That evening at home passed much quieter than the previous one where someone else kept cajoling the two of them into activities. It occurred to Harry that if Snape enjoyed playing card games with Candide, he might like playing something else. “Do you like wizard chess?” Harry asked.

“I do not dislike it,” came the even reply.

Harry went and fetched the set from his room and set it up on the small table in the library. He was promptly and utterly beaten two games in a row.

Harry shook his head as he set the board up again.

“You want to play another?” Snape asked in surprise.

“Sure. Why not?”

“You usually are not so sanguine about losing,” Snape pointed out.

“I’m not?” Harry asked.

“You nearly killed yourself on the Quidditch pitch rather than lose to a younger, more skilled opponent.”

“Yeah, but that’s different. I lose at this to Ron all the time.” Harry sat back after putting the last pieces in place to restart. He counted the moves this time. It only took seven to be beaten this game. Harry thought over the sequence before quickly resetting the board. “Can you replay that?” he asked.

Snape did so. Harry saw the trap point this time and sat a while before making another move that threatened one of Snape’s pieces. It was a poor tradeoff though, which he resisted.

“Better,” Snape said as he took Harry’s piece. Harry took Snape’s in exchange. Even so, he could not foresee anything other than a long slow death.

“I’ve lost, can we start again?” At Snape’s nod, Harry reset the board again. After three rounds he finally managed to almost avoid the trap altogether but had sacrificed too many pieces.

“May I make a suggestion?” Snape asked.

“Sure.”

Snape reset the board this time and then made the first few moves on both sides. “Move these two from the back row. That frees the rook to move here and defend this pawn. Then I cannot even set it up.”

Harry looked the board over. “All right,” he said, rubbing his eyes. It was late and he was tired.

After putting the board aside, he went up to his room with a casual goodnight. He slept quite soundly that night.

The day before Christmas, Franklin returned with Ron’s present to Harry and a card from Mrs. Weasley to them both. Dinner was duck, roasted until it had a dark crispy skin. Harry ate until he was groggy from it. As the dinner plates disappeared, he pulled out his Transfiguration text despite his heavy eyes and forced himself to read it.

Snape sat back with something thick in a little metal cup. “You are going to study on Christmas Eve?” he asked in surprise.

Harry looked up from his text. “I was trying to reread this during break and I’m running out of time.”

“You are taking your studies very seriously.”

Harry frowned. “I feel like I’m letting McGonagall down, I’m doing so poorly. I think she thinks I’m really dim.”

Snape tilted his head at him with a look of disbelief. “I am quite certain she does not think that,” he said reassuringly, a little amused even.

“She has no patience with me,” Harry commented.

“She is not known for that. Does she have patience with other students who are struggling?”

“Neville,” Harry said after a moment’s thought. “Somewhat.”

Snape sighed lightly. “Yes, well.”

“That’s different,” Harry guessed.

“In what way?” Snape probed.

Harry opened his mouth to reply then found he didn’t have one. He and Neville were very similar. “I don’t know.” He closed his textbook and leaned his chin on his palms. “Certainly getting picked out for a Mark wasn’t in my best interest,” he said in annoyance. Although if he hadn’t been, where would the wizarding world be now, he wondered before putting such thoughts aside.

“And that is the only difference that you see?”

Harry shrugged. He remembered getting ready for the ball and asked as he pushed his fringe back, “Do you think my scar’s getting fainter?”

Snape appeared surprised by the question as he set his drink down and leaned forward across the table. He reached out and brushed his thumb over the jagged scar, making Harry jump as though a shock had gone through him. Harry rubbed it, decided it wasn’t tingling, and muttered, “That was odd.”

Snape looked at him uncertainly for two breaths before saying quietly, “It might be fading. You keep it obscured most of the time, so it is difficult to say.”

Harry fidgeted with his hands before opening his textbook again. Snape’s eyes remained on him for a long minute before he too went and fetched something to read.

