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As had been the case in his previous life, albeit now it was happening at a much younger physical age, Harry's Christmas vacation was slowly being butchered and partitioned between various shareholders and squeezed for whatever it was worth.
Firstly, it was being sabotaged by his interest in self-improvement. Christmas was always a time period that he used to slightly lighten his relentless pursuit of wand magic and focus on other avenues. Unfortunately, while those other avenues had used to consist of sorcery only, he now found himself practising his co-apparition with the reproachful and high-salaried Dobby and the enchanting by studying the broken vanishing cabinet with his magic sense.
While at Hogwarts, he'd also had time to focus on these two activities. However, he'd always been leery of disappearing too much and too often in case anyone noticed. Now? Well, his sojourns into his very own personal cave became a daily activity, and while his analyses of the enchantments were still progressing relatively slowly, his Dobby-assisted teleportation project was coming along quite nicely.
They were disappearing and reappearing all throughout the country like an office-working German tourist who wanted to visit all the countries in the world by the time they retired and thus only had five days per country.
He, Dobby and Chanithachuah went to Manchester, Doncaster, Leicester, Liverpoolceister and many other -castrums.
Harry and Dobby were primarily focusing on working out the kinks of the collaboration - cough - Harry being carried in terms of mobility by his house elf - cough so that appearing in the same room as an immensely powerful and dangerous wizard wouldn't happen again. The sorting hat was mostly along for the sights.
His greed for self-improvement was just as harmful as his very literal greed for money, as he also couldn't stop himself from planning a daily session with Draco to teach the young boy occlumency.
Harry was absolutely raking in cash through their compensation plan, which had quietly been raised by Narcissa without an explanation, not that it needed one.
Similarly, Harry's least favourite part about teaching had always been dealing with unmotivated students, but after having presumably heard about Harry's supposed mind arts prowess from his mother, it was most likely impossible for Harry to find a more motivated student than Draco Malfoy.
The boy was so hard-working that his progress almost scared Harry, and it became apparent to him by virtue of deduction and also of mind-reading that the boy was actually spending almost eight hours a day on occlumency.
The fervour was something that Harry had only ever seen matched in himself when he'd been stuck in the depths of his mind-arts-induced paranoia, wearing the disillusioned hat every waking hour of the day.
Greed for money and progress, alongside his other responsibilities, thus sucked away at Harry's free time as ruthlessly as any weekday during the school year did, and he found himself as stressed as the day that he'd arrived back home.
It didn't help that all of this was compounded by the fact that he was set to attend a New Year's gala as invited by Snape, which technically cut his available free time even more.
Harry recognised his workaholism but couldn't quite stop himself as magic was too wondrous to ever get tired of. Similarly, he would only be this young once, and it was better to make progress at an earlier time so that one could profit for longer afterwards.
Additionally, he was fairly sure that it was only his youthful body that was allowing him to survive with the schedule he was making it suffer. He'd used to have a similar amount of energy in his previous life at this age, just that he'd wasted most of it on frivolities and video games.
Now, with the energy of a teenager, the willpower of an adult and the work ethic of someone who loved their job way too much, there was nothing standing in his way of rewriting the definition of a holiday.
There was only one day that he decided to free up completely, one day where he wouldn't go to the cave, practice with Dobby, or teach Draco, and that was Christmas day.
He woke up late that day, groggily blinking away the tiredness that had accumulated from sleeping, if anything, too much.
He stared at the ceiling of his room at the Dursleys, forgetting for a moment where he was.
He'd gone to sleep at what, 22h? He looked to the side at the digital clock on his nightstand.
He hadn't set an alarm. It was now 9 in the morning.
"Merry Christmas," the sorting hat said from the top of his wardrobe as it bobbed its head to the soft sound of music coming from downstairs.
Petunia must have already woken up to start on lunch; he could smell a roast slowly tenderising away in the oven.
"I feel like I slept for ages," Harry mumbled as he stumbled out of bed, almost tripping and falling face-first into a small tower of limited edition and rare music plates.
