Harry Potter and the Enemy Within

Chapter 5 - Christmas at the Weasleys'

CHAPTER 5: Christmas at the Weasleys’

At last it was time to leave for the Christmas holiday. Everyone was in high spirits and Harry managed to forget his worries as the train carried Ron, Hermione and him to London where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley met them at the station. Mrs. Weasley hugged each of them in turn. Then they all piled into the Ministry car Mr. Weasley had borrowed and headed for Ottery St. Catchpole.

It was dark when they arrived at the Burrow. Fred and George were in the garden demonstrating some of their more spectacular inventions to Charlie who had just arrived that morning from Romania. Their oldest brother was clearly impressed with the twins’ entrepreneurial talents and success.

“And to think Mum didn’t want us to open a joke shop,” Fred said innocently as soon as he was sure his mother could hear him.

“As long as you’re making an honest living,” Mrs. Weasley sniffed. “It would be nice if you were home once in a while, though, instead of wandering in at all hours. I swear you practically live at that shop.”

“Mum, you know we’ve been over this,” George said. “Fred and I have to keep ahead of the competition and the only time we have to develop new products is after hours.”

“Yes, well, to each his own I suppose. It’s your business.”

“Yes, it is and business is booming,” Fred said. “We’ve hired a fellow to help us out through the holidays, but even so, we can barely keep up with demand.”

“Do you think you’ll need help over the summer?” Ron asked, jumping into the conversation. “I could use a paying job.”

“And what, pray tell, do you need money for, little brother?” Fred asked.

“Not more Chudley Cannons memorabilia, surely?” George asked.

“I know, he must want to stock up on all our Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and reckons he’ll get a discount if he’s working for us,” Fred continued.

“Nah, he knows we wouldn’t be that generous,” George said. “But, you know I do believe he might have a new passion.”

“No!” Fred said feigning astonishment. “Not something above Quidditch, surely!”

“Yes!” George insisted. “I’ve heard it from a very reliable source. Our little Ronniekins has been smitten by the fairer sex.”

“What, our baby brother?” Fred asked. “Ah, they grow up so fast.”

“Will you two shut it!” Ron said, blushing furiously.

“Oh, I think we hit a nerve,” George said gleefully.

“Hermione, can it be true?” Fred asked. “We hear you actually fancy this poor, pathetic, excuse for a male.”

“And you always seemed like such a bright young woman,” George added.

“Leave her alone!” Ron said angrily. “You want to act like prats to me that’s one thing, but you’re not going to treat Hermione that way!”

“Ron!” Hermione said in exasperation.

“What? I’m defending you!”

Fred and George burst out laughing.

“Blimey Ron, you really are in a state!” Fred was clearly amazed.

“Listen mate,” George said, putting an arm around Ron’s shoulder. “This is how it is, all right? Hermione here has been like family for quite a while now in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Not to mention being our potential future sister-in-law,” Fred added with a wink.

“And we take great offense at the suggestion that we shouldn’t treat her as such,” George said.

“Only a complete dolt wouldn’t know we’re joking, after all,” Fred said pointedly.

“Furthermore –”, George began.

“Furthermore,” Hermione interrupted him. “While chivalry is nice in a quaint sort of way, I’m more than capable of handling these two if they get too cheeky, so I don’t need you defending me.”

Ron seemed to deflate, but the twins grinned delightedly.

“There, you see,” Fred told Ron. “Hermione’s not fussed. Now, why don’t we all go in and see when mum’s going to have dinner ready?”

“And while we wait, there are some fascinating stories we could tell, Fred,” George offered.

“Excellent idea, George!” Fred agreed. “Not to mention, we’ve got some charming family photos Hermione really ought to see before making any firm plans for the future.”

Ron paled. “You wouldn’t?”

“Ron,” George said, sounding wounded. “How can you ask such a question? Of course we would.”

“Come along Hermione, m’dear,” Fred said offering Hermione his arm.

“We’ll tell you all about our little brother,” George said taking her arm on the opposite side.

Hermione shot Ron a mischievous grin. “Why not?”

The three of them marched off towards the house arm in arm, the twins already regaling Hermione with tales of Ron’s misspent babyhood.

“I should have stayed at school,” Ron said miserably. “What was I thinking?”

“It’s all right Ron,” Harry said sympathetically. “Come on. Let’s go in and see what everyone else is doing.”

***

The next few days were a blur of activity. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny helped Mr. Weasley put up the Christmas tree. Harry was thrilled, having never had a proper Christmas himself. Mr. Weasley was delighted by his enthusiasm and told him the history of every ornament along with stories of past Christmases. He even showed Harry how to create tiny little flickering lights on the tree branches. The whole effect was enchanting, far nicer than the garish fake tree the Dursleys hauled out of the attic every year. Next, they went to work on the house. They hung wreaths in the windows and mistletoe in the doorway, something that made Ron blush.

