The Forbidden Four: Year One

Chapter Twenty - You Have "Erised" At Your Destination

Chapter Twenty - You Have "Erised" At Your Destination

     Christmas dinner was amazing, the Grand Hall filled with chatter and overflowing with joy that spilled from the students like sunshine. Mountains of potatoes, fried eggs, and cranberry sauce were spread around hundreds of plump, juicy turkeys, tender roast beef, platters of chipolatas; hills of buttered green peas, thick, creamy gravy filling sterling boats, and stacks upon stacks of wizard crackers lining every few feet of the long table which exploded wildly when Harry and Fred yanked at it, enveloping them in blue smoke.

Harry was having the time of his life, getting fuller and fuller by the minute, smiling and conversing with Ron like they hadn't spoken to anybody in the last four years.

     Flaming Christmas Pudding replaced the food, and Harry couldn't help but laugh when Percy nearly chipped a tooth on a silver sickle embedded in his own piece. Harry looked over and watched with amusement twinkling behind his spectacles as Hagrid's face began to turn a rosy red, accompanying the wine he was chugging like water, and then he placed a delicate kiss on Professor McGonagall's cheek, who, to his surprise, blushed and giggled like a school girl.

When Harry and Ron finally left the table in favor of their beds calling their names, they could hardly walk, Ron making a pained joke about Harry having to roll him up the steps. They watched in fascination as Percy chased the twins around the common room, yelling with a red face and throbbing veins about how they'd better give him back his Prefect badge.

     Nothing could beat this Christmas, and it was by far the best one Harry had ever had.

Ron was so tired that he fell asleep as soon as his head had hit the bed, forgetting to draw his curtains so Harry did it for him, before dropping down onto his own fluffy mattress and pulling out the invisibility cloak from under his bed, now free to think about it and observe it with nobody else awake.

     His heart ached dully at the knowledge that this had been his father's. His dad had held this in his hands, had used it at Hogwarts with his friends, no doubt. He wondered, if his parents were still alive, would he have received it earlier? Would he have grown up knowing all about magic, knowing of it's beauty and the euphoric feeling of holding a wand in his hand? Would he have gotten to experience something other than the pain of living with the Dursley's all his life, waiting on them hand and foot, arm and leg? Would he have gotten to be a big brother? Spending his days at Hogwarts with his siblings? Teaching them tricks with magic before they even held a wand?

He liked to think that in another universe, he was at home instead of at Hogwarts, eating a meal that his parents had made, opening presents with them and finding the invisibility cloak with them, throwing it over his shoulders and using it to scare his mother whenever she turned the corner. He had a feeling his dad would love that.

     But he didn't get that here. He didn't get to live in some fantasy, and his heart burned at the thought. Use it well, the note had said.

He had to try it now, to take his thoughts off the fact that his parents weren't here, and they were never going to be.

     Suddenly the drowsiness clouding his vision disappeared in an instant, and he was wide awake. He slipped the liquidy silk over his shoulders and looked over at Ron's drawn curtains, his slightly obnoxious yet comforting snoring filtering through the room. Should he wake him? Something told him not to. This was his father's cloak, and he felt like this time -- the first time -- he wanted to use it alone.

He tiptoed down the steps up to the Boy's Dormitory, across the common room, and swung the portrait open, climbing clumsily through the hole and almost tripping in his excitement.