"You were quite out of it," Chanithachuah remarked. "I'm surprised the music didn't wake you up. It's been going for a few hours now."
Harry turned an ear towards the sounds, noting that it wasn't just music coming from downstairs, but specifically Christmas music. He pulled a face. His aunt liked to play a few records on repeat on Christmas until someone went to stop her.
AC/DC had released a new album recently, he'd have to go and see if he could make her change the track. "The Razor's Edge" was great, and contemporary music was finally reaching the cut-off point from which Harry could actually enjoy it more. The issue with the fact that one's music taste developed in one's teens was that Harry still had two decades before he could re-experience the renaissance of true classics such as Despacito and the acclaimed peak of Mr Worldwide.
"You get used to tuning this sort of music out," Harry remarked to the hat as he quickly cast a few hygiene charms at himself, magically replacing the entire morning routine with a swish of his secondary wand. Twenty minutes saved every day. He hadn't seen the inside of a shower in years!
"I am become a gamer, destroyer of nose," Harry muttered to himself as he put on a comfortable pair of socks, jogging pants and a long-sleeve shirt.
"Music is always underappreciated until it's gone," the hat snuffed in an elitist manner before shrugging.
Harry was considering whether he wanted to go out yet or maybe lay back in bed to catch up on his muggle readings. Phenomenology of the Spirit was starting to merit another reread, as was Critique of Pure Reason. A light read to get his mind off the dense magical technical tomes he'd been consuming the past few days.
Then he got an idea. He looked at the brown leather hat sitting in his wardrobe.
He'd never really introduced Chanithachuah to anyone in the magical world, for fears that his presence being discovered would lead to the artefact being taken away and locked under a stronger key this time. But, well, his family were muggles. The only interaction he'd allowed with them was bribing Dudley to come to his room and change the records if he wasn't there and the hat wasn't with him. Also, once he'd shown it to his uncle and aunt if he remembered correctly…
"Makes me think," he said out loud. "Our deal was that you'd teach me the mind arts and show you the world and its music."
"You've fulfilled your part," the hat agreed. "Although I have to say, what you consider music is sometimes beyond me. I can still hear that thing you called Techno in my nightmares sometimes; the club was also completely deranged. So many minds tainted by substances!"
"Well, ignoring your understandably outdated taste in music," Harry said. "How would you like to go down and meet my family on a more serious basis? Christmas can be considered a great family tradition, and while I'm sure you've seen a few at Hogwarts, it's probably not the same."
Chanithachuah paused at this invitation, seemingly not having expected it. He didn't say anything for a few moments. "In the grace that the invitation was given, I'll accept, although, isn't your family a bit wary of magic? They had a lot of questions the last time they saw me. Do you think it's a good idea?".
"For all they know, you're just a talking hat that teaches some mental tricks and sorts students," Harry retorted. "We both may know you're more dangerous than a dragon, but they don't." He paused as well, lightly blushing. "And we'll, accumulatively, I've probably spent more time with you than I have with them, considering that I wore you everywhere for so many years. You're sort of, well, family as well, aren't you?"
Chanithachuah laughed out loud at his words, seemingly happy. "Well, in the context of the invitation, then, who am I to refuse?" he asked. "Let's go and meet the family then, for real this time."
The agreement prompted Harry to extend a hand towards the sentient artefact and to summon it downwards, taking a step forward to have it land with pin-point accuracy on his head.
'Shouldn't we then also be introducing Dobby?' the hat asked curiously as they left the room and started walking down the stairs.
'Maybe next year,' Harry sent back. 'I've known Dobby for less than half a year, and he's growing on me, but, well, let's not shock my family too much, ey?' Harry said as he entered the living room, where his uncle's eyes immediately snapped away from the newspaper he was reading to look at first his nephew and then the hat on his head. He blinked.
"Morning to you two," he said without much reaction as he brought up a cup of coffee to sip at it.
"Merry Christmas," Chanithachuah replied earnestly.
Vernon blinked once in surprise. "You celebrate as well?" he asked.
Harry felt the sorting hat give the hat equivalent of a shrug. "We called it Yule back then, but yes, essentially."
