Christmas at Hogwarts was, to be rather cliché, magical.
The giant Christmas trees decked out with every shining bauble imaginable, the candles, the picture-perfect snow, the delicious food that appeared out of nowhere, the scent of pine and old castle making it feel majestic and homey somehow—just all of it.
Harry had not really had a Christmas himself, but he was well aware of the concept. He'd seen the movies they played in school, he got caught up in the holiday spirit like the whole world did even if the Dursleys themselves never really brought it into their home themselves. Oh yes, they had him stringing up lights and wrapping presents and decorating the tree and the house and cooking their holiday meals, but somehow the true spirit of Christmas never actually crossed the threshold of that house—ever.
But this year, it seemed like he'd dropped himself into a fairy tale with how picturesque everything was, and he was living high on life by the time Christmas morning dawned.
The only shadow on the whole thing was that most of his friends weren't here to share it with him, but when he woke up to see the veritable mountain of stuff at the foot of his bed with all of their names clearly written on top each one, he could only grin and think this was an okay consolation for not having the people themselves here right now.
He woke up ungodly early as always and Ron wouldn't budge even if he started banging pots and pans over his head so he disregarded his very unconscious roommate as he scrambled up to help himself to his presents, excitement filling him as he dug in.
There was a small, blue-flowered plant potted in a beautiful white teacup from Neville, with a note of instructions for its care and identifying it as a Blue Lace flower, which supposedly gave off a calming effect with its soft blue pollen. A pair of leather flying gloves from Seamus, chocolates from Hannah, a pretty hand-made bookmark from Susan, a crocheted handkerchief with his initials on it with a box of rock-cakes from Hagrid, at least three kilos of various candies from his slightly-less-close but no less friendly connections around Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Ravenclaw, and a new book on centering his mind from Hermione (which reminded him he still hadn't finished that first book she gave him—oops, he really should get around to that). He even had some hair clips, hair ties, yet more candy, stickers, socks, and shoelaces from his soccer club friends, including a rather nice broom-cleaning kit that was from both Dean and Lu.
He found one marked from the Dursleys and made the effort to get up and cross the room to chuck it into the fire place without a second though, rather enjoying the loud whoosh the flames made as they devoured it.
Returning to his bed, as he got deeper into his pile, he was thrilled to see the high-end wrapping paper of dark greens and silver that meant Draco's lessons in Slytherin politics had paid off and he'd even gotten something from his slithery friends. There was a sleek dark-teal quill with a silver tip from Blaise, and a plain black journal will well-made paper from Nott—clearly they'd colluded and determined on perfectly non-personal but quality gifts to suit their relationship out of politeness rather than real fondness, which was something Draco had explained at length. Gift giving was almost a professional contact sport in Slytherin families—even Nott who had yet to say more than three words to Harry the entire year couldn't escape the obligation to give something given how often they saw each other, but the non-personal nature of it atop the price tag spoke volumes and would definitely reflect badly on his family if he didn't come through despite probably very much not wanting to. The Potter family was still a pureblood one, after all, so there was no wiggling out of it.
He was sure there was some kind of code as to what these presents meant, but he'd have to ask Draco later because as of this moment he wasn't sure he knew, other than that they were proper, impersonal, and expensive (he was assuming Blaise's quill was worth more than this entire stack of presents combined, if not more, but he could find that out later).
Harry didn't care though that he'd gotten presents from them out of political obligation rather than friendship, he considered it a win that he was on their radar enough to even qualify as needing a gift at all. It was definitely progress.
Draco, on the other hand, had gotten him a rather large, beautifully adorned book on Transfiguration that Harry got a feeling was not available in Hogwarts library considering the many warnings on the front page, and it just sent a thrill of excitement through him as the prospect of getting into this one. He hadn't quite considered what dark arts books would be about, but if there was such things as dark arts Transfiguration texts he was going to need to learn where Draco found this thing and consider taking a look himself.
And he didn't think he'd be bringing those topics up with McGonagall, any time soon.
He didn't recognize the writing on one of the last the packages in the pile, but upon opening it found a very vibrant dark green sweater with the letter "H" emblazoned on the front in gold, and a care package full of fudge—which he took a quick sample of and it was delicious, by the way. The accompanying card was a very warm greeting from a Mrs. Weasley, which was certainly a fuzzy, sweet thought from a woman he'd never met. The twins must've written home to their mother then, since anything Ron had said about him couldn't have been all that nice.
And speaking of the twins, with almost everything else opened he almost missed the small envelop at the very bottom with 'F+G' printed on the top—and was very impressed to find a silver necklace inside with two charms on either side of a swirling white and teal crystal no bigger than his pinky nail. One charm was a pink bat, the other an orange bird. Harry couldn't help but grin and immediately slipped it around his neck—the twins were brave to try and get him something to match his outfits, but they'd nailed it so far as he was concerned. He had half a thought that maybe this was pranked somehow, but figured he was in enough of a Christmas spirit to put up with whatever they had planned—chances were that if it were pranked it'd be harmless and/or temporary for the holiday, and he was in for a good laugh at his expense if that was the case.
He was also glad he had put some amount of thought into their presents as well, considering they had clearly done some research themselves. Harry, now knowing how to wiggle out which one of them was which in a short conversation as they were no longer on guard to try and hide that from him, had spent an embarrassing amount of time and effort watching them eat at meals.
