“I need to talk to Dumbledore today,” Severus said at breakfast.

It was December the twenty fourth, Christmas Eve, and they were all gathered around the small table in the kitchen of Spinners End. Both Harry and Tobias looked up at his words, though Harry quickly returned his attention to his oatmeal.

“You do that,” Tobias replied. “And take Harry with you.”  

Harry’s attention snapped right back up, oatmeal suddenly forgotten.

Severus’ eyebrows met and he gave his father a disapproving look.

“I am not bringing him.”

“Yes you are. I have Christmas gifts to wrap and I don’t trust either of you to be around when that happens.”

“No, I am not. It’s a meeting with the headmaster. I can’t bring him along.”

“Of course you can. Leave him outside if you can’t let him attend the actual meeting. You’d be alright with that, right Harry?”

“Yes sir,” Harry replied, nodding eagerly. Think, to get a chance to see Hogwarts! On Christmas, none the less!

Severus sighed.

“If I go on my own I can apparate and I’ll be back in less than an hour. If I bring him I won’t be able to apparate and will have to take the train, meaning that it will take the whole day.”

“Wonderful! I’ll have plenty of time to wrap those gifts then.”

“What does “apparate” mean?” Harry asked curiously.

His question was ignored.

“I am not taking the train,” Severus argued. “The meeting itself will take half an hour, an hour at the most. It would be idiotic to spend hours on the train just for that. Besides, it will be the middle of the night before we get back. Assuming of course that there is a train to take!”

“Then why not do that apparate-thing you mentioned?”

“Because that is for adults! Children will get sick from it!”

“Can’t you do that thing your mother always did with you whenever you were going somewhere?”

“What “thing”?”

“With the fire-place. “Floo” or whatever you call it.”

“I doubt our fireplace is still connected to the floo-network.”

“Have you checked?”

“No. I assumed mother un-connected it when she left.”

“You and I both know your mother is not the responsible type. I doubt she did anything of the like.”

“Even if she didn’t then I still don’t have any floo-powder, which is needed to be able to floo anywhere.”

“That ash-like thing? I think I’ve got some of that stored away somewhere. Your mother left it behind.”

Tobias stood and headed for the living room. He returned a few minutes later, holding up a small bag in one of his hands.

“Here. This is what you need, right?”

“Yes,” Severus reluctantly admitted after inspecting the powder.

“Then it’s decided! You will floo to Hogwarts and you’ll take Harry with you!”

Severus groaned in defeat. Harry smiled broadly, looking at Tobias with admiration.

“Finish your breakfast and go get dressed Harry,” Tobias ordered.

“Yes sir!”

In almost no time at all the oatmeal was gone and Harry had disappeared up the stairs in a run.

“You got any Christmas gifts Severus?” Tobias asked suddenly.

“No,” Severus replied, taken off guard.

“Then I suggest you take today to get some.”

“Why?”

“Because Harry will be hurt if you don’t get him anything.”

“He’ll survive. You got him gifts, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did.”

“So then there’s no need for me to get him anything else.”

“He’s got something for you Severus. I sincerely believe he’ll be hurt if he doesn’t get anything in return.”

“He got something for me?” Severus asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise. That, he had not expected.

“Yes.”

“What?”

“I have no idea. He wouldn’t show me. Which is all the more reason I think this is important to him.”

Severus found no objections to that. Before he could formulate a reply Harry was stomping down the stairs.

“I’m dressed!” he announced. “Can we go now?”

A long look was exchanged between Severus and Tobias, Severus’ clearly saying that he opposed this whole adventure that Tobias had forced him into and Tobias’ just as clearly saying that Severus had no choice on the matter.

With a sigh Severus got up, grabbing the little bag of floo-powder.

“Get your coat,” he ordered.

Hastily, Harry obeyed. Severus got his own coat and then they both stood in front of the fireplace in the living room.

“I expect you both to be out at least until lunchtime,” Tobias called from the kitchen.

“What are we doing?” Harry asked.

“We’re going to floo to Hogwarts, where I will talk with the headmaster while you wait outside.”

“What’s “floo”? Sounds like something bad. Like flu.”

“Floo is a magical way of traveling. One travels through the fireplace using this powder.”

“How?”

“You get into the fireplace, state your destination and then throw the floo-powder on the ground.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. You have to speak clearly though, or you might end up in the wrong place.”

Harry gulped nervously but tried not to let on how scary that sounded.

“Once you get going you will be spinning around in the fireplace. You might catch glimpses of other people’s homes or offices. I suggest you keep your arms close to your body and your mouth closed, or you might get sooth in there.”

Harry nodded, listening carefully.

“You go first,” Severus then ordered.

“Me, first?”

“Yes. Get in the fireplace.”

Awkwardly Harry did as he had been told.

“Take some floo-powder,” Severus then ordered, holding out the bag to Harry. “Now, clearly say “Hogwarts”. The floo will deposit you in the headmaster’s office. I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Ok,” Harry nodded.

