Chapter 58: Christmas Gifts
Christmas morning in Cokeworth began with a thin mist clinging to the cold, beading into tiny droplets on the windowpanes.
Inside the small house at 4 Privet Drive, however, it was warm and cosy. Firewood crackled in the grate, orange red flames licking the hearth and spilling a soft glow across the living room carpet.
It was a typical Muggle home. Not large, but lived in. Warmth in the walls, and comfort in the clutter.
A faded checked cover lay over the sofa. Breakfast plates sat uncollected on the coffee table, their rims still smudged with jam. In the corner stood a modest Christmas tree wrapped in colourful paper streamers and tiny fairy lights.
Lily sat cross legged on the carpet with a small pile of parcels in front of her, each wrapped differently, each promising its own small mystery. She wore a red jumper, her hair tied back, cheeks flushed from the fire. Her fingers traced the edge of one package as if she could feel what was inside.
Petunia sat on the sofa, knees drawn up, her gaze fixed on the presents with a heavy intensity. Her lips were pressed into a thin line.
Since childhood, she had always thought there was something different about Lily. Now it was undeniable. Her sister had stepped into a world Petunia could not reach.
Lily's parents sat opposite. Her mother knitted a jumper, needles clicking softly. Her father held a cup of hot tea. Both of them watched their younger daughter with the quiet, tender attention reserved for moments you know you will remember.
"Take your time unwrapping, Lily," her mother said with a smile. "Surprises are meant to be enjoyed slowly."
Lily nodded and opened her parents' gift first. A thick book of fairy tales, and a knitted scarf, blue as her eyes.
"Thank you, Mum and Dad!"
She beamed, winding the scarf around her neck. When she turned to share her delight with Petunia, she found her sister looking away, pretending to stare out of the window. Loneliness sat in Petunia's eyes, plain as daylight.
Lily's smile softened and dimmed. A flicker of helplessness tightened in her chest.
She knew Petunia had always resented not being able to enter the magical world with her. That gap had widened until it felt like a wall, and no amount of love could make it vanish.
But there was nothing Lily could do about it. She was not the Headmaster.
So Lily said nothing more and turned back to the other packages.
Most were simple cards and small snacks. She opened them neatly, thanked everyone in her head, and stacked the wrappings to one side. Then she reached the last parcel and stopped.
It was exquisite.
Deep green paper embroidered with intricate patterns in silver thread. The edges were perfectly trimmed. The ribbon was silk, tied with the sort of precision that suggested money and habit.
Lily's heart skipped.
She did not need a name on the label to know.
Petunia's attention snapped to it as well, curiosity and envy tangled together in her stare. Even their parents leaned forward.
"Who is that from?" her mother asked quietly. "The wrapping is so beautiful."
"It is…" Lily hesitated, then kept it vague. "A classmate from the magic school."
No mark. No signature. And yet she knew it was from Regulus.
Even the wrapping carried that restrained, aristocratic air.
She loosened the ribbon carefully.
Inside was a small shoulder bag.
The leather was soft and supple, dyed a light purple that looked gentle rather than loud. The stitching was delicate. The design was both elegant and charming, exactly the sort of thing a girl would treasure without feeling childish for it.
A folded note lay beside the bag.
"Wow," Lily breathed, unable to help herself.
She lifted the bag and opened the flap. The space inside was far larger than it should have been. It could easily hold her textbooks and wand while keeping its small, neat shape.
Her father leaned closer, eyes widening as he looked between the tiny bag and the vast space inside.
"What is this?" he asked, baffled. "It looks so small. How can it hold all that?"
Lily unfolded the note. The handwriting was neat and controlled, the instructions clear without being showy.
It explained that the bag had an Undetectable Extension Charm for convenient storage, and it included simple directions for use.
Lily read it aloud, then added quietly, making sure they understood what the gift actually meant.
"In the magical world, things with space charms are very rare. Especially ones made this well. Most young witches and wizards never receive something like this."
Her parents stared at the bag as if it might do a trick all on its own.
Her mother reached out and touched the leather lightly, concern threading her voice.
"Is it not too valuable? That classmate… why would he give you something so nice?"
Lily held the bag and fell silent for a moment, surprised by the sheer generosity of it. The knitted scarf she had prepared felt suddenly small in comparison.
All she could say was the truth she had, even if it was not the full truth.
"He is a good friend. I will accept it, and I will make sure I help him properly in the future."
The gift had been given. Returning it would be both rude and pointless.
