Next came Charles's gift.
Henry handed him a small, rectangular parcel wrapped in brown kraft paper. Charles took it and weighed it in his hands—it was very light.
"What is it?"
"Open it."
Charles removed the paper. Inside was a small booklet, roughly the size of his palm, with a single line printed on the cover:
The Book That Pretends To Be A Book.
Instructions: Open.
Charles opened the title page.
You think this is a book.
He turned to the second page.
Blank.
Third page, blank.
Fourth page, blank.
He continued through to page one hundred, where a small bookmark read: Are you still turning pages?
Charles looked up at Henry, who met his gaze with perfect equanimity.
He kept going. Page two hundred, blank.
Page three hundred had a bookmark that read: Nearly there. Pages three hundred and fifty through three hundred and ninety-nine, blank.
Page four hundred.
A note, in the twins' familiar uneven handwriting: Merry Christmas, Father! Guess what I gave you this time?
Charles laughed, a real laugh, and nearly dropped the book.
"Henry," he said. "Did you design this?"
"The Weasley twins designed it," Henry said pleasantly. "I was responsible for delivery."
Charles closed the book and set it aside with a care that suggested he was treating it as something fragile. He was quiet for a moment.
"Very good," he said. "Very good."
He left it at that. Henry understood, though, that book would find a place on his father's shelf, and it would be taken out at intervals, and it would produce a smile each time.
Diana's turn came next. The anticipation in her eyes was rather less concealed than in anyone else's.
Henry handed her a light blue velvet bag, her preferred colour, tied with a thin silver cord.
"What is it?"
"Open it," Henry said.
She untied the cord and drew out two books roughly A4 in size. Both covers featured cats, one orange, one grey, both entirely charming.
"A colouring book?" She turned one over with a slightly puzzled, thoroughly curious expression.
Henry gestured to the small bottle of golden potion sitting on the table beside him. "And that."
Diana settled the books on her lap and opened the first one.
On the title page, in the twins' characteristic handwriting:
Escape Colouring Book
Open it for a surprise. It's perfectly normal if you can't catch it. If you do catch it, you can colour it using this potion, Ginny says it makes the colours brighter. Not recommended to use actual saliva, despite what it says on the bottle.
Diana raised an eyebrow. She looked at Henry, who looked back at her with complete serenity. She turned to the first page.
A line drawing of a kitten lifted its head from the paper, looked at her with large round eyes, and shot to the second page.
"Oh!" Diana flipped to the second page, laughing. The kitten had wedged itself behind a vase illustration with only the tip of its tail visible and waving slightly.
She stared at the tail.
Then she laughed, the full, unguarded laugh of someone who has been caught entirely off guard by something delightful, and reached out to catch the tail.
Her fingers had barely touched it when the kitten bolted to the third page and hid behind a stack of books.
"Don't you dare!" She flipped the page and pursued it.
Everyone in the room had stopped what they were doing. Charles pressed two fingers to his forehead and looked at the ceiling.
William and Harry crowded in on either side of their mother, pressing against her elbows, watching the page with enormous seriousness.
"It moved again!" William pointed. "Fourth page, look!"
"I see it!" Diana turned to the fourth page.
The kitten was crouched behind an illustrated sofa with one ear in plain sight.
The chase continued across seven pages. On the eighth, behind an illustrated potted plant, she finally caught it.
"Got it!" She held the book up like a prize, her eyes creased shut with laughter.
The kitten squirmed under her fingers, then lay flat and resigned itself, apparently willing to be coloured now that the chase was over.
Diana looked up at Henry. "How do I colour it?"
"Ginny Weasley recommends saliva," Henry said, with complete gravity. "I don't."
Diana's shoulders shook. She reached for a coloured pencil that William and Harry had left on the cushion beside her and made a careful stroke across one of the kitten's ears.
The ear turned pink.
The kitten looked up, produced a small sound that was unmistakably a meow, and lay back down.
Diana made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. "It meows! It actually meows!"
William and Harry were instantly in motion. "Let me colour! Mummy, let me do the tail!"
Diana handed William the pencil. "The tail is yours."
William applied himself with great seriousness.
The tail turned blue. The kitten glanced back at it, apparently considered this acceptable, and settled again.
Diana opened the second book. Its title page contained one line: Self-Fill Edition—Whatever you draw, that's what it is.
She picked up the pencil and drew a rough circle on the first page.
It moved. It rolled itself to a corner and stopped, waiting.
Diana went still for a moment.
"Henry," she said slowly.
"Hmm?"
"Will it always do that?"
"Whatever you draw comes to life. That's what the Weasley twins said."
Diana hugged the book to her chest for a moment, both arms around it.
"I love this gift," she said. Her voice was quiet, but the quality of the sincerity in it was unmistakable.
She looked at Henry, and there was something in her eyes, not quite tears, but a brightness that had the same warmth.
"Henry," she said. "This is the best Christmas gift I've ever received."
Henry's smile came without any planning.
"Better than a cashmere sweater?"
Diana paused for exactly one second, and then burst out laughing so loudly that William and Harry both jumped.
"Infinitely better than a cashmere sweater!" she said. "Better than a leopard-print rug! Better than everything!"
She stood up, retrieved the book from William and Harry, who had been attempting to colour the kitten's nose purple, tucked both books under her arm, and carried them to the window where the afternoon light was best.
She opened to the first page. The kitten made a dash for the second.
"Don't run!"
Third page.
"I'll catch you!"
Her laughter rang through the sitting room, clear and bright and entirely without restraint.
Philip turned to Charles. "How old is Diana?"
Charles opened his mouth, thought for a moment, and appeared to lose the thread.
"Three," Elizabeth said pleasantly, with no sign whatsoever of displeasure at her daughter-in-law.
Charles, to his own evident surprise, found he did not object to this assessment.
Diana caught the kitten again on page eight, held the book up in triumph, and turned to wave at Henry across the room.
"Bring me another one next year!"
"Of course."
"A different one!"
"Of course."
"Bigger!"
"Of course."
She turned back to the window and began colouring the kitten in earnest.
Then she opened the second book and drew a flower. It bounced off the page, shook its petals, and settled back down. She drew a star.
It twinkled. She drew a rough, cheerful puppy. It rolled on the paper and wagged its tail at her.
Diana looked up at the winter light coming through the window, at her family arranged around the warm room, at two books moving and running and talking in her hands.
This, she thought, was exactly the Christmas she had wanted.
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Daily updates are back. 2 chapters per day. The temporary benefit will be over on patreon too, I believe i've made it up to y'all.
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