The next morning, brilliant sunlight greeted Harry the very moment he opened his eyes, so different from waking in his cupboard.

Something bumped his feet through the covers, and he sat up, squinting at the foot of his bed. Once his glasses went on, he realized there were gaily-wrapped gifts piled across the bottom of his blanket. What on earth?

He sat up abruptly, pulling his bare feet up cross-legged beneath him, and leaned forward to examine the boxes and bags, which must have been mistakenly put there while he slept. But the gift tags said otherwise: "To Harry Potter from Minerva McGonagall", "To Harry Potter from Poppy Pomfrey", "To Harry from Hagrid", "To Mr. Potter from Severus Snape", "To Harry Potter from Filius Flitwick", and "To Harry Potter from Pomona Sprout". A huge basket of sweets sat on the bedside chair, with "To Harry from Albus Dumbledore" hanging from the sturdy handle.

Harry's jaw dropped at hitting such an unexpected jackpot, half of it from people he didn't even know!

"Rise and shine, Mr. Potter," said Madam Pomfrey, whisking aside the curtains surrounding his bed. "And don't let me catch you eating a single sweet from that basket before you have a proper breakfast, young man."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said obediently, figuring it was advisable to fall into the familiar routine of agreeing with whatever she said, since she represented Authority, like Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.

"Here are some clean clothes – "

"But those aren't mine," Harry protested.

"They are now," the nurse informed him. "Molly Weasley sent them over before daylight."

Whoever Molly Weasley was.

"You'll need to get dressed before going down to the Great Hall for Christmas breakfast."

"Yes, ma'am," said Harry, climbing out of bed. "Um … I'm just wondering, when might I open my gifts? And who are they from, anyway? The people I don't know, I mean. I only know you and Mr. Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore."

"The other Heads of House have sent gifts, along with our gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, and Molly Weasley, a friend of your parents."

"Oh." Harry really didn't know what to say.

Madam Pomfrey pointed out the bathroom again and walked away to her office, calling over her shoulder, "I would suggest that you wait until everyone who sent a gift can be present to watch you open it."

"Yes, ma'am."

And Harry set about getting ready for the most interesting Christmas day he'd ever had.

He met the other Heads of House over breakfast in the Great Hall, which he'd reached in Dumbledore's company. The very sight of the decorations festooning the cathedral-sized room took his breath away, causing him to lose focus on the people waiting to meet him. There were actually twelve Christmas trees! TWELVE! All towering high overhead, making Aunt Petunia's designer tree look as insignificant as a toothpick! And fully decorated from tip to toe. WOW! And Dumbledore had said the lights were really fairies. FAIRIES! And the ornaments – some modern, some ancient, all made by witches and wizards through the past couple of centuries.

Harry shook his head, trying to refocus enough to sit down at the breakfast table.

He shyly greeted the other adults sitting there, along with the few students who had stayed over the holiday. Professor McGonagall, who turned out to have been Harry's parents' Head of House – Gryffindor – told him that, normally, there would be four long tables in the Great Hall, one for each House, but that they did not stand on formality during the Christmas break, when students and staff ate at the same table.

After everyone had finished plowing their way through platters of bacon, eggs, sausages, pancakes, kippers, porridge, and the like, accompanied by pots full of fragrant tea and steaming coffee, and various juices, the residents of Hogwarts gathered around one of the trees, where presents had been piled beneath it. Harry recognized the gifts which had been on his bed earlier that morning, and at Dumbledore's invitation he sat down on a plump crimson cushion with gold braid laid upon the stone floor of the Hall. The other students each had a cushion in their House colors, while the adults sat in comfortable chairs before the blazing fire in the large fireplace adjacent to the tree.

As Harry and the other students opened their gifts, he couldn't bring himself to rip open the paper as they did. Instead, he savored the fact that each gift had been given to him, by people he didn't even know, and he carefully unwrapped each item in turn. From McGonagall, he received a thick, warm coat which fit him perfectly, along with a fuzzy knitted hat, earmuffs, and snug gloves. Flitwick had given him a book on wand lore, which included information about the various woods used in constructing wands, as well as the materials forming their cores. Sprout's gift was a small potted plant, which produced a filling, nutritious fruit once every twenty-four hours, rain or shine, indoors or outdoors, all year long.

Snape had gifted him with a book on basic potions which did not require magical ingredients. Harry could practice making simple household potions without benefit of a cauldron, even, since the easily-obtainable ingredients could be simmered in an ordinary saucepan. Harry thanked him sincerely, although he could not imagine Aunt Petunia ever allowing him to use any of her saucepans for such a purpose. He didn't say so, however, not wanting to spoil Snape's generosity.

