was bouncing in his spot beside James. Sirius was sitting in the armchair, and Remus was sitting beside Harvey.
Lily dropped Harry’s hand to hug Sirius before stepping over to the tree and pulling out more presents. “How wants to go first?” she asked.
Sirius sat forward. “Am I too old to say me?”
All at once, James, Remus, and Harry all said, “Yes.”
Sirius pouted, but Lily offered him a warm smile and handed him a present.
“From Harvey,” she said.
They went around the room, each taking turns opening their gifts. Harry stayed standing just behind the couch, watching as everyone open them. Harvey had just finished opening all of his and hadn’t put down the broom care kit that Harry had given him. It had been the most logical thing for him as Harry wasn’t really sure what else Harvey enjoy.
Lily bent down and picked up a present and walked over to Harry; she smiled and said, “From James and me.”
Harry smiled at her and took it. It was a book; that much was obvious from the feel and weight. He tore off the paper and smiled down at the muggle book. It was by Charles Dickens. When he was younger, Harry had listened to his mother read them to him before bed since the normal bedtime stories never worked. Dickens had been an author she had enjoyed so much as a child, and it seemed that enjoyment had been passed on. It had been a few years since Harry had read anything by Charles Dickens, but now, he had a brand-new copy of Great Expectations. It was one of the few books he hadn’t read, but he was definitely excited to do so.
“Thank you,” he said.
Lily smiled and grabbed another present and handed it to him. “From Remus.”
Harry took it and opened it. He was pleased to find a new leather note boot, new quills, and ink, and also a few more books. He thanked his godfather before being handed his last present.
Harvey had jumped up off the couch and grabbed it before Lily could. He smiled widely before holding it up and handing it to Harry. “From me.”
Harry took it. “Thank you.” He pulled off the paper and was surprised. It was a new chess set. “Wow,” he said. The board itself was dark wood with gold detailing. It was a very nice-looking board, and he wondered if Harvey had actually been the one to pick it.
Harvey beamed. “You like it?”
Harry nodded. “I do, thank you.”
“Perhaps we can play after lunch, pup,” said Remus.
Harry smiled and nodded. “As long as you’re prepared to lose.”
Remus laughed.
“Can I play too?” asked Harvey.
Harry paused but didn’t really answer. He shrugged his shoulders and placed the board down on the small side table where he had put his other gifts.
Lily interrupted the silence by clearing her throat and asking, “Do I get presents too?”
Sirius pushed himself to stand and walked over to the tree. “Harry, do you want to do it?”
Harry shook his head. “No, all yours.”
Sirius nodded and picked two presents off the floor. “This is from Harry.”
Lily smiled widely and took the present.
It had taken time for Harry to find his mother’s gift. He had looked at many different things but decided to keep it simple. During their last summer, Lily had taken him and Harvey on a picnic. It hadn’t been the best time of his life as Harvey seemed intent on being the centre of attention, but Lily had tried to get a photo of the two of them, but it had never happened. So, with the help of Snape, Harry had pulled a memory from his head and used it to create a photo.
Lily pulled the paper off the present, and her face was overjoyed, so much that a tear escaped from her eye. The picture in her hand showed Lily sitting on a picnic blanket, with Harry beside her and Harvey lying on the ground giggling.
She looked up from the picture and walked over to Harry. Lily hugged him and pressed a kiss to his head. “Thank you.”
Harry returned the hug and said, “You’re welcome.”
There weren’t many photos that contained both Harry and Harvey. There was lots of Harvey with both Lily and James, but Harry seemed to avoid being in photos with them. Lily had plenty of photos of herself with Harry or photos that Sirius had captured of him, but now she had a photo of both her boys.
The rest of the presents didn’t take long to open, and at that point, Harvey had raced James outside to play with a quaffle; Sirius and Remus were picking up the rubbish that was littering the floor, and Harry moved into the kitchen with Lily. The Weasley would normally arrive around one, and by then, they wanted to have the dining table set up.
Harry stood at the stove, doing as his mother told him but also watching as she moved towards the dining room. He watched as she applied an extension charm to the room before doing the same to the table and then multiply the chairs. The one six-seater table was now sat sixteen people comfortably.
“Mother, why so many extra chairs?” Harry asked. The Weasley were normally the only addition to the table.
Lily smiled. “James invited Frank and Alice Longbottom and their son, Neville—he’s in Harvey’s year.”
Harry frowned. More people he would need to deal with. He said, “Yes, I have heard of Neville Longbottom, has a habit of losing his pet toad.”
Lily shrugged and waved her wand across the table. Cutlery, plates, and glasses all made their way from the cupboards to the table, placing themselves perfectly. Christmas crackers also appeared along with candles to add some decoration.