Mrs. Weasley busied herself cleaning and baking what seemed to be an endless stream of pies and puddings for various friends and relatives. Charlie obligingly took these into the village to be posted. This was a relief to Harry, who was certain that there was no way Errol could survive delivering so many parcels.

The twins weren’t around much, busy as they were with the Christmas rush at their shop. But when they were there, they could usually be found in some out of the way spot conspiring in hushed voices with all the family photo albums spread around them. They wouldn’t say what they were doing, but Harry suspected it was something to embarrass Ron.

On Christmas Eve, Bill arrived with Fleur Delacour.

“’Ello,” Fleur said, greeting everyone. “Ron, ‘Arry. ‘Ow nice to see you both again.” Harry noticed that Ron showed not the slightest trace of the crush he’d had on the young woman two years previously. Hermione must have noticed too, because she greeted Fleur warmly.

“I don’t suppose Percy’s coming,” Harry asked Ron quietly.

“No,” Ron replied in an equally low voice. “He’s still not really speaking to Mum and Dad. I think he’s too proud to admit how wrong he was in following that i***t Fudge! Mum tries to pretend she doesn’t mind, but I know she does, especially at Christmas when everyone else is here. At least he didn’t send his jumper back this year, that’s something.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen.

They all filed into the kitchen which seemed to have been stretched a bit to accommodate everyone and sat down to one of Mrs. Weasley’s exceptional meals. By the time dinner was over, Harry was completely stuffed. He helped clear the table then slipped away and went out in the garden. The night was cold and clear. Harry brushed snow off a bench and sat down to stare up at the stars twinkling above him. He could hear voices and laughter coming from the house behind him and couldn’t remember when he’d ever felt this content.

“Are you all right?”

Harry started. He hadn’t heard Ginny come up behind him.

“I’m fine. I was just warm, so I thought I’d come outside.”

“I always like sitting out here, too,” Ginny said as she sat down next to him. “It’s so peaceful. You can forget all your troubles.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “So, any idea what Fred and George are up to with those old photos?”

“No, but it’s bound to embarrass Ron, whatever it is. They’ve been giving him an awfully bad time.”

“Yeah, but I think Hermione’s enjoying it.”

Ginny laughed. “She is. She says Ron deserves it for being so defensive.”

“He’s got it bad, that’s for sure,” Harry said, smiling.

“Are you okay with that?”

“Of course. I think it’s terrific.”

“I only ask because for a while you were looking pretty depressed around them.”

“Well, it took some getting used to,” Harry admitted. “But it’s okay now. Who are you seeing these days, by the way?”

“I’m taking a break at the moment,” Ginny said. “What with Quidditch and OWLs coming up, I don’t really have the time for boys right now.”

Harry nodded. He could certainly understand that.

“So, how about you?” Ginny asked. “Do you fancy anyone, Harry?”

Harry laughed. “Me? I haven’t even had the chance to think about it. Besides, I spend all my free time with Snape.”

Ginny grimaced. “How’s that going, anyway?”

“Some days I think I’m making progress. Other days I’m sure I’ll never manage it.”

“How’s Snape though? It must be dreadful studying with him all the time.”

“It’s not that bad,” Harry said quickly, not wanting Ginny to feel sorry for him. A moment later he realized it was true.

“It was at first,” Harry said more slowly. He’d never really thought about what his lessons with Snape were like. “But I think we’ve sort of got used to each other. In a way…”

Harry broke off, not certain he should finish that thought, but Ginny pursued it.

“In a way, what?”

“Sometimes it’s easier being with him than anyone else.”

Ginny looked at Harry in surprise. “Why?” she asked, clearly perplexed.

“Because I don’t have to pretend that I’m okay when I’m not. I don’t have to explain anything. There are some things I just can’t talk about, Ginny. It’s too hard right now and the more everyone worries about me, the harder it gets. Snape doesn’t feel sorry for me or worry about me.”

Ginny nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose that makes sense. Just remember that you’ve got lots of friends, Harry, and we’re all here if you do need us.”

Harry smiled. “I know, and believe me, I’m grateful for that. I don’t know what I’d do without all of you. I really appreciate your mum and dad having me for Christmas.”

“Harry, you know you’re part of the family. We’d have invited you before if we could have. This year Mum absolutely put her foot down with Dumbledore and insisted you come. She said it was positively cruel to leave you alone at school.”

Harry laughed again. “I think ‘cruel’ is going a bit far.”