Christmas morning, Harry put on his dressing gown and headed downstairs just after seven. He had gone to bed early and finally felt well rested and alert. He sat before the shining tree and looked over the presents. He imagined Ron was probably opening his right about now and he smiled to himself. Snape stepped over, carrying a cup of coffee. Harry held one of his gifts up to him. Snape placed his cup on the floor and opened it. It wasn’t a bad gift, except that Snape would have figured out that it existed easily enough in his own time.

“I didn’t realize they were ever releasing a supplement,” he said in a very pleased voice as he flipped open the Potions Compendym Update Voluum 1. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry replied. He shook the present from Hermione. “Books all around then,” he quipped as he tore the wrapping. It was a Transfiguration study guide for the N.E.W.T. He sighed at the notion that everyone knew he was struggling. “Ever practical,” he muttered of his friend.

Inside the present from Ron was a vast collection of Weasley Wizard Weezes experimental candies and novelties. “You didn’t see those,” Harry said, closing the lid quickly.

“I am endeavoring to forget,” Snape said stiffly but with a vague humor.

Harry set that box aside and pulled out the present from Neville. This one was a little more mysterious. Inside was a half dome of crystal with something like an egg inside it. Harry peered at it curiously.

“You don’t know what it is?” Snape asked. When Harry shook his head, he went on, “Set it on the window sill for a few days.”

A little worried, Harry set it on the book from Hermione. He handed Snape the other present from him. “It worked well the last time,” Harry commented as Snape opened the wrap to reveal a canister of robusta shade-grown Polynesian coffee. His guardian actually smiled lightly in amusement. “Open yours,” he prompted.

Harry pulled out the present from Snape. He gave the large box a light curious shake. It sounded like clothes. He opened it and pulled out a long black satin cloak with a red velvet lining. “Wow,” Harry said, and stood up to swing it over his shoulders. The pewter clasp was in the shape of a snake. With a huff of false offense at that, he hooked it and turned around. “It’s great. Thank you,” he said honestly as he flicked the corner out to see the flash of red.

Harry sat cross-legged on the floor, still wearing the cloak, and reached for the next present. It was from Gretta and Shazor. Harry hadn’t intentionally grabbed that one ahead of the one from Anita. He pretended he hadn’t thought of any significance to that as he unwrapped it. Inside was a painted mask with a comic happy face. A little confused and intrigued he lifted it out and dropped it immediately back into the tissue when it distorted to an equally overdone look of surprise with a round mouth and brows steeply angled outwards.

“A wizard Carnival mask,” Snape provided. “I assume you have never seen one, given your reaction.”

“No,” Harry breathed. He put the box lid underneath and set the in the box with the others to avoid touching it again. Snape reached over and lifted it out. The mask went neutral, with a flat mouth and brow. Harry watched him turn it over.

“It is from Rio De Janeiro,” he said. “Gretta does like to travel,” he went on as he put it back into the box. It held its neutral expression, even after he released it.

Harry pulled his eyes away from it and over to the next gift on hand-printed paper. Inside was a hand-sewn book of quotes and a few poems, something they had put together at the coven. Harry flipped through and read a few words of wisdom, most a bit trite, before setting it with the others.

Candide’s present he lifted up and, rather than risk breaking it by shaking it, opened the bright wrapping. Inside were handmade dark chocolates, each one just a little different from the next, all of them a little strangely shaped. Harry tried one and made a long noise of delight. Thickly, he said, “These are good.” He lifted out another one, stripped with raspberry color, before he closed the box and stacked it on top of the one from Ron.

“Huh, no jumper,” Harry commented.

“No what?”

“Uh, Mrs. Weasley always knits everyone jumpers with a big letter or picture on them,” Harry said.

“That…would explain a lot,” Snape said carefully. At Harry’s slightly challenging look, he added, “…about your wardrobe.”

“Hey, the thought that someone would actually make something for me, rather than give me some way oversized, badly dyed, hand-me-down was really touching,” he explained. He carried the glass dome and Wheezes up to his room and brought the study guide and chocolates to the dining room.

Snape stepped in a few minutes later and stood near the hearth. “Do you have other holiday rituals you are accustomed to?” he finally asked.

“I don’t have any at all,” Harry said.

