The next day Harry pinched himself a few minutes after waking up, to make sure he wasn’t sleeping. But astonishingly, he wasn’t . It was true— he was in his own room, and if he was here then downstairs were his parents .

He rushed through dressing— though he did have time to note that he had a whole dresser full of clothes that fit — and went down the stairs two at a time. And in the kitchen, scrambling eggs, was his mother. Her ponytail swung a bit as she stirred.

“Harr—”

He collided with her in a hug and she let out an oomph .

“Yes, I’m still here,” she laughed, ruffling his hair. “Trying to get all your hugs in before you go back to school?”

Harry nodded into her chest, though he didn’t know how he would be able to bear leaving them, even to go to Hogwarts. Before yesterday, he would’ve said that Hogwarts was his home— now it paled in comparison to this .

“I love you,” he said, smiling up at her. She had a mole beneath her ear, and when she grinned her nose crinkled.

“Love you too, Harry. Do you want tomatoes with this?”

His Dad had already gone off to work, but spending time with his mother was amazing. They went on a walk outside after she hung coat, scarf and beanie on him, and she pointed out her favourite trees and how the frost on the ground made even the bitumen sparkle. 

“I think it’s meant to snow tonight,” she added.

When they got back they made hot chocolate with real chocolate melted into it. Every sip Harry took was rich, creamy, and warming.

Then they hauled out some boxes of Christmas decorations from the attic, which was cramped and spidery. Harry saw that when Lily Potter sneezed, it was loud and jerked her head around. 

“We wanted to wait to decorate so you could join in,” his Mum said, getting out a handkerchief. “Gah— should have vanished the dust first.”

Harry giggled. 

There was a potted fir tree that was just chest high on Harry that they lugged inside together, needles brushing his face when Lily tripped on a step. They placed it in the corner of the living room.

“Are we going to wait for Dad?” Harry asked.

“He’ll do the lights when he gets home, Harry, and we’ll do the tree.”

So Harry and his mother looped tinsel and bells round the tree, then placed the ornaments on. Some of them were clearly hand-made: a delicate crocheted santa, for example, or gold-painted pine-cones— and there were lots that looked like a child had made them.

“Oh, I remember this,” Lily said fondly, pulling out a reindeer face made out of a brown-painted paper plate, googly eyes and pipe-cleaner antlers. The paint was streaky and the googly eyes had been put on lopsidedly. “You were in year three, and I’d been able to get time off to come in and help with the Christmas crafts at your primary school. You wouldn’t let me see until you were all finished, just kept trying to hide it with your arm so it would be a surprise gift for me.”

Harry looked at the reindeer face and wished he was able to remember that. Living with the Dursleys, they hadn’t usually seen the point of having Harry at school in the final days of term just to do crafts— after all, there was a lot of preparation needed for Christmas to be just perfect for Dudley, so Harry had never really gotten to do Christmas crafts. Aunt Petunia had taken the ones Dudley gave her and cooed over them, then taken them up to her room rather than put them on the tree that was intended to impress the neighbours, strategically placed in front of the window as it was.

He was glad that this tree didn’t look anything like the Dursley’s one— it was a lot more individualised than that. And once Lily had opened the second box of ornaments, it became clear that this would be magical . 

Inside Harry a muddle of feelings made him unsure whether he was to laugh or grin or cry. As he cradled a tiny prancing reindeer statue, it pawed gently at his thumb and blew out a huff of breath; Harry was smiling and sure he could never be happier.

After the tree, they had some lunch, then baked and iced gingerbread, and each took several with them to nibble on while relaxing in the living room. Lily nibbled a little of an iced star every time she turned a page of The Town in Bloom while Harry dismembered gingerbread-people, making sure to lick his fingers free from stickiness before he moved a piece of the puzzle he was doing.

When James got home he was singing.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Let your heart be light

From now on

Our troubles will be out of sight

He flung open the door with a flourish and bowed to the astonished Harry when he concluded the verse.

“Oh, go get in your home clothes, you big drama queen,” Lily said, shooing him away with a flap of her book. But Harry could tell that she found it funny from the way the corners of her eyes crinkled.

They had pot-pies for dinner, and told Harry what would be happening over the holidays.

“Sirius and Remus are coming over for Christmas Eve with Marlene and Aubrey,” James said. “But Sirius kept saying he couldn’t wait until then, he needed to see his almost-nephew before that, so him and Remus’ll be round tomorrow arvo too.”

Harry’s mum rolled her eyes. “If he tries to show you his latest experiment, stand well back, because there’s been green slime explosions going on.”

“We’ve fixed that! Well, nearly…”

“And on Christmas we’ll have lunch with your Dad’s parents,” Lily said. “But Boxing Day with mine is off because Petunia’s in Majorca and Mum’s just had a hip replacement. So you won’t need to see Dudley this time, don’t worry.”

Harry was glad she’d said that: he didn’t need to conceal the massive grin at that.

“And—”

Rat-a-tat-tat .

Lily broke off, frowning. 

“Who could that be?” asked Harry’s Dad. “If it’s Rosaline asking for another cup of sugar…”

Lily laughed and swatted at her husband. “She’s got a crush on you, you silly thing. No-one could possibly run out of baking ingredients that often.”

But James grinned mischievously at her, and Harry gaped a little when he said, “No, Lils, she’s got a crush on you — remember that time with the carrot cake?”

And Lily went bright red. “I thought you’d forgotten that,” she hissed. 

James was laughing. “On me— she only comes round when you’re here, and, and—”

Looking back and forth between them, Harry decided he didn’t really want to know. “I’ll get the door, shall I?” he said, standing up.

“Thanks, Harry— and when she gave you that necklace !”

As he left the room and walked to the front door, his parents’ laughter echoed around him.

The doorknob was cold, and his fingers slipped when he turned the key. A waft of cold air entered the house as he pushed the door open. 

“Hi, how can I—” he stopped, stomach dropping. This certainly wasn’t Rosaline . No, even though he hadn’t met the woman, he was sure she didn’t wear long black robes with myriads of buttons— she wouldn’t have shoulder-length dark hair, or a hooked nose— or—

—or look exactly like—

“Mister Potter,” Professor Snape said, eyes looking Harry up and down. “May I come in?”