The day they were due to take the Hogwarts Express back home began cold and cloudy, almost as if the weather sought to mirror the young Hufflepuff student's mood regarding the imminent reunion with his "darling" family. He still harboured doubts about whether he had made the right choice, and the owl he had sent them had yet to return with an answer, leaving him completely unaware of their reaction to his impending return. This lack of response certainly matched his apprehensive state of mind.
The rest of his friends and classmates, however, seemed overjoyed at the prospect of returning to their homes and seeing their families. Everywhere Harry looked, there was laughter, jokes, and excited expressions about the journey home. Anyone observing him might have thought he was being forced to remain at school, though perhaps his parents would have tried to ensure just that.
"Come on, Harry, the train leaves in forty minutes. We need to head to the entrance," Athenea said, smiling brightly. "Come on, cheer up! We're going home!"
"Yes, we're going home," he replied with a forced laugh.
His friend noticed the strain in his expression but said nothing, instead beginning to pull him towards the lobby and then out towards the station. Everywhere they turned, people were impatient to get home; some even grumbled about not being able to use a Portkey for a quicker return. Harry could barely bring himself to participate in the general excitement. He simply hoped his parents and brother would decide not to give him too hard a time while he was there, though he sincerely doubted it.
The journey, while filled with laughter for most of the students, proved quite uncomfortable for Harry. He didn't even know if anyone would be waiting for him; had they forgotten he was returning for Christmas? And if they hadn't forgotten, would his father come himself or send someone else? The answer became painfully clear the moment he stepped off Platform Nine and Three-Quarters with his friends: there, waiting at the station, was his godfather Sirius, wearing an annoyed expression. His father hadn't forgotten he was coming back today, but he hadn't wanted to come himself, sending Sirius instead—Sirius, who had clearly only come out of obligation to his father. Things were already off to a bad start.
"Have a lovely holiday, Harry," Hermione told him kindly.
"Yes, Merry Christmas, Harry," Neville added.
"We'll see you on the train back to Hogwarts," Malfoy said, a rare, almost neutral tone in his voice.
"See you after the holidays," Harry replied, bidding them farewell.
After the obligatory goodbyes, Harry walked over to his godfather, who stood there impatiently. Sirius merely gave him a curt nod as a greeting before turning and striding towards the exit, forcing Harry to follow. If he hadn't already been accustomed to such treatment, he would have felt deeply hurt by his godfather's lack of welcome. But, based on his past experiences, he simply ignored it. What did it matter if his godfather said nothing to him? As far as Harry could remember, Sirius had paid him very little attention throughout his life, and even when he did acknowledge Harry's presence, he never seemed to know how to behave around him.
"Hold on tight. I'm Apparating us to your house, so grab your things, lest you leave them here."
"Yes, Uncle Sirius," Harry murmured, gripping both his godfather's arm and his trunk tightly.
After the dizzying sensation of dissolving in one place only to re-form in another, Harry found himself standing at the door of his house. If he had been any other child, he surely wouldn't have remained on the doorstep for two seconds before rushing inside. But Harry was not a normal child, and for this reason, he waited patiently with Sirius for his parents to open the door.
It was his mother who opened the door, smiling warmly. Harry's heart leaped. Had she missed him? The answer came immediately: her smile wasn't for him, but for Sirius. In fact, she didn't even seem to notice he was there. He watched as his mother took his godfather by the arm and led him towards the living room. With a sad sigh, Harry began to haul his trunk to his room; it was probably best for him to stay there until one of his parents acknowledged his presence.
"So, you've come."
The boy startled at the unexpected voice of his brother. He hadn't thought Brian would even bother to speak to him, and the fact that he did worried Harry; it meant Brian would either tease him or try to hurt him.
"I was hoping you'd realise it was best for you to stay at school... but it's obvious you haven't. Don't you understand you're not welcome?"
"I'll be clear, Brian, I would have stayed at Hogwarts, but I wanted to see Uncle Remus," Harry said calmly before continuing on his way.
Harry knew Brian had tried to hurt him, to inflict as much damage as possible... and by Merlin, he didn't want Brian to see how much his words had truly stung. So, without paying attention to his brother's hateful glare, he retreated into his room, which appeared to be exactly as he had left it. Evidently, his protective spells had successfully saved his belongings from Brian's meddling.
He began to unpack his luggage slowly, carefully handling the various potions he had been studying and experimenting with. Then, he placed his books on his shelf with the help of his elemental control over wind, making the process much faster and more precise. He was about to start putting away his clothes when he noticed his father approaching his room at a brisk pace. With a sigh, Harry stopped using his elementary magic and resumed unpacking by hand. His father didn't even knock; he simply entered as if it were nothing, for him, the idea that Harry might require privacy was practically inconceivable.