He took a deep breath, bracing himself against the nervousness.

“Hogwarts!” he said, hearing his voice come out slightly shaky but still clear.

He threw the powder down and then the world around him was spinning.

Like Severus had told him he might Harry did indeed catch glimpses of other homes but never enough to actually catch any real details. The spinning sensation caused him to feel slightly ill and without thinking he opened his mouth to take a deep breath.

Sooth invaded his mouth, abruptly closing off his airways.

The spinning came to an end and Harry stumbled out of a new fireplace, coughing and trying to regain his breath. He stumbled upon his feet and quickly found himself sprawled across the floor.

“Oh dear, what do we have here?” an unfamiliar voice spoke.

Then Severus stepped out of the fireplace. Unlike Harry he did so gracefully and he was not coughing either.

“Headmaster,” he greeted, before looking at Harry.

“I told you to keep your mouth shut, did I not?” he berated, pulling Harry back up on his feet.

“Yeah,” Harry admitted. “I forgot.”

“Clearly.”

Suppressing a wince at the tone in his brother’s vice Harry looked around the room. It was large and had small tables spread throughout it, all of them with little objects that were spinning, or puffing, or vibrating or even just laying still. There was a desk to, a big ornate one, and behind the desk was … Harry couldn’t help but stare.

Santa Claus? he thought to himself. The man was dressed in a long, red, gold and green robe and had a matching pointy hat. He also had a long, white beard.

“Severus?” that unfamiliar voice spoke again., coming from the Santa-like man. “I wasn’t expecting you back quite so soon. Who is your friend?”

“He’s the reason I need to talk to you. He’ll wait outside.”

Without further ado Severus led Harry to a door in the wall, opened the door and pushed Harry into the other room, quickly closing the door behind him. Harry couldn’t help but feel a little insulted at the brusque handling.

He pressed his ear to the door, determined to listen in on the conversation. However he heard absolutely nothing, no matter how carefully he listened. With a frown he pulled away, realizing that maybe there was some magic stopping him from listening in on them.

Instead he turned his attention to the room he was now in. It was large, larger than the office had been, and round with a large, square table in the middle. Around the table there were at least thirty chairs. It must be some sort of conference room, he decided.

Tall windows provided the only light in the room as the sun shone through them. Eager to get a look of where he was Harry ran up to the closest window.

It was breath-taking. Like something from a painting. Except this seemed to be real. In the distance he could see mountain tops. There were a forest too, stretching out over the mountains and reaching closer to where he was until it finally gave way to what could only be the school grounds of Hogwarts.

There was a cabin close to the forest. He could see children playing, having snowball fights or building snowmen. Parts of the castle was also visible to him. What he thought looked kind of like gigantic green houses, lower standing parts of the castle, little courtyards, even a frozen fountain.

And over it all was a thick layer of white snow, glistening in the sun.

“Wow,” Harry whispered to himself.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” someone answered him.

Taken aback Harry spun around. He had thought he was alone. But when he looked it was no one there. Confused Harry looked around the room. Who had spoken? He was sure he had heard someone talk, just a moment ago.

“Haven’t seen a magical painting before, have you? Well, it was me who spoke just now. Me, over here!”

Harry’s eyes fell upon a painting of a thin man dressed in blue and purple robes. The man was waving to him to catch his attention but stopped once he had it.

“Hello there,” the man in the painting said.

“You can talk?” Harry exclaimed.

“Of course I can! Life would be terribly dull otherwise, wouldn’t it?”

“I guess …” Harry agreed. “But, you’re a painting!”

“A painting I am, that is correct. So I guess saying that “life” would be terribly dull is a bit of an exaggeration. Existence, maybe?”

Harry stared, unable to quite follow the man’s reasoning. He was too occupied with the realization that he was talking to a painting. A moving, talking painting!

The man in the painting sighed, apparently realizing that Harry was not finding his joke very funny.

“My name is Algernon Barnaby,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Harry,” Harry replied automatically.

“And do you have a surname, Harry?”

“Oh, sorry! It’s Potter. Or Potter-Snape, actually.”

“Harry Potter-Snape, you say? That is quite the sounding name, you know. You wouldn’t happen to be the Harry Potter, would you?”

Harry shrugged, not sure what the man meant.

“Come closer for me, will you?” the man asked him.

Harry obeyed, stepping right up to the painting. The man looked him over, scrutinizing him before his eyes locked on Harry’s forehead.

“The Harry Potter indeed,” he mumbled. “And you are wearing the name of Hogwarts potions professor as well. Interesting.”

“Whose name?” Harry asked, confused.

“Hogwarts current potions professor. Severus Snape. Would you mind telling me how that came to happen?”

“He’s my brother,” Harry explained. “Or rather, my adoptive brother. Sort of.”

“Adoptive brother, you say?”

“Mhm,” Harry agreed, nodding proudly. “Tobias adopted me.”

“How good for you,” the man in the painting said.

“He’s the best dad I’ve ever had!” Harry added.

