The Forbidden Four: Year One

Chapter Eighteen - A Very Merry Christmas

Chapter Eighteen - A Very Merry Christmas

     To say that Harry's christmas was better than Castor's would be the understatement of the century. His days were filled with snow ball fights, pumpkin pies, figuring out how to put a carrot into a snow man without breaking it's head in half. There was not a single dull day when it came to Hogwarts, especially not the holidays.

Peeves was pranking left and right, Hagrid was out of school grounds doing god knows what, and Dumbledore was really starting to feel the christmas spirit, and even asked McGonagall to dance the waltz with him to some slow Wizarding music in the Great Hall.

     Hogwarts was full of all the joy Harry had missed out on in life, and he couldn't be happier.

Ron started teaching Harry wizard chess, which was a lot harder than Ron made it out to be. You had to command the sentient pieces to move, and if they didn't like you (which was pretty much the case for Harry) then they wouldn't move at all.

     Harry thought the week couldn't get any better, until he found presents in his name when he woke up.

"Merry Christmas," Ron slurred out sleepily as he rubbed the exhaustion from his tired eyes. "You too," Harry said quickly, too focused on the many colorfully wrapped packages at the end of his bed. "Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"

     "What did you expect, turnips?" Ron asked, amused, as he turned to his much larger pile. I'd be shocked if I even got that much, Harry thought as he kneeled in front of them and picked out a horribly wrapped brown package that had Hagrid scribbled out on the front, when he shook it, whatever was inside jiggled, and when he opened it, it was revealed to be a hand-carved wooden flute that sounded a bit like an owl hooting when he blew it.

The second package was very small, not even big enough to fit a palm-sized book inside, and when he opened it he found a note that was clearly written in distaste. We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Harry pulled out a small, fifty dollar bill and tilted his head, "Well, that's friendly," he murmured. Ron looked absolutely fascinated as he stared at it. "Weird! What a shape! Is that money?" Harry laughed. "You can keep it," he said, then went on to count his presents.

     "Hagrid and my Aunt and Uncle -- so who sent these?"

Ron picked up a rather lumpy and soft package, "I think I know who this one's from," he said, blushing. "My Mom. I told her you didn't expect any presents and -- oh, no" he groaned, placing his burning face in his hands, now about as red as his hair. "She's made you a Weasley sweater."

     "A what?" Harry asked as he tore open the package. "A Weasley sweater," Ron repeated. "Every year she makes us a sweater," he said, unwrapping his own, "and mine's always maroon." Harry picked up his, which was a thick, soft, and fuzzy deep emerald green, packed with some homemade fudge.

"That's really nice of her," Harry said, stuffing a chunk of the creamy fudge in his mouth, which was very delicious.

     His next present was candy from Hermione, a large box of chocolate frogs, which he took thankfully and offered some up to Ron, who ate it greedily.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows at the last present and picked it up, it was very light and airy, like he was holding an empty package. He tore the paper off, and out slithered a fluid, silvery gray. . . blanket? It looked like. It lay in gleaming folds, sparkling in the light. Ron gasped and nearly dropped the chocolate frog in his hands.

     "I've heard of those," he said in a low voice, like they were discussing a top secret mission that nobody could know about. "If that's what I think it is -- they're really rare, and really valuable."