“Well, Mum can be a bit dramatic,” Ginny said, laughing as well. “She’s right, though. No one should have to be alone at Christmas.”

Harry glanced sharply at Ginny. He knew she was thinking of him, but her words had brought different memories to mind.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go back inside.”

They found everyone in the front room where Fred and George were telling some apparently hilarious story. Mrs. Weasley was beaming at them all, clearly delighted at having so many of her children at home again.

Ginny started to join the gathering but paused when Harry headed for the stairs instead.

“Harry, where are you going?”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said and hurried upstairs.

In Ron’s room Harry dug through his trunk until he found parchment and a quill, then sat down to write. And stopped. He had no idea what to say. Actually, he had no idea why he even felt compelled to do this except that Ginny was right. No one deserved to be alone on Christmas. He knew all too well what that felt like; he remembered all the Christmas mornings that he’d sat forgotten while Dudley opened mounds of presents. But he remembered other Christmases too, in a home that lacked even the trappings of Christmas and was bereft of any love or joy. Harry took a deep breath. He was probably going to be sorry for this, but at the moment he didn’t care. He started to write.

Professor,

Just wanted to let you know I’ve settled in here at the Weasleys. I’ve been going through the exercises you taught me, but it’s not the same as having someone to actually practice with. I suppose it’ll be all right though. See you next term.

Harry Potter

P.S. – I hope you have a happy Christmas.

Harry folded up the letter before he could think better of it and reached for Hedwig who was perched on top of her cage watching him.

“Here you go, girl,” Harry said, tying the note to his owl’s leg. “Make sure this gets to Hogwarts tomorrow morning.”

Hedwig hooted her consent and sailed out the window.

Harry watched her go, then let out a deep breath. He frowned at his own foolishness. There was absolutely no reason to be so nervous. It was just a simple letter. He shut the window and went back downstairs. Mr. Weasley was passing around eggnog and hot, spiced cider. Hermione was deep in conversation with Bill and Fleur about their work, so Harry went to join Ron and Ginny who were playing chess. Ron was obviously having trouble concentrating though, since Fred and George wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Do you play chess with Hermione much, Ron?” Fred asked innocently, pitching his voice so that no one beyond the chessboard would hear him.

“Oh, I bet they play everyday,” George said equally quietly. “So, do you checkmate her most of the time, Ron, or does she often checkmate you? Or would you say it’s usually more of a draw?”

“I’m sure Hermione knows her way around a chessboard,” Fred said. “I bet you’ve got to be in top form to keep her from trouncing your king.”

“Will you two shut it!” Ron whispered furiously.

“Checkmate,” Ginny said.

“What!” Ron looked at the board in disbelief then threw his brothers another angry look. The twins only grinned happily at him.

“Why don’t we all play a game of Exploding Snap?” Ginny offered.

“Yeah, come on, that’d be fun,” Harry agreed.

“Sounds good to us,” Fred and George agreed.

Ron was not so easily placated. “Only if these two agree to keep their mouths shut.”

“What is there to say about Exploding Snap?” George asked, unable to keep from grinning.

Ron looked ready to launch himself across the table at his brother when Hermione interrupted them.

“Mind if I play, too?” she asked.

“That would be great,” Harry said quickly. Hermione smiled at him and Harry knew that she had heard more of the conversation than either Ron or the twins realized. They all settled down to play and with Hermione present the twins gave up tormenting Ron. They stayed up quite late playing games and talking, but eventually they all made their way to bed.

***

Harry awoke to pounding on the bedroom door. He sat up and reached for his glasses just as Fred stuck his head into the room.

“Oy, you two! We’re not going to wait all morning for you. Come on, there are presents to open.”

Harry and Ron didn’t need any more encouragement. They jumped out of bed and followed Fred downstairs where everyone else was beginning to gather around the tree in their dressing gowns. It was a glorious, bright morning and Harry could see blindingly white snow and clear blue sky out the window. Mr. Weasley positioned himself closest to the tree, beaming, and Harry thought the man couldn’t have looked more excited if he’d been a small child and all the presents were for him.

“Merry Christmas, everyone!” Mr. Weasley said, fairly bursting with delight. His mood was infectious and Harry found himself grinning in anticipation as Mr. Weasley began handing out presents.

Everyone got a Weasley jumper, of course. Fleur had brought French pastries for everyone, complete with preservative charms to keep them fresh. Charlie brought dragon tooth charms for everyone except Mrs Weasley, of course, to whom he gave a lovely Romanian scarf. The twins gave Ron and Harry enough of their Weasley Wizarding Wheezes to wreck serious havoc at school, which delighted the boys, though Mrs. Weasley was clearly unhappy. Mr. Weasley opened his gift from the twins and stared at it in confusion.

