On Christmas Day, Harry woke to a pile of presents at the foot of her bed. Presents!
She opened the smallest parcel first. It was actually from her aunt and uncle. A fifty pence piece.
Hedwig must have flown there to make sure she got a present.
Tears welled up in her eyes.
She wiped them, telling herself to not be silly. Had she really expected anything different?
And there were more presents.
The next parcel was not much bigger than a box of matches. It contained a glass phial, inside of which was a tiny, perfect lily blossom made of silver.
At the top of the phial, there was no cork, instead the glass was closed, and there was a hole you could put a necklace through.
Harry looked in the box again. There, coiled at the bottom of the box, was a simple leather string.
Who could have given her something so beautiful?
Hermione?
At last, Harry carefully put the glass phial back in the parcel and placed it on her nightstand.
The other parcels were bigger.
One contained a wooden flute from Hagrid, another a beautiful emerald-green jumper. From the Half-Blood Prince? He had often urged her to wear warm clothes, after all. Just … he was male and knitting wasn’t a very masculine hobby, was it?
There was a parcel with chocolate frogs from Hermione, with a letter, so then the beautiful phial probably was not from her.
At last there were only two parcels left. One, Harry could tell, contained more chocolate frogs, so she opted to open the other first.
This, too, was clothes. A very thin, silvery fabric. When she had fully unwrapped it, she realized was a cloak. Far too thin to keep warm, but perhaps it was magical?
The letter that came with it did not explain what it was, only that it had been her father’s.
She put it on and looked down.
With a cry of surprise, she realized she could not see her body anymore.
Hastily, she took it off, and to her relief, everything was back to normal.
Was this dangerous? The letter was not signed, and it was not the handwriting of the Half-Blood Prince, of that she was sure. Besides, he had always signed his letters.
With nothing else left to do, she opened the second parcel of chocolate frogs.
There was a letter enclosed with this one, too.
“Dear Harry,
first of all, I wish you a merry Christmas.
Of course I meant the part about wanting you back. Or do you think I just so happened to be taking a stroll through the Forbidden Forest?”
Harry chuckled a bit. The Prince didn’t seem to like to talk about feelings, so it wasn’t unusual for him to joke about it.
It was strange, though – Snape had a very similar kind of humour, only his was nasty. Only recently, Snape had said something about not wanting them to kill themselves with botched potions because he would have to scrape them off the classroom floor and it would be too much work.
If the Prince had written the exact same thing, Harry would have assumed he just didn’t want to admit that he would be sad if someone died.
“You can be my apprentice if you so wish, but of course I will not be able to dedicate as much time to teaching you as one usually would.”
Despite this, there was a lengthy explanation on Polyjuice potion, plenty enough to write that essay for Snape.
“You are, I am afraid, mistaken to think that you could defend yourself against your cousin better if you were a boy. The admittedly rather substantial male advantage in physical strength only manifests at the start of puberty, as far as I am informed. Your cousin’s advantage is more likely to be a result of his being massively overweight.”
Harry frowned. Was he just writing that to make her feel better? But it was true that she had won some fights against Dudley’s friends who weren’t as big.
“In my own experience, a thin and short boy will get beaten up just as much as a girl. Or perhaps more. Some muggle parents might actually teach their sons to not hit girls, while neglecting to tell them that it is cowardly to beat up smaller boys, too. Though perhaps this makes no difference, as most parents seem to entirely neglect the moral education of their children.”
In his own experience?
Did that mean he got beaten up as child? She couldn’t really imagine it – he was so clever, and he hadn’t been the least bit afraid of the hags.
But of course, he couldn’t have known that much about magic when he was a child. So she figured it was possible.
“On the topic of protecting you, I admit that I cannot always be present. That is the reason for my other Christmas present. The small parcel contains a phial with a tiny silver blossom in it. If you break the glass – it will break easily if you want it to – and touch the blossom, you will be transported to a place where I can find you. Be warned, though, that place is not completely safe, and you should use the blossom only in the direst emergency. “
So it was from him! And not just pretty, but also useful.
Harry felt strange all of a sudden. Her chest felt warm when it hadn’t felt so warm before.
Was she sick? But it didn’t hurt, so it probably wasn’t worth bothering Madam Pomfrey with.
She continued reading.
“It will not work while you are inside the wards of Hogwarts, either. The wards surround the castle and the parts of the grounds you are allowed to access.
In case you are in danger in Hogwarts, try to get to your common room, or, if the attacker knows the password, your dorm. You should be safe there in most cases. And of course, you can always ask the paintings to fetch a teacher.
Which reminds me … your friend Hermione, upon informing me of your disappearance, mentioned that she, and I infer you, too, think one of your teachers wants to steal something valuable the headmaster has hidden in the school?
It is by no means impossible for this to be the case, but I am not so sure about the suspect. If a teacher was there only to steal something, would he not take care to make himself popular with everyone, as to not be suspected?”
The Prince had a point there. Snape wasn’t pretending to be innocent very well. In fact, he didn’t really pretend that at all.