"I see you've already unpacked your luggage," he said by way of greeting. "This way it will take you less time. As soon as you're done, I want to speak with you in the living room."
The living room? That was unexpected; Harry had thought his father would want to talk to him in his office. Well, it wasn't his problem; it just meant his father wanted everyone to hear him, and Harry assumed it was to make him feel uncomfortable... not that it would actually achieve that.
As he had anticipated, both his parents, his brother, and Sirius were in the living room. Not bad, he thought. If they wanted to be there, he wasn't going to stop them. He sat down on one of the sofas and waited for his father to begin the conversation.
"Well... I suppose this year would have been good for you so far. But if I'm not mistaken, you have something to show me."
"Yes, of course," Harry said, rather timidly.
"They've gone badly for you, haven't they?" his father said, smiling. "I knew it wasn't a good idea to try and teach you all the material for a year in such a short time. If it had been Brian, fine, but you..."
"James, please..." his mother interjected.
"Lily, I'm not saying anything bad. All right, he's not a Squib like we thought, and all right, he's better at magic than the rest of his classmates... but try to get him to skip a year? Lily, for Merlin's sake, Harry is a normal child, there's nothing special about him."
"He didn't know the teachers wanted him to skip a year..." Sirius said, surprised.
"Yes, they wanted to, but to do so, he first had to learn the first-year material, and I don't think he's passed his exams. Well, can you give me your marks?"
Harry handed him the scroll with his grades and waited for his father's response. It hurt so much that his father didn't believe in him; for him, only Brian was perfect. It had always pained Harry to see how they differentiated between them, but how could he fight against a prophecy? It was useless.
"What the hell...? You've passed everything?" his father asked, dumbfounded.
"What is that?" the others exclaimed in unison.
"Everything is passed, and with good grades. Transfiguration: Outstanding, Charms: Outstanding, Herbology: Outstanding, Defence Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding, Astronomy: Outstanding, History of Magic: Outstanding, Potions: Outstanding with a Special Commendation, and Flying: Distinction with an Exceptional Grade."
Harry said nothing, after all, it wasn't as if he could justify anything. He had done what he had to do and knew that Remus would be proud of him, which was what truly mattered. As for the others, he had learned it was better to ignore them; they would never see beyond the prophecy. Without another word, he handed them the parchment with the material he would need for the second year, and after that, he got up and returned to his room.
Over the next few days, his parents made no attempt to approach him. Whether it was because they didn't know how to react or because they were upset, Harry couldn't tell. They were seen only during meals, which always proved tense and complicated. For the rest of the day, Harry remained locked in his room, researching how he might improve the Wolfsbane Potion... it had to be possible to achieve in some way. In fact, there was no interaction between the boy and his family until they were preparing for Christmas Eve dinner... or rather, until Remus arrived to spend both Christmas Eve and Christmas with his friends and their families.
"Can I come in?" the werewolf asked after knocking on the closed door.
"Of course, Uncle Remus... come in."
"I see you're busy."
And so he was. Harry at that moment was hunched over his desk, writing furiously on his parchment. The werewolf couldn't quite understand what he could be writing, since, obviously, his teachers hadn't given him any homework; all of them believed he had already done more than enough by learning a year's curriculum in just three months. What Remus didn't know was that the boy was making calculations, hypotheses, and analyses to see if he could begin his study and improvement of the Wolfsbane Potion.
"Just a little, but nothing for you," Harry laughed.
"You've quite messed up your parents' mental structure," Remus said happily. "Your father is absolutely lost, and your mother is the same."
"What do you mean?"
"Not much, just that they never expected you to turn out to be such a powerful wizard, nor so intelligent," the adult explained. "When I arrived, your parents questioned me for at least twenty minutes about whether I knew of your abilities and why I hadn't told them."
"And what did you tell them?" Harry asked curiously.
"Ahhh... that their duty as parents was to have realised that themselves, not for the rest of us to tell them. I don't think that was the answer they expected."
That made Harry laugh. He had always liked his Uncle Moony, as he used to call him as a child; he was the quietest of the Marauders, and for that reason, more similar to Harry himself. The fact that Remus's condition had made him vulnerable and subject to the systematic rejection of a psychologically fragile society resonated with Harry, as the way his own parents treated him was quite similar in its disregard. The need for each other had given them strength, which was just what they needed.
"Come on, let's go downstairs. Christmas Eve dinner is waiting for us... and we must admit your mother is a very good cook... She makes a mouth-watering beef roast!"
Harry laughed again, though this time with less intensity. Yes, his mother's food was good, but his presence still felt unwanted or forgotten, and he didn't like that much. He sighed. He liked Uncle Remus, very, very much, and truly thought it would have been best if he had stayed at Hogwarts.