“Er, ah, what is it?” he finally asked.

“It’s a toaster, Dad,” Fred told him.

“A Muggle invention,” George added.

Mr. Weasley’s eyes lit up. “Really!” he asked excitedly. “How does it work? Does it need eklectricity?” He looked as if he might jump up and run out to his workshop at that very moment, but Mrs. Weasley stopped him.

“Arthur, you can look at it later. There are still presents to open.”

“Right, of course Molly,” Mr. Weasley said, reluctantly setting the toaster aside. But Harry noticed him give it a surreptitious pat before turning his attention back to the Christmas tree.

“Open yours, Mum,” George said, indicating a large gift.

Mrs. Weasley opened the package and gasped. It was a set of dress robes, elegant and obviously expensive.

“Fred, George, this cost far too much money!”

“No, it didn’t,” Fred said. “We told you, Mum, business has been good.”

“Besides, we’ve got nothing else to spend our money on,” George said.

“Hermione, that one’s yours,” Fred continued before his mother could say anything else.

Hermione tore the paper off her gift and found a large scrapbook. She opened it and grinned. “This is wonderful!”

“What is it?” Ron asked suspiciously.

“That, little brother, is a compilation of the highlights of your life from birth ‘til the present,” George said.

“What!”

Ron shoved a pile of discarded paper and boxes aside and leaned over to see Hermione’s gift. He let out a choked scream and tried to snatch it out of Hermione’s hands.

“Ron, stop that!” Hermione said, gripping the book tightly.

“You can’t look at that!”

“It’s my gift!”

“They’re my pictures!”

Harry had leaned over to look at the album as well. On the first page was a picture of a baby with wispy red hair who couldn’t have been more than six months old. He was cooing happily and sucking on his toes. He was also completely naked. Harry couldn’t help himself. He laughed.

“Oh, right! Some best friend you are!” Ron said indignantly.

“Ronald Weasley! Stop that this instant!” Mrs. Weasley scolded coming over to settle the confrontation. She glanced down at the album.

“Oh, I haven’t seen that picture in ages!” she said. “How precious! Arthur, you should come and see this.”

Ron buried his head in his hands and groaned miserably.

“Don’t worry, Ron,” Fred said. “It’s not all pictures. We included all sorts of stuff.”

“Yeah,” George said. “We even found that poem you wrote about your teddy bear when you were six.”

“Molly, we do still have presents to open,” Mr. Weasley said to his wife who was still beaming at the baby picture of her youngest son.

“Oh, of course dear,” Mrs. Weasley answered. “I’m sorry.”

With a sympathetic smile at Ron, Mr. Weasley quickly handed around the next presents.

***

Christmas morning at Hogwarts found all of the castle’s current residents seated around one large round table in the Great Hall. Dumbledore was wearing rather unusual red and gold robes which depicted various miniature Christmas scenes that actually moved. Here, children were sledding down a hill in the falling snow; over there, others were opening gifts by a tree. On his right sleeve there were carolers singing softly. He seemed delighted with his attire and chatted amiably with everyone including two rather awed first years to whom he was relating some long ago Christmas tale.

Professor Sprout had received a new scarf from her daughter and was proudly showing it off to everyone. Professor McGonagall was reading a lengthy roll of parchment she had received from her sister. She was chuckling to herself but occasionally burst into a full-throated laugh.

“Oh Minerva, honestly!” Snape finally said in exasperation. He was seated directly to her right and scowled at her over his copy of the Daily Prophet. “I’m trying to read.”

“Severus, can’t you dispense with that depressing news for one morning?” McGonagall replied equally exasperated but still in high spirits. She returned to her letter, and to chuckling. Snape rolled his eyes and buried himself behind his paper.

Just then a snowy white owl flew in and landed gracefully in the middle of the table. Everyone except Snape looked up. The owl hopped up to the Potions Master, ruffled her feathers and hooted softly. Snape ignored her. She c****d her head to one side, doing an excellent job of looking affronted, then bit Snape on the finger.

“Ow!”

Snape started and looked up from his newspaper to meet the owl’s stern gaze.

“What?”

“It’s customary to remove the letter, Severus,” McGonagall said dryly. “Or would you like me to do it for you?”

Snape glared at his colleague and retrieved the note from Hedwig.

“Isn’t this Potter’s owl?” McGonagall asked, reaching out to stroke the bird.

“Indeed she is,” Dumbledore answered coming up behind Snape to give Hedwig a bit of toast. “Hello, Hedwig. What brings you to us this fine Christmas morning?”

The question was addressed to Hedwig, but all eyes were on Snape who had read the note, turned it over to glance at the back then read it again, frowning.

