He had, and he had found his true family in Gryffindor. As a Black at first he hadn't been welcome, but his cousin James had taken him under his wing and protected him. He had found happiness there, James' parents had learned the truth of his family the summer he was fifteen and Charlus had pulled strings and blackmailed the Blacks into letting him go. He'd gone mad the night he lost James. He'd lost everything that night. It was only through Harry's efforts that he wasn't still in Azkaban.
Now he had to go back to that house, back to where he would once again hear the abuse his mother had heaped on him. It would only be her portrait, but he would hear it all again . He would have to face it, if he wanted another chance with his godson. Paige had told him you'll have to grovel until you find out what he wants and give it to him on a silver platter. Well he hadn't had to grovel much but the size of the task in front of him was of such Herculean proportions he wasn't sure he could do it. It was certainly payback, he had called Harry a coward and now he was being forced to face how much of a coward he himself was.
Three hours later he got up from his chair and floo called the clinic's office. Miss Montgomery, the receiving medi-witch answered, "Mr. Black, is there something you needed?"
"I need to schedule some appointments with Paige this week. I know it's Christmas week, but I need to see her."
"Of course, Mr. Black."
Felicia Corner smiled at yet another of the firm's important clients. Tonight had proven slightly difficult, all because of the presence of Bettina Bagginsley. The woman was an infuriating gossip and was trying to put the worst spin on the fact that Harry had opted not to attend the soiree. Felicia had wound up resorting to name-dropping to still the rumors. Thank Merlin Cassandra was here, and had, when asked, confirmed that Harry wasn't here because he was in France staying with the Flamels.
Privately Felicia wondered if Harry had chosen to go because he was unhappy with his trustees. It wouldn't surprise her. The trustees, with the certainty of age, had overlooked what they knew of Harry, that he was proud but reasonable, thus making a couple of poor decisions in a row as a group. After the debacle of speaking to Petunia, when Felicia had come back with her tail figuratively tucked between her legs, it was jointly decided that they would in the future advise Harry of all his options, offer an opinion if asked, but would let him make his own decisions. They were less likely to give offense that way.
Meanwhile it looked as if they would be doing damage control throughout the holiday.
Neville Longbottom was kind of surprised at how much he missed having his best friend around over Christmas. He was used to laughing as Harry charmed the adults at the ball. He missed the way Harry would say all these little subtly snarky comments that left him torn between amusement and horror, and the way Harry could mimic the worst of society's blowhards and remove the sting from their criticisms; not that he ever did either anywhere but in private with those he trusted.
His Gran had taken it poorly that the Flamels had refused the invitation to the ball. She had muttered several depreciations every time she was asked the whereabouts of Lord Potter, but only after first chasing the questioner away with a gush of saying how Harry had gotten the marvelous opportunity to study with Nicholas Flamel. Neville hoped Harry was having fun though.
Thankfully his grandmother had invited everyone in the cadre, and all the rest of them came except Hermione Granger who was once again in Switzerland skiing. The ball also had a larger than normal percentage of ministry personnel. Gran couldn't resist bragging about his score on the government exam to everyone and Neville found it a bit embarrassing.
Christmas morning arrived and Neville dove into his presents. He started with Harry's. When Harry had given out his gifts this year, he had had stack of them all the same size and shape and they were told the contents had been charmed unbreakable but they should still be careful. When Neville opened it his breath caught. It was the cadre. All of them caught in in a charcoal and chalk drawing. Somehow Harry had caught everyone and put them together for this drawing and he had spelled it so the figures could move a little, not the full on movement that a normal portraits would have, but enough that he had captured the essence of each person: Aaron's nervous habit of drumming the fingers on his left hand, Tracey's flirtatious wink, Hermione's tendency to never be without a book in hand, and Padma's wary habit of glancing around. Harry had caught them all. Harry was central in the drawing which wasn't a surprise because he was behind the formation of the group. On his right hand side was Neville and on his left was Luna. Hermione and Aaron stood behind them and everyone else stood scattered around them. Neville wondered if Harry had had a reason for putting people where he did or if it had been a subconscious arrangement based on their level of trust with Harry. Neville spent so long looking at the portrait that he didn't get to open all his presents before going to visit his parents. He made a point to bring the portrait with him so he could show his mum. Neville also grabbed Harry's gift to Alice as well as his own before leaving.
Petunia Dursley gave her sister-in-law a smile as Dudley pulled the presents that had arrived last night from Harry from beneath the tree. She first tried to interest Rose in the gift she was unwrapping for her. But Rose was more interested in the ribbon that had been tied around it.
"So where's that nephew of yours again?" Marge rumbled.
"France, he got the opportunity to do a study trip." Petunia answered.
"Don't know that I'd have let the boy go on some foreign study thing, never know what he might bring back."
Vernon decided to derail his sister, she had never liked Harry. She remembered how early on he hadn't been self supporting. "Harry is a sensible lad, and it was a good opportunity."
"Here, Dad, this one is from Harry. Aunt Marge, this one is for you. Mum, this one is yours. And Rose's and mine. Can I go first?"
"Go ahead, son." Vernon said.
....
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