“My guess is that any head of house is not a likely suspect. They are screened more rigorously than the other teachers, and have more to lose.”
It was strange to think about that someone actually hired teachers. Even stranger, to think that Dumbledore must have made a decision to hire Snape.
There had been a nasty teacher who was very much like Snape in primary school, but back then, Harry had never thought about the fact that someone must have looked at her and decided that she was a good teacher.
Perhaps really very few people wanted to be teachers, so they had to take everyone?
“Then, there is the fact that no teacher for Defense has lasted more than a year, for decades. When I was a student, they changed every year. Even for those who fully intended to keep teaching, something would always happen to render them unable to.
Coincidence? Unlikely. I suspect a curse. Be that as it may, the teacher for Defense against the Dark Arts would be in a perfect position to steal something, as he is unlikely to keep the job in any case.
And it is somewhat suspicious that your teacher for Defense is so afraid of everything that your friends thought him incapable of saving you. Why would someone like this apply for such a position?”
Hermione had mentioned the same, and Harry had wondered, too. They had just assumed he must have seen something really terrible so that he was so nervous now, but in that case, it would have been a better idea to just teach something less frightening, wouldn’t it?
“So I caution you to not be too sure of both your mistrust in some and your trust in others.
To determine whom you can and cannot trust, do not think about whom you feel most comfortable suspecting because you never liked him anyway, think about how someone who is up to something would act.
And while I understand that you may feel tempted to play detective, you need to always keep in mind that Dumbledore is not nearly as senile as he likes to pretend. If he has, indeed, hidden something valuable in the school, then this object is perfectly safe.
You, on the other hand, could be in danger if a criminal notices that you caught him.
So please, do stay out of this, or at least limit your detective work to observing your teachers in lessons and refrain from sneaking around where you have no business being, and, more importantly, where no other teachers or students are around.”
Dumbledore pretended to be senile?
And the Prince thought she had a chance of catching the would-be thief, but didn’t want her to because it was too dangerous?
Her chest felt strangely warm again.
Perhaps the strange cloak caused this?
She eyed it suspiciously.
Then she quickly read the rest of the letter, which was mostly repetition of the warnings in the first half, got dressed and went down the stairs to talk to Ron.
Ron was wearing a jumper, much the same as the one she had gotten, with a big R on the chest.
“Mum gives everyone in the family one of those every year”, he explained when she asked about it. “And mine is always maroon.”
Harry couldn’t bring herself to pity him very much – at least he got something. Something more than fifty pence.
“I got something strange”, she told him. “It’s a kind of cloak, but too thin to be really of any use, except, when I put it on, I couldn’t see myself anymore.”
They talked about it some more, and Harriet brought it down to the common room, where Ron confirmed that it was an invisibility cloak.
And probably not dangerous.
“There’s something else”, Harriet said, hiding the cloak under her new emerald green jumper. “It wasn’t directly when wearing the cloak, but while opening my other presents, I had this strange feeling.” She put a hand on her heart to show him. “It felt so warm, it’s weird.”
Ron stared at her blankly for a moment, then laughed out loud. “You got a really heartwarming letter, huh?”
Heartwarming? That was a word? “You mean …?”
“It’s normal”, Ron said at last, after calming down a bit. “I mean, it never happened to me, I think, but that must be the reason for the word, right?”
So she didn’t have some deadly disease. That was good. “But … what does that word mean? I don’t think the Dursleys ever used it.”
Ron frowned. “I guess they wouldn’t. Heartwarming is … a soppy story, kind of like … when an orphan gets adopted by a really nice family or something like that.” It took a few seconds until the penny dropped, and Ron looked mortified. “Uh. Sorry. I didn’t mean …”
“It’s alright. Yeah, I guess the letter was heartwarming.”
“Was it from Hermione? She only gave me a normal Christmas card.”
“No, it was …” She quickly looked around. Most of the other Gryffindors didn’t seem to be up yet. It was only a handful of people, minding their own business. “The Prince wrote again. He said I could be his apprentice.”
“Wicked!”
“It doesn’t mean much, though, does it?”
“I don’t know, I mean, a real apprenticeship would mean you can’t go to Hogwarts anymore. It’s something of an alternative to school. Dad often complains that it is abused by foreign witches and wizards who move here. That they don’t send their children to Hogwarts where they could learn English, but send them back to their country of origin for an apprenticeship, and then they come back with no knowledge of the British law and go around enchanting carpets to fly and stuff.”
“So he dislikes it because it makes more work for him?” Harry recalled Ron mentioning once that his father’s job was something to do with illegal enchantments of muggle things.
“Yeah, I guess it’s that. Mum says she doesn’t want the apprenticeship system abolished, as she can see why some people would not want to send their children off to boarding school.”
Harry nodded. Aunt Petunia had agreed to send Dudley to Smeltings, but she had often mentioned how she didn’t like him being away for so long. “But wouldn’t the children move away when they become apprentices, too?”
The Prince had mentioned something about the apprentice moving in with the master.