“Is something wrong?” Dumbledore asked, a smile playing on his lips as he glanced at the letter over Snape’s shoulder.

“No,” Snape answered. He was clearly perplexed.

“Well, what is it then?” McGonagall asked.

“Nothing,” Snape said looking up at her in annoyance. “The boy doesn’t say anything at all.”

“He didn’t send you a blank piece of parchment, Severus. It must say something.”

“Nothing of importance,” Snape said with his customary sneer. He tossed the letter to McGonagall, who picked it up and read it. Something flickered in her eyes but was gone before Snape could identify it and when she next spoke her voice was very controlled and she wasn’t looking at him.

“Well, clearly Mr. Potter needs some sort of reassurance. You should write to him immediately.”

“What?” Snape snatched the letter back and read it once more wondering if there were some hidden message he’d somehow missed. No, it was the same utterly mundane drivel he’d read a moment ago.

“You’re joking,” Snape said incredulously.

McGonagall fixed him with her most imposing Deputy Headmistress stare. “It’s only polite, Severus.”

A piece of parchment and quill appeared at Snape’s elbow. He looked up to find Dumbledore smiling at him benignly. “I always carry some with me, just in case.”

Snape took the parchment and glanced at the rest of those seated at the table. He was relieved to find that the other teachers looked as confused as he felt. McGonagall hadn’t taken her eyes off him though.

“Fine. What would you suggest I say? ‘So nice to hear from you. Keep in touch.’?”

“If that’s the best you can come up with,” McGonagall said ignoring Snape’s sarcasm.

Snape snorted and picked up the quill.

“There’s no need to rush, Severus,” Dumbledore said. “I’m sure Hedwig doesn’t mind resting here for a bit.” He stroked Hedwig who nipped affectionately at his thumb. “And I doubt Harry is waiting around for a reply. He’s on holiday, surrounded by his friends. I’m sure he has a thousand things to keep him busy.”

Snape frowned slightly and glanced back down at Potter’s letter then up at all the expectant faces watching him. This was definitely not the place for correspondence. He gathered his things and stood up.

“Hedwig will be in my office when you need her,” Dumbledore said.

“Yes, Headmaster.”

Snape retreated to his office and read Potter’s note yet again even though he could already recite it from memory. It simply made no sense. Dumbledore was right. The boy surely had any number of things he’d rather be doing than writing to school, especially something this banal.

Not that he could think of anything better to write, Snape had to admit. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d written anything but professional correspondence. He was quite good at that. It had a purpose. But mindless pleasantries had never been his forte. When he tried to write them he wound up sounding like… well, like Potter’s note, forced and self-conscious. Well, he wasn’t going to do it. If Minerva wanted him to reply to Potter’s insipid letter, he’d give the boy something to remember.

***

It had been a perfect day, easily the best of Harry’s life. After opening presents they’d had a wonderful breakfast that included Fleur’s French pastries. Then they’d gone out to play a game of Quidditch that even managed to take Ron’s mind off Hermione’s scrapbook. Bill and Charlie were amazing flyers and the game was nearly as exciting as the ones Harry played at school. In the afternoon they’d sat by the fire and played chess and Exploding Snap. Every time Harry turned around, Mrs. Weasley seemed to be handing him something to eat, so by the time dinner was announced he was already half-full. But what a dinner it was.

The table was laid with a simple white cloth, most of which was hidden beneath an impressive feast. There was an enormous turkey that must have been hit with an Engorgement charm in life, along with a dizzying array of serving dishes heaped high with stuffing, potatoes, Christmas pudding and all sorts of other wonderful foods.

Mrs. Weasley had dressed in the new robes the twins had given her and looked lovely. Everyone told her so, but Harry noticed that it was the smile Mr. Weasley gave her that made her blush. It reminded Harry of the way Ron looked at Hermione sometimes. Mr. Weasley kissed his wife on the cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Molly,” he said softly. Mrs. Weasley flashed her husband a brilliant smile and Harry suddenly wondered if anyone would ever look at him that way.

The moment passed and everyone took their places at the table, all talking and laughing at once. Harry was almost overwhelmed at how fortunate he was to be a part of this family if only for a little while. When dinner was finished, he went up to Ron’s room and stretched out on his bed. He was just drifting off to sleep when he heard a tapping at the window. It was Hedwig.

Harry jumped up and let her in. She flew up to perch on the top of her cage and shook out her feathers. Harry handed her some food then noticed the letter she was carrying and frowned. He hadn’t expected Snape to write back to him! He reached out slowly, took the letter from Hedwig and read it.

