Christmas morning in Cokeworth came wrapped in fog. The cold clung to the windowpanes and gathered into tiny beads of water.
Inside number four on Privet Drive, though, it was warm enough to make your shoulders loosen.
It was a typical Muggle home, small, but full of comfort.
The sofa covers were faded from too many washes. Unfinished breakfast plates sat on the coffee table, jam still smeared along the edges. In the corner stood a short Christmas tree, wrapped in colorful paper garlands and little lights.
Lily sat cross-legged on the carpet, several packages piled in front of her, each wrapped differently.
She wore a red sweater, her red hair tied back, her cheeks flushed from the heat. Her fingers were already sliding over one parcel, eager.
Petunia sat on the sofa with her knees drawn up, staring at the gifts near Lily like they'd wronged her personally. Her lips were pressed into a thin line.
All her life, Petunia had noticed things about Lily that didn't fit. Now it was worse. Her little sister had stepped into a world Petunia could never reach.
Their parents sat on the opposite sofa. Lily's mother worked on knitting, Lily's father cradled a cup of hot tea. Both of them kept their attention on their younger daughter.
"Slow down, Lily," her mother said with a smile. "Surprises are meant to be savored."
Lily made an obedient sound and opened the gift from her parents first. A thick book of fairy tales, and a knitted blue scarf, perfectly suited to her eyes.
"Thanks, Mum and Dad!"
She tipped her face up with a bright grin and looped the scarf around her neck. Then she turned, wanting to show Petunia, only to find her sister looking away, pretending to be fascinated by the view outside.
The loneliness in Petunia's eyes was impossible to hide.
Lily's smile softened, a quiet helplessness passing through her. She knew Petunia couldn't stop thinking about it, that she couldn't go to the magical world with her. It had changed everything. They couldn't go back to being inseparable the way they'd been as kids.
But Lily couldn't fix it. She wasn't the headmaster.
So she said nothing and moved on to the other parcels. Most of them were simple, cards and small sweets. By the time she reached the last one, a particularly exquisite package caught her eye.
It didn't belong with the others at all. The wrapping paper was dark green, embroidered with intricate patterns in silver thread.
Even the feel of it was different. The edges were cut perfectly, the ribbon was real silk, the whole thing practically whispered expensive.
Lily's heart sped up.
She barely had to think to guess who it was from.
Petunia's attention snapped over too, fixed on the parcel with a look that mixed curiosity and jealousy in an ugly knot.
Their parents leaned in. Her mother lowered her voice. "Who sent that? It's wrapped beautifully."
"It's… a classmate from the magic school," Lily said vaguely.
There was no name, no tag, no obvious mark, but she knew anyway.
It had to be Regulus. Even the wrapping carried that restrained elegance, polite and aristocratic in a way that felt unmistakable.
Inside was a small shoulder bag, pale purple, made of soft leather that felt smooth and fine under her fingertips. The style was delicate without being childish, cute in exactly the way a girl would love.
A folded note lay beside it.
"Wow!" Lily couldn't hold back the gasp. Her voice was pure delight.
She lifted the bag and tugged the opening apart, then froze. The space inside was far larger than it should've been. She could easily fit her textbooks and her wand, and it still looked like a small, neat little bag.
"What is that?" her father asked, leaning closer, fascinated. "It's tiny. How can it hold so much?"
Lily unfolded the note. The handwriting was neat and precise. It explained, simply, that the bag had an undetectable Extension Charm, meant to make carrying things easier. It even included clear instructions on how to use it.
She read it aloud to her parents, making sure they understood how rare it was.
"In the magical world, things with space charms like this aren't common," she said. "Especially not made this nicely. Most young witches and wizards can't get something like this."
Her parents looked stunned. Her mother reached out and touched the bag lightly, worry threading into her voice. "Isn't it too valuable? Why would that classmate give you something this nice?"
Lily held the bag and went quiet for a moment.
Regulus's gift was far more expensive than anything she'd imagined, and suddenly the knitted scarf she'd prepared for him felt embarrassingly small.
But she could only say, "He's a good friend. I'm keeping it, and I'll help him properly in return."
Once something was accepted as a gift, you didn't return it. Not like this.
And Lily wasn't the kind of girl who shrank just because someone gave her something costly. She forced herself to straighten her spine inside.