“Perfect,” Lily muttered.
“Harry?” Remus’ voice called from the living room.
Harry paused his stirring and said, “In the kitchen.”
Remus stepped through the archway and held up Harry’s new chessboard. “Shall we?”
Harry smiled. “Is that alright?” He looked at Lily.
She nodded. “Of course, I release you from your kitchen duties.”
Harry followed Remus from the kitchen and was surprised when he led them towards the small library slash reading room attached to it. As he sat down, he watched as his godfather laid out the board before summoning his own pieces. Harry admired his new set and watched as they all moved to their places before waiting.
Remus nodded at him, and Harry went first.
“Pawn to E4.” The white pawn slid forward two spots. “Did my father ask you to talk to me?” asked Harry.
Remus didn’t hesitate. “Yes, he did. Pawn to E5.”
Harry wanted to be annoyed; his father had promised to leave it alone. Then again, he had asked his father not to talk about it. “I am fine; I don’t know why he insists on badgering me.”
Remus said, “Because I think we both know that while you are putting on a brave face, really underneath it all, you are struggling.”
Harry frowned. “Remus—”
“Woah, Remus? I really must have hit a nerve.” Remus smirked at him.
Harry rolled his eyes.
“You can be mad at me all you want, just because I can see straight through that façade.”
Harry asked, “Why does no one else?”
Remus ran his finger across his jaw. “Your father has somewhat. In fact, it doesn’t surprise me that he has been sensing your mood. After all, he used to do the exact same thing.”
“Really?”
Remus nodded.
Harry snorted. “These days, he doesn’t stop blabbering about how he feels.”
“He was also one to overshare. It really depended on the situation.” Remus moved his knight. “But stop trying to change the subject.”
Harry smirked. “You caught that too?”
Remus smiled. “You’re my godson; I know you better than you think. Now tell me, please.”
Harry didn’t really know what to say. Remus had always been there for him, trying to fill a whole they both knew he had. But Harry would hate to tell Remus that even after everything he had done for him, he wasn’t enough to make Harry feel whole.
“Having Harvey at Hogwarts is…” he faded off.
Remus clasped his hands together and said, “Annoying? Frustrating?”
“Among other things.” Harry moved his castle. “Before this year, I could go to Hogwarts and pretend that he didn’t exist. I was content, being Harrison Black, but now I have to keep an eye on Harvey because he seems insistent on getting himself in trouble.”
“Are you referring to his accusations about Severus?” asked Remus.
Harry nodded. “That and the troll incident.”
Harvey was making everything difficult. The past four years before he started were peaceful. And now he had to be responsible for him. How was that fair?
Harry continued, “And now he thinks that the object that Snape is after is the Philosopher’s Stone.”
Remus queried, “How did he get to that conclusion?”
Harry explained, “Hagrid let it slip that whatever is hidden in the school is between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel. He doesn’t know about the stone though, I figured that myself.”
“Why would Dumbledore be hiding such an object at Hogwarts?”
“Because he is insane?” offered Harry.
“Harry…”
“What? The man is strange, and who thinks that a school full of children is a suitable hiding spot?” And it was clear to Harry that the old man wasn’t too concerned about keeping the whole thing a secret; after all, it seemed Hagrid was just sharing everything with Harvey and his friends.
Remus said, “I’m sure there is more to the story than any of us would know.”
“Sure, there is.” Harry moved his knight.
Remus sat forward on his chair and looked away from the board. It seemed the game was going to be forgotten until Harry answered his real question. Remus clasped his hands together and said, “But again, changing the subject. If you don’t feel comfortable having your Mother ask you to do such things, then just tell her.”
Harry stared at him for a moment before dropping his face into his hands and letting out a huff. Sitting across from his godfather and seeing Remus’ eyes made Harry want to tell him the truth, explain what was going on in his mind. Out of all of the adults in his life, Remus would probably be the least affected by his truth; after all, regardless of the choices his friends had made in the past, his life wouldn’t be all that different.
It wasn’t like it was with his mother or father. His mother would have still had Harvey and been married to James. His father probably wouldn’t have a child and probably wouldn’t even be considering such a thing. Instead of being some awkwardly uncomfortable family that was forced to act like everything was okay, they all would have just been happy.
“Harry, please,” said Remus, pulling Harry from his thoughts. “Talk to me.”
Harry looked up and asked, “What would you have me say?” His voice cracked. “Do you want me to tell you that I hate having to be around Harvey? Or perhaps, you want me to tell you that I wish he had never been born?”
Remus frowned. “Don’t say what you don’t mean.”