Mr. Potter,

Thank you so much for wishing me a happy Christmas, though in truth it was better before your wretched owl bit me. I don’t blame the bird, however; she no doubt learnt from you. The next time you write to me, say what’s on your mind instead of spouting inane platitudes. Even you have more wit than that.

S. Snape

Oh, and I’m sure you had a lovely Christmas.

Harry stared at the note, speechless. Snape was unbelievable. The man couldn’t just ignore Harry’s letter or send some perfunctory reply. No, Snape had to throw it back in his face! Well, he wasn’t going to get away with it, Harry thought determinedly. Snape wasn’t the only one who could hurl insults. Harry snatched up a piece of parchment and wrote furiously. He turned back to Hedwig.

“Sorry girl. I need you to make one more trip.”

***

This time Hedwig didn’t land on the table. Instead, she settled on the back on Snape’s chair and hooted at him loudly.

“You can’t be serious,” Snape said, addressing the owl in disbelief.

In response, Hedwig stuck out her leg impatiently. Snape scowled, but took the note and read it.

Dear Professor Snape,

I made Hedwig promise not to bite you this time. Wouldn’t want her to catch anything. You’re right. I had a great Christmas since your letter didn’t arrive until after dinner. Sorry for the inane platitudes. I only wanted to wish you a happy Christmas, but I reckoned you’d bite my head off. It’s nice to know some things in life are predictable.

Sincerely,

H. Potter

Snape had years of experience controlling his emotions and managed not to let his utter astonishment show. At least Potter had skipped the false obsequiousness and gone for his usual impertinence this time. He’d rather outdone himself, actually, which certainly made for more interesting reading. Not that Snape could let the boy get away with such cheek, of course.

“Is everything all right, Severus?” Dumbledore asked mildly.

“Fine,” Snape replied as he pulled a quill from his pocket. He flipped Harry’s note over and wrote quickly, smiling to himself. When he’d finished he tied the note to Hedwig’s leg. The owl gave him one last appraising look then took flight.

“What did Potter have to say this morning?” McGonagall asked.

“He merely needed some instruction that I believe I’ve provided quite clearly,” Snape answered easily. “I doubt I’ll be hearing from him again.”

However, the next morning, Hedwig was back.

“Obviously whatever you said wasn’t sufficient,” McGonagall said trying not to laugh at Snape’s consternation. “You know, he never has any trouble with my assignments.”

Snape threw her a venomous look, but said nothing as he snatched the letter from an equally disgruntled bird. He read it then slammed it down on the table.

“The boy is absolutely insufferable! You’d think I could at least have a little respite from him during the holidays!”

“Perhaps if you stopped replying to his letters, Severus, he would stop writing,” Dumbledore suggested.

Snape looked horrified. “And let him have the last word?”

“Severus, what on earth is this about?” McGonagall asked, taking up the letter.

“It’s none of your concern,” Snape said. He tried to snatch the letter back, but she held it out of reach.

“He’s in my house, Severus. I think that makes it my concern.” McGonagall read the letter then looked at Snape with an expression both scandalized and amused. She handed the letter back to Snape and turned her attention to her breakfast.

“Just keep in mind, Severus, that you can’t award detention or take house points while the boy is away from school.”

***

“Harry, who are you writing to?”

Harry started. He’d been so intent upon his latest letter that he hadn’t heard Ron come in.

“No one,” Harry answered.

“Well, you’ve been writing to them every day for a week or don’t you think anyone’s noticed Hedwig coming and going all the time?”

“I’m just writing to school,” Harry said. “I, er, promised Professor Snape I’d let him know how my practices are going.”

“There’s nothing wrong, is there?” Ron asked, instantly concerned.

“No, of course not. I just need to check in with him.”

“Leave it to Snape to find a way to put a damper on the holidays,” Ron said.

Harry glanced down at his latest diatribe and felt a twinge of guilt. “It’s not a big deal, really. In fact it was my idea.” That at least was mostly true.

“Well, hurry up. Mum’s already breaking out the cider. It’ll be time to ring in the New Year soon.”

Harry quickly finished his letter and sent Hedwig on her way, then went to join the rest of the household. The New Year’s Eve celebration ran well past midnight and included some of Fred’s and George’s more spectacular and erratic inventions which they set off in the garden. Mrs. Weasley tutted that it was a wonder they didn’t set the house on fire, but everyone else enjoyed them immensely. It was past one o’clock when Harry and Ron finally went up to bed. Harry climbed under the covers, exhausted but happy, turned off the light and was soon asleep.

***

“Harry! Wake up!”

Harry’s eyes flew open. Ron was bending over him gripping his shoulder.

“Harry! Are you all right?”

Harry was drenched in sweat and shaking, but he began to calm down as he took in his surroundings and realized where he was.