Vernon shook his head, "Bloody crazy that, a thousand years," he reminisced before loudly barking. "Pet, you won't believe it, the bloody hat celebrates Christmas," he called to Petunia, who was clanking away in the kitchen.
"Merry Christmas," Petunia called from out of the kitchen. "Will you be joining us then?" she asked as she came out, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Eh, yes, it seems so," the hat said.
"Well," Petunia started. "I'm glad Harry has finally brought a friend over for the holidays, even if it is a talking hat. Where's that nice girl, Penny, by the way?" she asked chidingly.
Harry shrugged. "We see each other so much at school anyway."
Petunia tutted. "Any dietary restrictions?" she then asked, gaze pointed slightly up off Harry's head.
"I don't think I have any; in fact, I don't think I can," the hat replied.
"He likes music, though; maybe we can switch the record," Harry interjected, tired of the Christmas music.
Petunia shook her head, scoffed, and walked back into the kitchen. "Do what you must," she said.
"Brings a friend who can't even eat," Harry heard her grumble.
"That was less dramatic than I expected," Chanithachuah commented.
Harry stood there, perturbed a bit. Was he not cool anymore? Was there no shock he could elicit in his family? Where were the days of disapproval? Had he become a conformist?
"Is that the talking hat you told us about last time," a young voice suddenly said behind Harry.
The redhead turned around to see Dudley in his bright red pyjamas standing at the doorway of the living room, looking greedily at the presents under the Christmas tree.
"His name's Chanithachuah," Harry introduced.
Dudley scrunched his face. "Is that Hebrew?" he asked.
Harry goggled at his younger cousin. Why did he know that the name was Hebrew? The dichotomy between the stupid Dudley in the books and the smart Dudley in the fanfiction was truly too much. Was this gap moe?
"Yes, it is actually, young man," the sorting hat said kindly. "I see you'd make a great Ravenclaw."
Dudley crossed his arms, seemingly thinking about something. "Would I?" he eventually asked. He knew all about the Hogwarts houses since his cousin had told him, but from what he'd heard, he didn't really want to end up in Ravenclaw. This might have been because Harry had introduced the houses to him as follows: Gryffindor was for the dumb show-off jocks, Slytherin was for wannabe politicians and businessmen with more cringe than brain, Ravenclaw was for the pretentious dimwits who had at best knowledge and no idea how to apply it, and at worst neither.
"I'd rather be Hufflepuff," the blonde boy eventually said. Hufflepuff, to him, had been described as the place where hard work met loyalty, the holy legions of the material rose up to meet the societal Zeitgeist causing infrastructural decay through the false application of dialectal ideology and also there was hot chocolate… and cookies.
"A wise choice, doubtlessly," Chanithachuah said with a wise voice. "Would you like to put it to the test then?" he asked.
Harry paused, never having considered that the hat could sort muggles, but well, why not? House affiliation was just a matter of personality, not of magical qualities.
He suddenly started salivating. With the sorting hat, sorting muggles… He was sure that when the Harry Potter craze started in a few years, there would be millions lining up to pay him their entire savings to get sorted by the actual sorting hat.
Cold reality suddenly washed over him. There would be no Harry Potter books in this world and, therefore, no adoring fans to pay him the big bucks. He consoled himself with the fact that Apple, Nortel, Microsoft, Bitcoin and Nvidia would make him a billionaire regardless.
Dudley meanwhile seemed to be considering if he wanted the magical artefact on his head, unknowingly spiritually pissing off millions of Harry Potter fans who would kill to be in his situation.
"But the chance of a good house is only 3/4s," the boy muttered, counting the situation off on his fingers. "What if I end up in the house of show-offs, narcissists or dimwits?" he wondered aloud.
"What is all this waiting? Just let the hat do its job," Vernon guffawed, standing up from where he'd been watching the interaction and plucking the hat from Harry's head, putting it on his own greying one. "Well, what shall it be?" he asked loudly.