“Good, good. A lad needs a good dad. And a good brother is good too.”

Harry made a face at that, thinking of Severus’ rough handling of him earlier. He had thought that they had come a bit closer yesterday, with the snowball fight and all that, but it appeared the man was back to disliking him today.

“Or maybe not so good of a brother, huh?” the man observed.

Suddenly feeling shy and insecure Harry neither nodded nor shook his head, just looking down at the floor.

“Mind telling me about that?” the man asked.

For a moment Harry remained quiet.

“He doesn’t like me,” he admitted at last, his voice low.

“He doesn’t?”

“No. He barely talks to me at all and he didn’t even want to bring me here today. And then he just showed me in here and locked me out.”

“Well … I’m sure he had important matters to discuss with the headmaster.”

“Yeah, he said so. But he didn’t have to be so rough about showing me in here. He could at least have introduced me to Santa!”

“Santa?” the painting asked, looking confused.

Harry blushed a little and looked down at the floor again. He was too old to believe in fairy tales like Santa Claus, but the man did look like Santa!

“The headmaster,” he explained, embarrassed. “He looks like Santa.”

To Harry’s surprise the man chuckled at that.

“Indeed he does, our headmaster,” he agreed. “And I believe he would like being compared to someone like Father Christmas himself.”

“But he’s not Santa?” Harry said, wanting to clarify the fact.  

“No, he’s not. His name is Albus Dumbledore and he is the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Yes, Harry had known that. And he didn’t believe in Santa anyway. The Dursleys had always been very clear about it being them that bought all of the Christmas presents, not some red-dressed man who flew a sled drawn by reindeers around the earth every year. Not that Harry had ever gotten any of those expensive gifts, but still.

“No need to look so disappointed, my boy,” Barnaby said. “Albus Dumbledore may not be Father Christmas but one never knows what magic is out there. There might be a Father Christmas.”

“I wasn’t disappointed!” Harry defended himself. “And I don’t believe in Father Christmas. I’m ten you know, too old for fairytales!”

“One is never too old for fairytales,” Barnaby cautioned. “As for not believing in Father Christmas … Well, that is your choice. Some people don’t believe in magic, yet here we are.”

Surprised by the words Harry took a moment to consider them. He was not used to adults telling him the impossible was real. Tobias had been the first, when he had told Harry that he was a wizard. He hadn’t believed it at first. Now, however, there were no doubts in his mind that magic was real. Did that mean that maybe … just maybe … Father Christmas was for real? The question was too complex for him to answer but Barnaby’s reasoning gave him enough reason to at least consider it.

“You think so?” he asked, looking up at the painting.

“I do. I believe that magic is so complex that there will always be things we cannot explain and cannot understand, so why not Father Christmas? However, the important thing is not whether I believe it or not, but whether you do.”

Before Harry could figure out a good answer to that a soft pop could be heard from behind him. Harry turned around to see what had made the sound and came face to face with the strangest little creature he had ever seen. It was short but had big ears and eyes.

“I am Tilly sir, a house-elf here at Hogwarts. Can Tilly do something for you sir?”

Speechless, Harry could only stare. Not only was it a really strange looking creature but it could talk as well!

“Sir?” the creature asked. “Can Tilly be doing something for sir? Maybe getting sir something to eat?”

“Oh, I … I’m fine,” Harry stammered at last. “I just had breakfast.”

“Then maybe sir would like something else? Some hot chocolate maybe? Some biscuits?”

Harry loved sweets. Chocolate was a favorite of his and was it not for Tobias Harry could have eaten it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. So the offer was tempting.

“Yes please,” he replied. “If it’s not too much trouble?”

“No trouble at all sir! Tilly loves to serve!”

Another pop and Tilly was gone. Harry stared at the empty place where she had been seconds before.

“That was a house-elf,” Barnaby explained patiently to Harry. “They work in the kitchens, do laundry, clean … basically anything you ask them to.”

“That doesn’t sound very fun,” Harry commented, feeling a bit bad for the creature.

“They love to serve. She said so herself, didn’t she? Besides, Hogwarts is really one of the best places for a house-elf.”

Harry was not quite convinced. She had sounded eager to serve though and hadn’t looked like she despised having to ask him if he wanted anything.

“Tilly’s back with hot chocolate and biscuits sir,” Tilly said, having popped into the room once again.

She placed a cup of steaming hot chocolate and a plate with biscuits on the table.

“Please call for Tilly if Tilly can do anything else for sir!”

Then she was gone again. Curiously Harry approached the table, his attention on the sweets in front of him. There were chocolate-chip biscuits and ginger bread men, along with his cup of hot chocolate, which was complete with some whipped cream on top.

“Wicked,” he said, smiling as he took a seat at the table and dug in.

“The house-elves make the best food,” Barnaby commented with a smile. “I remember when I was just a student. They used to make the most amazing fruitcake. And then there were of course the gingerbread houses. When most of the students were gone they did a replica of Hogwarts, complete with gingerbread men and women walking around the halls.”