The dinner was exactly as he had imagined: uncomfortable. His parents had decided to ignore him, and his brother gave him resentful looks. His godfather and his wife, Odrey, for their part, looked at him as if he were a laboratory specimen to study. Luckily, their son Mark was too young to notice. It was also quite remarkable how uncomfortable Harry became by the end of dinner, when he literally ran to hide himself in his room, not emerging for the rest of the evening, though he could clearly hear them enjoying themselves without him. The best thing was that the next day he didn't even make an appearance, although he knew Remus would come for him.
The next morning, Harry was awakened by the enthusiastic shouts of Brian and Mark as they saw the various gifts. He was about to turn over and go back to sleep when Remus stood in front of his door and knocked. Harry sighed; he knew Remus was coming for him.
"Yes? What do you want, Uncle Remus?" he asked without even getting out of bed.
"Harry, we're waiting for you downstairs," Remus replied, still without entering the room.
"You know that's not true," the boy affirmed. "They don't even acknowledge me. We have this talk every year."
"And every year you end up going down... Do it for me."
"Alright."
Five minutes later, Harry emerged from his room and began to make his way downstairs with Remus at his side. The sight that greeted them was not unexpected: Brian and Mark were tearing open their presents as if it weren't even morning, paying no attention to anything else, while the adults watched them with amused expressions. Harry sighed before approaching where Remus's gift lay, in a small corner almost forgotten by everyone, and he stopped dead; there was more than one gift... several more.
With a happier expression than he had worn on any other Christmas, he sat on the floor and picked up the first one: it was from Draco.
"Hey! Don't touch my presents!" Brian's voice pulled him out of his reverie; his brother looked at him furiously.
"It's not yours... it's for me."
"Return your brother's gift," his father said angrily.
"But it's not his! It's mine! Look!" Harry exclaimed, showing his father the label. "To Harry. It's mine!"
"Who's going to give you a gift?" Brian said, annoyed. "You've never been given anything... Obviously, it's a mistake." After that, he snatched the package from him and was about to unwrap it when Remus took it from him.
"Uncle Moony! It's my gift!"
"I'd say not."
"Moony, what are you doing? Why are you taking the gift?" James asked angrily. "Anything addressed to Harry is a mistake; you should return it to Brian."
"Unless Brian has made new friends without anyone's knowledge, it's not a mistake."
"What nonsense are you talking about, Remus?" Lily retorted.
"On this card, it clearly says: 'To Harry, from Draco.' Brian, do you know any Draco?" The silence provided the answer. "That's what I thought. Open your gifts, Harry."
"Harry doesn't know any Draco either!" Brian exclaimed angrily.
"Yes, I do know him. Draco, Athenea, Jonathan, Hermione, Terry, Neville, Fred, and George are my friends... my friends at Hogwarts."
Brian could complain, get angry, throw a tantrum, but his parents couldn't take Harry's gifts from him; those gifts were from his friends, not his, and there was nothing they could do.
Harry, for his part, laughed happily at his uncle, while picking up Draco's gift and opening it carefully. He hadn't noticed, but the attention of everyone present was now centred on him, eager to discover what his gifts contained. Once the wrapping paper was off, the boy found a box of a certain size, not very big, almost like a shoe box, but somewhat more square. He lifted the lid and let out a shout of pure delight: inside was a black kitten that looked up at him with innocent blue eyes.
He took the kitten into his arms and hugged it, smiling as he remembered how Draco knew of his passion for cats... Harry had found himself practically cooing to Athenea's kitten, which he had lost and then found. It had been the first and only time he had ever told anyone how much he loved those animals, and Draco had remembered.
Placing the kitten on his lap, he reached for the next gift, which turned out to be Terry's: there wasn't much to think about, it was a book on advanced Transfiguration. Hermione's was also a book, this one on advanced Potions. Neville had sent him a small assortment of potion ingredients. From Fred and George, he received a package full of jokes, and from Athenea and Jonathan, he received a gift set: a silver necklace in the shape of a phoenix, which reminded the boy a lot of his tattoo. Jonathan must have gone through several shops until he found it. Only Remus's gift remained, which he opened with enthusiasm; it was a book. When he saw it, he started laughing; it was a book about spells such as 'Butterfingers', 'Jelly-Legs Jinx', or 'Bat-Bogey Hex'. He was going to have fun learning how to cast them.
After that, after thanking Remus for his gift, he gathered his various presents and returned to his room. He was in a very good mood; his friends had done well with the gifts (all right, except Fred and George, but even their jokes would have a use) and he hoped that his own gifts had been just as successful. But first things first, he had to put a protective spell on his new pet, otherwise, Brian would ensure that in a short time, Harry would no longer have it.