Lily lifted her chin slightly. She was not the sort of girl who shrank just because someone offered something expensive. If anything, it made her want to stand taller.
She thought of what Regulus had mentioned before, about his family exploring old, uncommon potion formulas that needed stable carriers and materials, and required the slow release of specific magical effects.
She made a quiet promise to herself.
She would be even more diligent from now on.
In truth, Regulus had put thought into the gift, but to him it was not especially precious. Once given, it was given. The style had simply mattered more, chosen with care.
Her parents did not argue further. They only reminded her to thank him properly.
Lily nodded, then turned again toward Petunia, hoping to share at least a fraction of her excitement.
Petunia had already stood up.
Without a word, she walked out and shut herself in her room.
Lily sighed softly and placed the bag beside her with careful hands.
Elsewhere, in an apartment in Paris, France, Andromeda received a gift from the Black family as well.
The flat was tidy, bright, and warmly furnished. Outside the window, the Parisian street had been dressed for Christmas, lights and decorations catching the eye even in daylight.
Andromeda sat by the window with a book when a faint sound came from the door.
She looked up.
Kreacher stood there holding a black velvet box, his posture respectful.
"Miss Andromeda," Kreacher said with a bow, presenting the box. "This is the Christmas gift the young master asked me to deliver."
Andromeda set her book aside, surprise flickering in her eyes, and accepted it.
She had not been fully cast out yet. The blood connection still existed, and that was why Kreacher could reach her.
She opened the box.
Inside lay a small golden key engraved with the Gringotts emblem, and a note containing information about a vault at the Paris branch of Gringotts.
"The young master says, if no one asks, do not tell," Kreacher added.
Then he vanished.
In contrast to Cokeworth's warmth and Paris's calm, Christmas at the Potter house was loud, bright, and brimming with life.
James Potter wore a garish Christmas jumper and performed in the living room with his wand, turning an apple into a singing bird. Cheers erupted from everyone watching.
Sirius sprawled on the sofa, laughing hard, a mug of Butterbeer in his hand.
He had thrown himself fully into life with the Potters. Here there were no Black family rules, no mother's scolding, only friends, freedom, and a home that wanted him.
His smile was real. The shadow in his eyes had been chased away by sunlight. He looked alive in a way that made the difference almost painful.
Mr and Mrs Potter sat in the main seats, watching the boys with contentment that did not need words.
Sirius revelled in it and joined James, laughter and noise filling the room.
Meanwhile, in a small house on Spinner's End, Severus Snape sat at a cold table unwrapping the only Christmas gift he had received besides Lily's.
An owl had delivered it.
The wrapping was plain, unmarked, containing only two pieces of parchment.
Snape's fingers were stiff as he opened it.
One was a handwritten potion recipe. The other contained the record of a basic Dark Arts spell.
Snape's eyes lit up. He clutched both parchments as though they might vanish if he loosened his grip.
A final line had been added beneath the spell.
Effort has its reward. Knowledge requires accumulation.
He knew at once.
Payment, for information passed along.
A strange feeling rose in him as he stared at the words.
Before, he had carried messages for Regulus proactively. To Snape, the effort had been minor. He had assumed Regulus might not even notice.
He had always thought Regulus would be like other pure blood nobles, arrogant and distant.
Instead, Regulus had returned something tangible. Fairly.
As if Snape were not a tool, but a collaborator.
As if Snape's effort mattered, even when Snape himself thought it negligible.
Snape carefully stored the recipe and parchment inside his most treasured potions book. Then he picked up his wand, ready to try the Dark Arts spell.
His hand paused.
The Trace.
He cannot practise.
Snape set the wand down again, jaw tightening.
Then, as though forcing the frustration into a smaller place, he turned his attention back to the pages he had been given and read them again, slower this time.
The moon hung high when the Malfoy gathering finally ended.
Orion Apparated back to Number 12, Grimmauld Place with Regulus. The moment they stepped inside, Kreacher appeared and bowed.
"Master, young master. Supper is prepared."
The fire in the sitting room still burned. The dining table had been set and filled with steam and scent. Cream of mushroom soup. Truffle baked snails. A fresh fruit tart.
Regulus and Orion sat facing each other.
Regulus picked up his spoon and tasted the thick soup. Warmth spread through him at once, chasing away the chill that still clung to his bones.
The banquet food had been exquisite, but served in portions too small to satisfy anyone.
This, at least, felt like coming home.