Snape took a seat across from him and eyed the chocolates. Harry pushed them over and Snape selected one with an odd daintiness. “Hm,” he said appreciatively as he tasted it. Breakfast arrived on the table, distracting both of them.

“Are you almost ready?” Snape called up from the main hall.

Harry checked himself in the mirror again. He was wearing his dress robes yet again—it had to be a record. His hair looked as good as it ever did. From the balcony, he said, “Right here.”

Snape, looking much better groomed than usual, almost startlingly so, led him to the entryway and pulled down their cloaks. Harry watched as Snape pulled out and examined some thick white sheets from a pocket before re-stowing them.

“What are those?”

“Calling cards.” He held one out. It was like a large Muggle business card but larger and more stylish. “Essential for a such an occasion.”

“I don’t have any,” Harry said. After Freelander had asked for one earlier, he should have thought of this sooner himself.

“Go write up a few on nice parchment. Quickly,” Snape said.

Harry dashed to the library. He cut up a few sheets of thick cream parchment and pulled out the peach quill Dumbledore had given him. Writing carefully, he put his name and address on each: his name in the middle and the address along the bottom, smaller. The only title he had ever been given, by the sweet company that made chocolate frogs, he did not relish using, so he stopped with that. He made up five of them before stashing the quill away.

In the entryway, Snape draped the new cloak over Harry’s shoulders and opened the door. A horse-drawn carriage stood outside on the dark road, flickering lanterns hanging on its sides. “It is the appropriate way to arrive for an event like this,” he explained at Harry’s hesitation.

Harry climbed inside and closed the half door. He leaned out as they pulled away with a snap of a whip. The shod hooves on the road sounded too loud at first, but the sound fell into the background after the first mile. A few cars passed them, accelerating fast. A town went by, the pavements full of people milling in the warm glow from the shops.

Finally, they pulled through a pillared gate of white stone and up a cobbled drive that beat against the wheels. Harry glanced out and caught his breath at the massive building and organized grounds. Their carriage waited in a short line to be unloaded at the steps, where a red carpet had been laid out, dusted with fresh snow. Harry wished he owned better dress robes, or even a Muggle coat with tails.

“Only you would get invited to such a thing, Potter,” Snape commented. He sounded a little put-off, or even jealous.

Harry considered that he should have explained the whole story, but at that moment they pulled up before the grand entrance and the carriage door was opened by a footman. Harry stepped down and waited for his guardian before ascending to the bright light pouring from the doorway.

Inside was a marble floor and two-story hall with a gilt balcony all around. The plaster ceiling was sculpted elaborately with garlands. A dour man in tails bowed and took their cloaks as another stepped up to lead them to the threshold of the next room, which was even larger than the first. Harry could not fathom this as his own. How could all this belong to one person?

Before them a tall, lithe woman with her glasses on a jeweled stick stood with her arm through a stout man’s. The man handed over a card and the butler read it out loudly. “Mr. and Mrs. Trout of the Devonshire Trouts.” From across the room a small man with a pince-nez came over and greeted them warmly as old friends, otherwise there was no acknowledgment, which was surprising, considering the volume of the announcement and the number of people in the ballroom. Harry had had no sense of the scale of the event he had agreed to attend.

“There are Muggle lords here. Peers too,” Snape observed under his breath.

As they stepped forward, Harry glanced at his guardian who looked haughty and alert. If he stuck with that, Harry could manage. Snape handed his card to the man who read it out without seeming to think it out of line. He handed it back. Harry handed him his after. The man had to squint at the oddly bright ink before he announced the name, causing most of the room to stop and turn. Harry fought the flush coming into his cheeks.

Harry waited a moment to receive his handwritten card back, but the man had stashed it in his inside suit pocket with a smile. Harry sighed. Freelander himself came over.

“Good to see you, Mr. Potter. And…Snape, Professor. Correct?” he said, shaking Snape’s hand. “Please come in.”