“Yeah, I’m all right,” he said weakly. He sat up and saw that he and Ron weren’t alone. Hermione and Ginny were there along with the twins. He wondered how loudly he’d been screaming.

“You haven’t had one that bad in a while,” Ron said grimly.

“No,” Harry agreed. “Voldemort outdid himself tonight.”

Harry buried his head in his hands and tried to block out the memory. The staff at the Muggle Orphanage had had no idea what was happening and, of course, no hope of defending themselves. The Death Eaters had killed everyone. Harry could still hear the terrified screams of the children echoing in his mind.

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up. It was Ginny. She didn’t say anything, but the steady look of compassion in her eyes helped banish some of the horror Harry felt.

“Bloody Voldemort and his bloody Death Eaters!” Ron said. “You’d think someone could do something to stop them!”

“Haven’t you heard?” Fred asked sarcastically. “Harry’s supposed to save us.”

“That’s not funny!” Ginny snapped.

“Tell that to the Daily Prophet,” George replied in disgust. “It seems to be the only answer they can come up with.”

“Dad says the Ministry’s doing everything it can,” Fred said in frustration. “There just aren’t enough Aurors to go around.”

“Plus, no one wants to stand up to Voldemort, of course. Most people are too scared to fight,” George added.

“Well, until these attacks do stop, Harry, you have to find a way to block these visions,” Hermione said sternly. “Haven’t your lessons with Professor Snape helped at all?”

“Not really,” Harry sighed. Then he felt his stomach drop. Snape. Harry had a clear memory of his last letter to his teacher and it didn’t seem at all appropriate at the moment. Harry jumped out of bed and began rummaging in his trunk for some parchment.

“Harry, what are you doing?” Ron asked.

“I’ve got to write to Snape.”

“What? Right now? It’s two o’clock in the morning.”

“I know, but I need this to get to Hogwarts before Hedwig gets there. Can I borrow Pig?”

Ron looked at Harry as though he thought his friend had lost his mind, but before he could say anything, Fred spoke up.

“Blimey, are these what you and Snape have been writing to each other all this time?” Fred and George were standing over Harry’s open trunk reading a stack of letters.

“Give me those!” Harry made a grab for the letters, but the twins blocked him easily.

“Oh come on, Harry,” George said. “It’s not everyday you see this many insults hurled back and forth. It’s very impressive.”

“What are you talking about?” Hermione asked. She stepped forward and took one of the letters from George.

“Oh no! Harry, he’s going to kill you!”

“No, he’s not.” George said. “Read the back.”

Hermione flipped the letter over. “Oh my goodness! Harry, how in the world did this get started?”

Ron and Ginny had come up behind Hermione and the twins and were now reading the letters as well. Harry sighed.

“I wrote Snape a stupid letter and of course he had to write back and insult me. So, I got angry and wrote to him and, well, now I just think neither one of us wants to be the one to back down.”

“Harry, I can’t believe you said this stuff to Snape.” Ron sounded genuinely awed.

“Yeah, and who’d have thought Snape had such a wicked sense of humor?” Fred said.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Harry, Snape would have come down here and killed you by now if he were taking any of this seriously,” George said. “It’s obviously all in good fun.”

“Yeah. This is brilliant stuff, but nobody writes this way when they’re really upset,” Fred added. “I mean, you’re not honestly angry with him, are you?”

Harry considered. “No,” he said, surprised to realize it was true.

“Well, there you are then,” George said. “You know, Fred, this has given me an idea for a new product.”

“What’s that?” Fred asked

“Poison Pen Pal Quills!” George said enthusiastically. “Insult your friends in style.”

“Brilliant!” Fred said. “We’ll sell thousands!”

“I’m glad you two think this is brilliant,” Harry said. “But believe me, it’s not going to be funny in the morning when Snape gets my latest letter along with the Daily Prophet.”

“Don’t have a fit, Harry,” Fred said. “You can use Mercury. He’ll catch Hedwig.”

“Fastest owl in Britain. Guaranteed!” George promised.

“Really, you’ll let me use him?” Harry asked.

“For our benefactor and the inspiration of our next best seller? Of course!” Fred said.

“You write your letter, we’ll make sure it gets there,” George said. He and Fred left to go and get their owl, discussing the intricacies of enchanting quills as they went.

Harry sat down and began to write. By the time he was finished, the twins had returned with a large, handsome, gray owl that looked far too dignified to belong to Fred and George Weasley. Harry attached his letter to the owl’s leg while George spoke.

“All right Merc, here’s the deal. Harry’s owl has about a three-hour head start on you and she’s no slouch. She’s on her way to Professor Snape at Hogwarts and we need you to get there first. Can you manage that, mate?”