She thought of what Regulus had told her, that his family was exploring ancient potion formulas. They needed potion materials that could hold a specific magical effect steadily and release it slowly over time.
She made a quiet promise to herself. She had to be even more careful, even more thorough.
Regulus had his own reasons when he chose the gift, but to him, it hadn't been precious at all. If anything, he'd spent more effort picking the style of the bag than worrying about the price.
When Lily's parents saw how determined she was, how genuinely she liked it, they didn't push further. They only reminded her to thank the sender properly.
Lily nodded and turned, wanting to share her happiness with Petunia, only to find her sister already standing. Petunia walked back to her room without a word.
Lily let out a small sigh and set the bag carefully beside her.
At the same time, in an apartment in Paris, Andromeda received a Christmas gift from the House of Black.
The apartment was neat and bright, cozy in its layout. Beyond the window, Paris stretched out under holiday decorations hung along the streets.
Andromeda sat by the window reading when she heard a faint sound near the door. She looked up to find Kreacher standing there, holding a black velvet box in both hands, his posture respectful.
"Miss Andromeda," Kreacher said with a deep bow, offering the box forward. "A Christmas gift sent by the young master."
Andromeda set her book aside, surprise flashing across her face before she accepted it.
She hadn't been completely struck from the family yet. The blood tie still existed, which was why Kreacher could appear in front of her at all.
She opened the box.
Inside lay a small gold key engraved with the Gringotts emblem, along with a note that listed the details of a vault at Gringotts in Paris.
"The young master says if nobody asks, do not speak of it," Kreacher added.
Then he vanished.
Unlike the warmth of Cokeworth and the quiet calm of Paris, Christmas at the Potters' was loud and full of life.
James Potter wore a gaudy Christmas sweater and waved his wand around the living room, performing for an audience. He turned an apple into a little bird that sang, and the room erupted with cheers.
Sirius lounged on the sofa, laughing like he hadn't laughed in years, a mug of butterbeer in his hand.
He'd fully slipped into the Potter family's life. There were no Black rules here, no mother's scolding, only friends and the feeling of freedom in the air.
His smile was real. The shadow in his eyes had been chased out by sunlight, and he carried himself with bright, reckless energy.
Mr. and Mrs. Potter sat in the best seats, watching the boys roughhouse with nothing but pride on their faces.
Sirius threw himself into the happiness, playing right alongside James.
And in a small house on Spinner's End, Snape sat at a cold table, opening the only Christmas present he'd received besides Lily's.
An owl had delivered it. The packaging was plain, with no mark of who it came from, only two slips of paper.
Snape's fingers were stiff as he unwrapped it. Inside was a handwritten potion recipe and a piece of parchment describing a basic dark magic spell.
Snape's eyes lit up. He gripped both pages tightly.
On one of the notes was a single line. "Effort is rewarded. Knowledge is built through accumulation."
He knew at once. This was payment from Regulus, for passing along information.
Snape stared at the words, something strange rising in his chest.
He'd offered those messages willingly. In his mind, they'd been of little value, not even worth mentioning. He'd assumed Regulus might not care at all.
And yet there it was, a return.
Snape had always thought Regulus was like other pure-blood nobles. Proud, cold and thinks they are above everyone else.
He hadn't expected fairness.
To Snape, it felt like Regulus had treated him as an equal partner, trading knowledge for what Snape provided, even if Snape himself considered his contribution almost insignificant.
He carefully tucked the recipe and parchment away, slipping them into his most treasured potions book. Then he reached for his wand, ready to try the dark magic described.
A second later, he paused, as if a thought hit him hard.
He set the wand down.
The Trace.
He couldn't practice.
---
The moon hung high by the time the Malfoy gathering finally ended.
Orion brought Regulus back to Grimmauld Place by apparition. The moment they stepped inside, Kreacher appeared to greet them with a deep bow.
"Master, young master, supper is prepared."
The fireplace in the sitting room was still burning. Kreacher had already set the table with steaming cream of mushroom soup, truffle-baked snails, and fresh fruit tarts.
Regulus and Orion sat across from each other and each took a spoonful of the thick soup. Warmth spread through Regulus at once, driving the chill out of his body.
The food at the party had been refined, but the portions had been laughable. No one left full.