A waiter swooped in with mugs of mulled mead that spoke profoundly of clove and cinnamon. Harry couldn’t resist. He immediately had to switch hands as he was introduced to two Peers and some solicitor who seemed very self-assured. Harry wondered who was Muggle and who was Witch or Wizard. This wasn’t a problem he had expected to have. Everyone eyed him appraisingly the way Fudge had a habit of doing. After a minute or so of conversation, the looks wore off, thankfully.

They circled the room. Harry realized after the second group that he was being herded by Freelander or his wife or by the butler even. He was grateful when they sat down to dinner at a table that rivaled the house ones at Hogwarts. A man by the name of Ratslinger sat across from them with his young wife or mistress. Harry wasn’t clear which. Harry hadn’t understood quite what he did. The man’s introduction had included Lord of Morals, but he hadn’t caught the rest.

As the first course was set before them all by an army of staff, Harry leaned over to Snape and said, “This party is mostly Muggles, right?”

“Half and half, I would guess,” Snape said.

“Why don’t you think Fudge is here?”

“I expect he was invited. I expect he had several competing events this evening. Do you wish he were here?” Snape asked snidely.

“No. I was just trying to figure things out.”

“By the time you do, you will inextricably be part of it,” Snape said.

After dinner they joined the tour of the house and stables. The two of them lagged behind the group to talk more easily. One garish baroque room flowed into the next, distinguishable only by wall color or a unique tapestry or painting.

Freelander came up to them as the bulk of the tour moved around a turn. He joined them as they stared at a scene of a knight bowing to a dragon who looked to be considering whether roasting or barbecuing would leave the man more tender. “So glad you could make it, Mr. Potter,” he said sincerely. “I don’t think we were quite introduced properly,” he added, looking to Snape.

With a faint sense of doom Harry said, “This is my adoptive parent, Lord Freelander. He teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts.”

Freelander looked Snape over far differently this time. “Huh,” he said, clearly mystified. He looked Harry up and down next. “You appear to be doing well. That is what matters,” he added factually.

They continued following the tour. Harry ignored Snape’s questioning glance until Freelander had moved ahead to explain the origin of a grand landscape painting in a room at the end. Harry stopped and waited until the rest of the group had entirely gathered around for the story. He and Snape were stalling in the wide preceding corridor that seemed to serve no purpose but to hold paintings of other large manors.

“I’m sorry. I should have explained completely,” Harry said quietly.

Snape stood examining a painting that showed a garish fountain of Neptune in the foreground and paths leading in all directions. The one up the center led to a yellow estate house in the distance. He turned and said in a slightly disinterested voice, “Explained what?”

“Freelander wanted to adopt me.”

Snape blinked in surprise. He tilted his face to the ceiling as he took that in. When he spoke it was disbelieving. “And you said ‘no’?”

“Of course I said ‘no’,” Harry replied smartly.

In a bit of a sneer Snape said, “I cannot believe you would have chosen me over this,” as he swept his hand to indicate the room.

Harry, annoyed with Snape’s tone, said, “It wasn’t like that. I turned him down in May.”

“You could have changed your mind. You most likely still could,” Snape said with a harsh undertone that Harry hadn’t heard in a long time. “The Wizard Family Council would jump at the chance to place you in a proper home.”

Harry stared him done. “Don’t do this,” he pleaded quietly. When Snape didn’t respond, Harry said, “I don’t need all this stuff. What would I do with it?”

Snape leaned closer. “It isn’t the ‘stuff’, Potter—it is the power. Something you have been utterly unable to grasp,” he said condescendingly. “You whose idea of undue influence is getting a Cannon’s cloak autographed.”

Harry stared at a bright painting of a lake with a path beside it leading to an open domed building on a bit of a point. He wished he had turned the party invitation down.

As though that thought might have summoned the man, Freelander approached. “You have fallen far behind,” he said in a gracious tone.

Harry looked to Snape, who had masked his expression and now simply appeared as restrained as many of the other guests. They followed through the next wing and out to the stables, which were connected by a covered walkway to the main house.

The stall doors each had a brass plaque with the horse’s name. The first one said, “Studebaker.” The massive brown animal turned and studied them before turning back to the pile of hay in the corner.