“That depends. You could always arrange something locally. The foreigners who do it tend to send their children back to the village they came from, so it is far away, but traditionally, it wouldn’t be. Mum once mentioned something about the Lovegood girl being better off with an apprenticeship, but you don’t know that from me. I just kinda overheard it, and she told me not to tell anyone.”
Strange. Why would you want to keep that a secret? “Did she mention why not? It seems harmless enough.”
“The whole family is strange, and I don’t think the daughter would fit in at Hogwarts at all, so perhaps it’s that. She’s Ginny’s age, but Ginny never plays with her, says she’s weird. I guess mum doesn’t want the Lovegoods to know she thinks they’re weird, too.”
Weird. Harry had been the weird child at school. “How can you be weird when you’re a witch? I mean, I never fit in with the Dursleys, but they’re muggles.”
Ron thought about that for a moment. “They believe in strange things.”
“Like magic?”
“What? No, magic isn’t strange. No, they believe in creatures that don’t exist and weird conspiracy theories.”
“You know, muggles don’t know that magic exists. Or dragons. Or anything. But they’re wrong, obviously.”
Ron nodded. “Yeah, I guess, but we hide all that from muggles, so it’s no wonder they don’t believe in it.”
Harry considered pointing out that someone else might be hiding things from witches and wizards, but then remembered that there were plenty muggles who believed nonsensical stuff that had nothing to do with magic. So perhaps that family was really just strange.
Still, she resolved she would try and be nice to the strange girl. She knew how it felt to be an outcast.
“So, you think if I became the Prince’s apprentice, I could go move in with him?” Away from the Dursleys … but he had probably not meant that, had he? He had said he didn’t really have the time …
“I guess, but you don’t want that. He’s brilliant at Defense and Potions, but no one is a genius at everything, so you get a better quality education at Hogwarts.” It sounded like Ron was quoting someone. “Besides, you can have so much more fun here.”
Harry smiled. So that was it. Ron just didn’t want her to leave. And she didn’t want to leave. “Yeah, I guess it’s better if things stay like they are. Anyways, I learnt much more from the Prince about Potions than Snape could teach us in two years!”
They were interrupted when Fred and George marched past them, somehow having managed to throw Percy over their shoulders. They berated him for trying to spend Christmas in his dorm, so Harry decided it was a family thing and he probably didn’t need rescuing.
“So …” She began when they’d followed the twins and Percy to the Great Hall and sat down for breakfast. “This apprenticeship thing, is it a big deal?” Would he do it for someone he didn’t really like? “Would people just take anyone as apprentice?”
“No way.” Ron bit into a slice of buttered toast and continued on with his mouth still full. “It’s a big deal alright. Dad once mentioned a colleague who has immigrated from Iceland. He’d almost gotten her to send her daughter to Hogwarts, but then, a really good apprenticeship option opened up, and you just don’t say no to that. Not in Iceland, anyways.”
“So, if a really powerful wizard wants your child as apprentice, you just agree? Because it’s such a great opportunity?” Harry poured some Cheery Owls into a bowl and added milk. She felt like a sugary treat right now, even though she knew sugary breakfast cereals had probably helped Dudley get to the size he was. He ate a ton of them. Not Cheery Owls, obviously, but some muggle brand.
“Basically, yeah. Must have been a witch in that case, traditional apprenticeship is always with a witch for girls, wizard for boys.”
What? The Prince had never mentioned that. “But …”
“Yeah, I figure that Half-Blood Prince guy isn’t exactly a stickler for traditions.”
“There was a boy. When he rescued me. I told you there were lots of fake Harrys. And one of them was a boy, and he went on about how he’d be just the perfect apprentice, I think.” The memory of that night was a bit foggy. Harry took a spoonful of Cheery Owls and let them melt in her mouth.
“So they thought he would take that boy? The most obvious fake? Just take that thing home and make it his apprentice?” Ron gestured with the half-eaten slice of toast in his hand. “I don’t want to know what would have happened if he did. Scary to imagine.”
Harry nodded.
She had never told Ron about her dream of being a boy. He wouldn’t understand. She had hoped the Prince would be more sensitive …
“I don’t understand why he didn’t. That boy … he was … better than me.” Though the Prince had said he wasn’t.
“Even if, that boy wasn’t you.” Ron took another bite of toast.
“It’s just ... I … we had a disagreement. The Prince and me. I was pretty nasty to him.” And she still hadn’t apologized. And he still had given her a present. “If I was him, I would have taken one of the versions who were nice to him and apologized.”
Ron stared at her. “You don’t mean that. If it was the other way round, would you just go rescue some better version of him?”
She tried to imagine it. They wouldn’t even have to look different, she’d never seen his face. But she knew what her favourite version of him would say. “I … I don’t know. I would take the real one, but …” Perhaps just because she didn’t think the fake was human. It could be dangerous.
“Of course you would. Take me, I’ve been a fan of the Chudley Cannons ever since I was old enough to care about Quidditch. They haven’t been top of the league even once in that time. I could just go be fan of some other team that is top of the league, but then that wouldn’t be the real Cannons. No true fan would do that.”
And no true friend would just exchange their friend for a better version.
Chapter 9