Mercury hooted once, decisively and took off, disappearing almost immediately into the night.

***

The front page of the Daily Prophet held a picture of the ruins of the orphanage. The story itself was short on specifics since there had been few eyewitnesses, but clearly this was the work of Death Eaters.

“Horrible!” Professor Flitwick proclaimed. “Just horrible.”

“This is worse than anything he did last time,” Madam Pomfrey said.

“But why kill all those poor children?” Professor Sprout asked. “What possible benefit could it be to him?”

“They were Muggles,” McGonagall said with barely contained fury. “That's reason enough for him.”

“It is more than that, I believe,” Dumbledore said sadly. “I suspect he was hoping to bury what was left of his past.”

“What do you mean, Albus?” McGonagall asked.

“Unless I am very much mistaken, this was the orphanage in which Tom Riddle grew up,” Dumbledore answered.

Snape paid no attention to the conversation around him and said nothing. There was only one person on his mind and he automatically glanced up at the opening high in the rafters where the owls arrived. Not that Potter's owl would carry any useful information. He obviously would have sent her before going to bed. Snape scowled. He was in no mood for flippancy this morning. Just then, an owl soared into the Great Hall but, it wasn't Hedwig. This was a large gray, eagle owl and it landed right in front of Snape. Everyone stared at the unfamiliar visitor.

“You do seem to be getting more post than usual of late, Severus,” McGonagall commented.

Snape was reaching for the letter when Hedwig arrived and dropped down unceremoniously beside the big gray. The two owls eyed one another and the gray hopped closer to Snape. Hedwig ruffled her feathers and hopped closer too.

“Oh, sit still both of you!” Snape scolded them. The two owls froze immediately and Snape took the opportunity to grab both letters.

He opened the gray’s letter first and instantly recognized Potter’s handwriting.

Professor,

Please ignore Hedwig’s post this morning. If you’ve received the Daily Prophet you’ll know why. I know you said that I should be able to learn how to block these visions, but I’ve tried everything and I just don’t know what else to do. You were right. I should have stayed at school. At least I’m used to it there. Nothing this horrible belongs at the Burrow. I won’t bother wishing you a Happy New Year. I don’t think anybody’s going to have one.

Yours,

HP

Wordlessly, Snape passed the letter to McGonagall who read it and passed it to Dumbledore. When Dumbledore had finished reading it, McGonagall spoke.

“Albus, perhaps I should go and bring Potter back to Hogwarts.”

“No, Minerva,” Dumbledore answered. “Despite what Harry may think, he is better off surrounded by his friends. A lonely castle is no place for a desperate mind.”

“Then you should write to him.”

“I believe Severus is more than capable of answering his own post,” he said. They both glanced at Snape who showed no sign of having heard their conversation. He sat deep in thought with his arms folded and his chin on his chest. His mouth was set in a thin angry line.

“Severus?” Dumbledore said gently.

Snape looked up and sighed. “I will see to it, Headmaster,” he said. “You have my word.” He stood up and swept out of the Hall.

***

Harry had only half-heartedly participated in the festivities of New Year’s Day. They played Quidditch, but even that didn’t lift the weight of the vision he’d seen the night before. He ate listlessly which made Mrs. Weasley fuss over him even more than usual, but, for once, Harry didn’t mind the pampering. It wasn’t just the vision he’d had that was bothering him, either; he was also anxious about what Snape would say to him. Fred and George were right. It was much easier swapping insults with the man than attempting to actually talk to him.

Late in the afternoon there was finally a tapping at the kitchen window that announced Mercury’s return. He flew straight to Harry who took the letter and opened it as everyone gathered around.

Potter,

As disconcerting as your dreams may be, remember they are only visions. You have no control over the events you witness and bear no responsibility for them. Had you not dreamt last night, the attack would have still occurred.

However, it is obviously to your benefit to minimize these visions and you will learn to master them. I give you my word that I will see to it.

SS

PS – Professor McGonagall insisted that your owl stay overnight to have a ‘much needed rest’ as she put it. The bird should be back to you tomorrow evening.

“Well, that’s boring,” Fred said feigning disappointment. “He didn’t insult you once.” Harry wasn’t paying attention. He was relieved that Snape had taken his letter seriously and knew his professor was right. There was nothing he could have done to stop the attack on the orphanage. It was the last sentence, however, that held his attention and filled him with hope. “I give you my word that I will see to it.” Harry had learnt a great many eclectic details about Snape over the preceding months and he was certain that the man never gave his word unless he meant to keep it.

“Harry, are you all right?” Ginny asked.

Harry looked up at her and smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I am.”