“Steeplechase, this one,” Freelander said with the same tone of voice Ron used to discuss Quidditch. “As is the next.” They were given a little history and siring on each one as they went.

At the end of that row they turned and headed back. “What about these?” Harry asked of the next row of stalls. A beautiful black horse with a long white blaze peered out curiously from one of them.

“Those are just the riding horses,” Freelander said dismissively.

The black horse whinnied as though insulted. Another farther down answered from inside its stall. Harry stood glued to that spot imagining that. When he looked up at Snape, his guardian had an expression that said figures. Harry shot him a sharp look in return before they followed Freelander back out the way they had entered.

Brooms were better than horses, Harry told himself. Except a broom didn’t exude the raw power and borderline wildness the black horse had. He shook off the regret that tried to weasel its way into him.

The carriage ride home was silent until they passed the intervening town. Harry felt he needed to say something. He adjusted his cloak, grateful for it. “The cloak is warm. Thanks,” he said.

“You are welcome,” Snape said quietly, barely audible over the clopping of the hooves outside. He sounded uncertain. Harry didn’t know what to say, feared saying the wrong thing. He closed his eyes and dozed off to the regular rocking of the carriage.

Back in Shrewsthorpe, they alighted and entered the unlit house. Harry hung up his cloak and stepped into the dim hall. He waved the chandelier up brighter and turned to wait for Snape to emerge from the entryway. When he did, he gave Harry a vaguely disgusted look. With an ache of frustration, Harry huffed at him, unable to find words to make the situation all right again.

“You prefer this?” Snape asked snidely with a wave of his arm to indicate the main hall.

“Yes,” Harry insisted.

“You are a fool,” Snape said as he turned to stalk off. Harry followed close behind, grasping for a retort. Partway up the stairs, Snape turned on him and said, “They owe you everything, those wizards and Muggles tonight. You should have taken everything you could from them.”

Harry considered that Snape saw the world very differently than he did. “I don’t want what they have,” he said.

Snape shook his head with a toss of his hair and continued up to his room.

At breakfast Snape seemed to have calmed down. Harry was sitting at the table working on holiday assignments when his guardian came in. His first reaction to seeing Harry there appeared the opposite of the night before. Harry thought he almost looked grateful, but covered it so quickly, it was hard to be certain.

Harry sighed and bent back to writing about the formation of Goblin monetary law in the fifteen hundreds. A cup of black coffee appeared before Snape and he drank it in silence as Harry worked.

After long minutes, Snape said quietly, “Getting everything finished?”

“Yep,” Harry replied, glad Snape sounded as normal as he did.

Another long pause. “Need help with anything?”

Harry hesitated, then said with a grin, “You could look over my Potions essay…”

Later in the day, the sun came out of the clouds. Harry went up to his room to exchange the textbooks he was working on and to put away his mail, including a letter from Ron that was incoherent with gratitude for the Cannon’s cloak. At first Harry didn’t notice anything, but as he turned to the door he suddenly swung around again. The window was now nicely framed in a dark green ivy. Harry stepped over to it. It was emerging from the glass dome from Neville that he had placed on the sill and forgotten about. Tiny little buds were on the branches, hinting at a variety of colors between the green capsules around them.

He stepped back and admired it. The room did look much better that way, much less wintery.

Harry was asleep, calmly asleep, when a noise woke him. It was the noise of the logs in the hearth shifting. They made the hollow, high, rasping sound of the coal they had become. Dark and light flickered in his mind, flame and shadow. He rolled over upon recognizing the noise, and pulled the covers up a bit higher against the chill of the room. The noise repeated, sounding less natural. Harry raised his head and found Snape adding fresh wood to the fire.

Finally, his guardian stood and brushed off his hands. He turned and noticed Harry was awake.

“You’re the house-elf tonight?” Harry teased.

“It is especially cold and she had not come around yet,” Snape explained. He came over to the bed and stood above him. “You seem to be sleeping well.”

“Really well.” He couldn’t remember any dreams at all, just restful darkness. “When are we going back to Hogwarts?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

Harry nodded and mumbled, “All right.” Fleetingly, he realized that this had been the first normal Christmas he had ever had. Gifts from grandparents, even, sort of. “Thank you for the nice Christmas,” Harry said as Snape moved to the door.