"A fascinating dilemma, sorting an adult," Chanithachuah muttered legibly, talking out loud to make the scene into even more of a spectacle. "Lots of bravery… You'd point a shotgun at a giant if you had to. Smart as well, well, street smart."
Vernon blushed at the street-smart comment, and Harry didn't know if he was insulted or flattered.
"You know how to integrate yourself into a crowd. You could have been director, but your passions took precedence," the hat continued. "Hard-working, at least when it interests you. But the courage, the determination, there's only one choice, and IT BETTER BE GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted loudly to the excited clapping of Harry and Dudley.
Harry even idly snapped his fingers behind his back, his wand far enough away that he could allow himself a small joke. His uncle's jumper suddenly swirled with a mix of colours, changing from its navy blue to a bright garish red, a malformed lion's head roaring on the front.
Vernon grumbled. "Well, at least it's the same house as your sister, eh, pet?" he asked aloud to a spectating but silent Petunia, who was leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms.
He then took off the hat and handed it to Dudley. "Put it on, you little Slytherin. I know for a fact how much chocolate there was in the cupboard yesterday, and there were two bars missing this morning," he grumbled.
Petunia coughed demonstratively.
Vernon ran red again, perfectly matching the new colour of his sweater. "Well, my beautiful wife noticed, of course; she simply informed me," he coughed into his hand. "Go on, you rascal," he urged his son.
Dudley dubiously looked at the hat before shrugging and putting it on.
"A thirst for knowledge. Do you wish to prove yourself? Show that there's not only one genius in the family. You could be great, you know," the hat started muttering.
Dudley frantically shook his head at the words, causing a change in the context of the words.
"But of course, you simply want to prove yourself to yourself. Not a very Slytherin trait, is it. But you're also determined. You could shine in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, but the need to know is outweighed by the loyalty, so much of it… It better be, HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted.
Dudley self-satisfiedly took off the hat and preened under the applause of his parents and cousin. "I never doubted it, in fact," he said snobbishly and handed the hat over to his mother.
Petunia took the offered artefact and looked down on it dubiously.
"Mom's probably a Hufflepuff as well," Dudley whispered to Harry as he elbowed him to get his attention.
Harry tilted his head and looked at what was essentially his mother in this life. She was tall, thin, and blonde. He'd never managed to convince her to do much sports, even if he'd prevented Vernon and Dudley from ballooning to comical sizes in this life. Vernon was portly, and Dudley was athletic. He liked football and was very good, in fact.
In comparison to the books, Petunia wasn't much different. Less indulgent of Dudley, less hateful of Harry and his mother. A normal mother with firm opinions on how society should be, a bit judgemental if anything, but that was it.
She put on the hat, firmly closing her eyes as if afraid of what it would say.
"Courage?" the hat asked. "A lot of it, determination, so much. You'd make a great Gryffindor, but there's also a loyalty in here that burns brighter than most I've ever seen. As expected of a mother of two. Hufflepuff," the hat announced anticlimactically.
After receiving the verdict, Petunia took the hat off her head and gently laid it on the table, with her eyes facing Christmas in the corner of the living room.
"Let's open the Christmas presents kids," she said with a gentle smile.
Before she'd even finished the sentence, Dudley had already jumped straight into the rather large pile.
Some things, Harry guessed, never changed.
-/-
Omake: "A great destiny," Chanithachuah said ominously as he came to rest on top of Dudley's head. "So much potential, almost frightening. Brave, courageous, but also ambitious and hard-working. There's a thirst for knowledge here, but also for power. In fact, you'd sacrifice anything for it, wouldn't you?" The hat paused for a few moments.
Dudley, meanwhile, was looking wide-eyed at his older brother, whose demented grin was dimming the lights of the living room, his akatsuki cloak whipping wildly in a non-existent wind.
"There can only be one house for you, young man," the sorting hat said ominously, "and it better be, DEAAATTTHHHHWIIIINNNGGGGG!" he ejaculated calmly.
-/-
AN: Happy Holidays! Hope you enjoy the omake :) Throwback to the early chapters. Read ahead on patreon if you wanna skip to the meat of the next school year we got… Uh. Some scary stuff.