Harry snapped. “But I do mean it!”
If Remus wanted to know the truth, then so be it.
“I hate my life,” said Harry. “I wish that I didn’t come from a broken home with a family that should never have existed in the first place.”
Remus reached for Harry’s arm, but he smacked it away. Harry turned away and caught the tears that had welled in his eyes and threatened to fall.
“Harry, the situation between your parents isn’t ideal. No one expects you to be happy that you have separated parents, but there is no changing what happened. We deal with what we have,” said Remus.
Harry shook his head. Remus was wrong. “I don’t have separated parents. That would mean that at some point, they would have had to have had a relationship, but there was no relationship that led to me. Just a bottle of fire whiskey and regrets.” He kicked at the table where the chess game sat; the force knocked the game onto the ground.
“Your conception may not have been planned, but your parents don’t regret having you,” exclaimed Remus.
“They do!” Harry yelled. “Because if they could go back and change their mistakes, then I would be a mistake they would change.”
Remus grabbed his shoulders. “Harry, your parents would never—”
Again, Harry smacked his hands away. “What? They would never change their lives. If my parents hadn’t been STUPID enough to have me, then you would all be blissfully happy with no issues. Mum wouldn’t have to worry about being torn between the two of us; Dad would have his best friend. I AM THE PROBLEM!”
As Harry yelled, he threw his hands in the air. A force shot through the small reading room and knocked every single book from the shelf and the pictures from the wall. The doors and windows rattled, and Remus froze.
“Harry…” Remus hadn’t seen such a thing happen from a wizard Harry’s age. Young children, toddlers, often experienced a burst of uncontrollable magic, but never that powerful and never from some Harry’s age.
The door to the room opened, and Lily stood there concerned. “What is going on?”
Remus didn’t speak; he was too busy staring at Harry in shock. Harry pushed past him and past his mother; he needed to get out of the house.
“Harry?” called Lily. “Harry, what’s wrong?”
Harry reached the front door and yanked it open; he couldn’t breathe.
“Harry, stop!” Lily wasn’t asking.
Harry paused as he reached the front gate, his hands gripping the white picket fence. His mother had everything she wanted; husband, son, and a house with a white picket fence. He was the thing that had ruined her perfect life; she didn’t have to tell him that. It was made clear because of Harvey, once he was born, she had no need for Harry. Tears pricked his eyes again and started to fall.
“Where are you going?” Lily asked. She was standing at the front door, her jaw clenched and her eyes concerned.
“Mum, what’s going on?” Harvey’s voice floated out of the front door. His footsteps followed, and he appeared beside Lily. “Harry? Where are you going?”
Harry’s shoulders tensed, and his fingernails dug into the white paint, staining it red as his fingers started to bleed from the pressure.
“The Weasley’s will be here soon; you can’t go yet,” said Harvey.
“Harvey, baby, just go back inside, please,” said Lily.
Harvey shook his head. “Harry needs to come too.”
Lily started, “I don’t think he is—”
“Come on,” said Harvey.
Harvey rushed away from Lily’s side towards Harry. When he reached him, he grabbed Harry’s sleeve and tried to pull him back towards the door. He tugged slightly, but Harry didn’t move.
“Harry, come on,” he whined.
Harry clenched his teeth and yanked his arm away from him. Harvey frowned and tried to grab him again, but Harry’s arm swung around in a swatting motion. It happened to fast for Harry to stop, but his magic reacted again. A burst shot out of his hand and lifted Harvey off the ground, and threw him across the yard. The loud thump of Harvey’s body hitting the ground and the scream from his mother that followed cracked something inside Harry.
He froze at the gate, watching as his mother dashed across the yard to Harvey, who wasn’t moving. Harry’s head was pounding, his heart thumping, and he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t understand what was happening, his magic was out of control, and he couldn’t stop the tears that were flooding down his cheeks.
Someone’s voice yelled for Lily. Then that same person yelled out Harvey’s name. Harry couldn’t tell who it was. The thumping in his head grew louder. Someone grabbed his arms and was shaking his shoulders, they were saying something, but he couldn’t tell what.
He didn’t want to be here, not now, not ever. He needed to get away; he needed to stop the thumping and needed whoever was yelling to stop. Harry grabbed at his hair; he wanted to scream at everything to just stop. But he also didn’t want to stay in Godric’s Hollow; he wanted to be anywhere, anywhere else.
A weird but familiar sensation rushed through Harry. His body was tugged roughly from his spot and twisted around before he landed with a hard thump on concrete. His body ached, and he felt sick rise in his throat. He couldn’t stop it, and he threw up on the ground he had landed on.
“Fleur, what is wrong with him?”
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