The figure in the flickering dimness turned. “I am glad it turned out to be so. Good night, Harry.”

“’Night,” Harry said back just before the door clicked closed.

The Weasley household was strewn here and there with the remains of presents being opened when Harry stepped out of the Floo. He had selfishly been enjoying his time at home, but Ron’s third owl where he mentioned his mum inviting him over, brought him to the Weasley hearthstone. Harry kicked a half-burned strip of pink ribbon off his shoe and savored the fact that for the first time he needn’t view the Burrow with deeply buried longing.

Mrs. Weasley came downstairs and gave him a firm hug. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry greeted her.

“Happy Christmas, Harry dear. Did you get everything you wanted?” she asked, tweaking him on the chin.

Harry considered that his lack of jealous pang upon arriving at the Burrow was good a present as he could have imagined. “Yes, but, uh, I didn’t receive a jumper, I don’t think,” he teased.

“Didn’t do any knitting this year, dear,” she said.

“No?”

“Been trying out something different—would you like to see?”

More footsteps sounded on the stairs and Ron appeared. “Harry! Oh, Mum’s showin’ you her new craft, what?” He sounded a little pained. From a large wooden sewing box beside the rocking chair, Mrs. Weasley pulled out and proudly held up a set of colorfully decorated robes. “She’s inta needlepoint now,” Ron explained.

“What do you think?” Mrs. Weasley asked, shaking the garment flat. It was festooned with a bizarre array of shapes: flowers along the cuff and collar, but dragons on the breast and then—only partially filled in—gnomes along the hem. Even if muter colors had been selected, the design would still not hold out in even wizarding public.

“That’s…” Harry began, trying hard for words in the face of her proud expression. “Really…expertly sewn.” Which was true. He hadn’t imagined needlepoint gnomes looking quite so realistic. And horrifically ugly.

Ron leaned over. “Thank Merlin she’s been too slow to get at my dress robes yet,” he whispered.

As he and Snape took the Floo back to Hogwarts castle before the next term, Harry wondered at how he was allowed to skip the train that everyone else was required to take. Not that he was the only student around in the days before classes restarted. Four other students had stayed over because of family schedules or problems. Harry joined them in the Great Hall the afternoon he arrived.

Pansy Parkinson gave him a dissuading look at he sat down, but she was the only Slytherin, so she remained silent. There was also a second-year Gryffindor named Desmond Hern and two fourth-years from Hufflepuff Harry didn’t know the names of until they were introduced as Quinton Alden and Frobin Waxwing. All but Parkinson seemed surprised to have him sitting there.

“Did you have a good Christmas?” Desmond asked.

“Yes. Thanks,” Harry replied as he took out his Transfiguration textbook.

“Professor Snape get you everything you wanted for Christmas?” Pansy asked in a rude tone. The other students stiffened.

Harry shrugged. “I didn’t ask for anything. But I got some nice things anyway,” he answered calmly.

“You really live with him?” Desmond asked, sounding uncertain how he felt about that.

“Yes,” Harry replied, sounding much more annoyed than he intended. Desmond visibly closed his mouth tightly and bent over his own school work.

A few minutes later the two Hufflepuffs were arguing in close whispers. Frobin finally shushed the other and asked Harry in a pained whisper, “There isn’t any sign of You-Know-Who coming back, is there?”

Harry looked at her. She had short hair pulled nonetheless into two tight ponytails on the top of her head. Her truly worried brown eyes looked large in the cloudy light of the hall. With certainty, Harry replied, “No.” She relaxed a little at this answer, but not entirely. “I would know,” Harry insisted. “My scar tingled or burned when he was doing much of anything and it hasn’t done anything at all. In fact it’s fading,” he added, rubbing it unconsciously.

“Really?” Frobin asked hopefully. All eyes at the table were staring at him, wide-eyed.

“Really,” Harry replied with extra assurance, returning to his textbook in the hope that they would return to theirs.