Hagrid turned out to be more than a gamekeeper. More like two people rolled into one, he was so tall. This must be a real giant, Harry thought, not realizing how close he was to the actual truth. "I r'member yeh, 'Arry. Jes' a tiny tyke, yeh were. Yer mum sat yeh upon a unicorn the last time they came to visit me, and yeh looked like yeh wanted t' go gallopin' off into th' fores', yeh did." He smiled at Harry's awe when he opened the fully-illustrated book of magical creatures. "There's a whole chapter 'bout unicorns, 'Arry. Hope yeh like it."

"Oh, I do, Mr. Hagrid! Thank you so much!" Harry hugged the thick volume to his thin chest. "Thank you indeed!"

Madam Pomfrey had provided a deck of Exploding Snap cards, and Dumbledore himself had gone all out, lavishing upon Harry a deluxe edition of Wizarding Chess, which included an animated instruction manual along with the game board and tempermental playing pieces.

The other students left the Great Hall eventually, returning to their Common Rooms with their arms loaded down with holiday plunder.

Just as Harry was finishing up his own gift-opening session, a sturdy woman with flying red curls practically ran the length of the Great Hall, leaning down to grab up Harry in a tight, warm hug that went on and on. "I just finished this, Harry dear," she said, smiling down at him fondly, despite the tears creeping down her soft cheeks. "Do try it on! I remember Lily's eyes, and I thought this yarn would make a good match to yours." All the while, she kept tugging a thick jumper over Harry's messy black hair. When his head emerged from the top of the neckhole, he looked down to see an "H" emblazoned in yellow yarn across his chest.

"Thank you, ma'am," Harry said, wondering who this impulsive lady was. Women didn't normally just up and knit an entire jumper in a single morning, did they? Was that even possible? Or had she just put the "H" on it for his sake?

"I'm Molly Weasley, dear. Your parents were two of my dearest friends. I have a son, Ron, who will be in your year at school. He can't wait to meet you, but he had a cold today, so he had to stay home."

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry, for lack of anything more original to contribute. "I'll look forward to meeting him." Well, this Ron could hardly be worse than Dudley, could he? "And thank you again for the nice warm jumper!"

"You're very welcome, Harry dear."

Dumbledore rose and walked forward to place his hand on Harry's shoulder. "I've an announcement to make," he said rather formally. "Harry Potter shall remain at Hogwarts for the next few days, until we can investigate his home situation. Severus' report, following an alert by Arabella Figg, has given me cause to determine whether Harry should be returned to his relatives until he is ready to come to school next year. During the remainder of his stay here, I hope that each of you will continue to provide company and support to this growing lad."

The teachers all murmured their assent, but it was Harry who looked up at Dumbledore with shimmering eyes.

"I can stay here? At Hogwarts? At least for a little while?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled down at him. "Certainly through the New Year, Harry."

Harry's heart beat fast with eager anticipation. "Oh, thank you, sir! Thank you so much! This is the best Christmas wish I've ever had come true – for REAL, this time! I'm in the castle for Christmas! Oh, thank you!"

He didn't say "safe", but he knew Dumbledore would fill in the blank. A certain sadness lurked behind the twinkle in those blue eyes. Harry didn't know what Snape had told him – or even Mrs. Figg … and how did SHE know about Dumbledore anyway? – but if it kept him away from the Dursleys over the holidays, that was fine with Harry.

"Potter."

"Yes, sir?" Harry looked at Severus Snape, wondering what he would say, especially in this company.

"You should not waste your time sitting idly around. You may come to the Potions classroom each day while you are here, and you will be able to put your new potions book to good use."

"You mean I get to BREW potions, sir?"

Snape nodded, a tiny smirk hidden just in the corner of his mouth. "Under my supervision, Potter. I will not allow you to run amok with my cauldrons."

Harry giggled.

He looked at the array of gifts from the people who had made this Christmas so very special. Suddenly, he thought of something. "I don't have anything to give any of you," he said softly.

"There's no need, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Just knowing that you're here with us is gift enough."

"But … but if I did ever get you something, what would you like, Professor Dumbledore?" Harry's emerald eyes looked seriously into the twinkling blue ones above the half-moon spectacles.

"Socks, Harry," said the Headmaster. "One can never have too many socks."

Harry looked at the man, wondering if Dumbledore were teasing him. And then … Harry burst out laughing.

"Something amuses you, Potter?" asked Snape, his brows drawn together speculatively.

"Oh, if only you knew!" laughed Harry, thinking of the crumpled paper bag with a mustard stain outside and Dudley's dirty socks inside, stashed behind the Dursleys' Christmas tree, with nobody there to open it.