The two of them had a habit of piling identical things onto their plates but then shamelessly stealing off each other. It was quick and confusing enough if you didn't know which twin was which, but eventually Harry noticed that they actually did have different preferences, but they covered well by having the same plates and then eating the things their twin didn't like off the other plate and giving the illusion that they'd both just eaten the same thing. For example, he'd seen George steal the spinach off Fred's sandwiches and likewise Fred snatch the tomatoes out of George's salad, and so forth. That was all well and fine but what Harry really cared about the deserts—and he noticed that Fred often went for fruity tarts, gummy candies, or cream puff of sorts while George was all about the chocolate, the exception being that Fred would eat white chocolate while George did not. Therefore, Harry's Christmas gifts hardly broke the bank, but he was certain that fact he'd personalized two separate gifts instead of giving them both the same thing like he got the feeling everyone else did was probably going to win him some points. (George got a box filled with various forms of chocolate, of which there were many, while Fred got an assortment of exotic flavored gummies and white-chocolate crackers).
The very last present was one that only had a small card taped to the top, and when he picked it up it felt like some kind of clothing (Fred and George had been thrill-seekers to get him jewelry, who was insane enough to try and buy him clothes given his very particular wardrobe?).
He picked at the card, which failed to clarify anything, although… whatever it was, it'd been his dad's. It made his heart skip a beat as he clutched it slightly closer instinctively.
Use it well? What is that supposed to mean?
He opened the paper and light, shimmery fabric seemed to spill out of the wrapping like water.
Well it's soft and pretty so whoever sent this had that going for them. Still, it was my Dad's? Seems kind of… floral.
Maybe it was just him, but the dark fabric had shimmery silver accents with odd hues of greens and soft purples that kind of reminded him of old-lady wallpaper; doubly so as it seemed faded and dulled as if it'd been on an old lady's wall for at least three hundred years. Still, he let the fabric fall free and lifted it to get a better look… and vaguely recognized it as a cloak?
Well, his father had no style then, but it was his father's so… he stood up grudgingly and swung it over his shoulders, first noting how… well, ineffective it was as a cloak. It felt like heavy air had settled over his pjs and was neither warm nor cold—it didn't even block airflow so really it was totally useless.
Then he realized his body was invisible.
Okay… what the hell.
He lifted his arm under the fabric and… yeah, nope. Not a thing. There was nothing there.
…make a note: ask Draco about cloaks that turn you invisible. Because… what.
"Well this is bloody useless!" he declared to absolutely no one, Ron not even budging in his snoring as he stalked to the mirror in the wardrobe beside his bed to check himself out and yeah, he was just a floating head. "That's just weird." He told his reflection, his expression clearly agreeing with himself.
Use it well!? What for—to spy on people!? There are so many easier ways to get things done and why the quaffle would I hide my brand-new wardrobe under this darn thing.
…hm, well actually…
He considered it a moment and lifted his arms up… the fabric rustled like silky air and the gap in the middle opened to reveal his body hiding in magical shadows underneath the magical cloak. In the places where it went from invisible shield to revealing the normal fabric on the underside, there were shimmers of faint color that kind of reminded him of the cloth's normal color, but were much brighter as if enhanced by the invisibility-magic letting light reflect off of it somehow.
Getting an idea he ripped it off and laid it out on his bed, grabbing his wand from his bedside table and channeling his inner Dell Monroe. She'd spent no less than six novels worth of paper talking about her Transfiguration adventures with all types of cloth and materials for her seamstress business and Harry was very proud to say he did not suck as Transfiguration at all, so he was reasonably sure this would be fine.
Sorry Dad, but this thing is ugly and it's meant to be worn.
So, with a little excited grin for this new bit of magic he was about to totally make up, he had a go at transfiguring the magical invisible cloth.
He was very surprised by how easy it was actually. Actually, he was super suspicious of how easy it was… it was like the material itself wasn't even material at all, it was pure magic. Magic in cloth form. Actually, magically speaking there was no cloth in this… thing… at all. It was barely a physical object, and really more closely related to what he'd figured ghosts were made of (he'd been very curious and Nearly Headless Nick let him poke and prod to his heart's content in exchange for some Headless Hunt thing—long story, don't ask) which was to say it was still technically present in this world as it could interact with real physical things but it was more pure magic and some odd other thing that Harry didn't yet have an understanding of. It wasn't magic because that had a feel, it was… something else. Like magic's weird estranged cousin or something.
Only this cloak was made of whatever it was that thing is and it was very receptive to magic taking it and shaping it this way and that. Harry didn't even need to know a cutting or hemming charm, it was like taking ahold of a big block of play-dough and doing whatever he wanted with it. Only, he could control it with magic which is to say his imagination, so it was much easier than trying to make a wearable piece of clothing from play-dough and he could essentially think up what he wanted using his Transfiguration mental imaging practice and the material thing just did it without him needing to know any specific spells or incantations to get it done the way he was thinking.
Less afraid he was going to rip up his supposed family heirloom, he went to town morphing it different ways until it suited him a bit better. He kind of liked the idea of a cloak but it being invisible was a real downer—it could have applications but he kind of wanted to wear his father's heirloom so people could actually see it. Which meant it being invisible wasn't going to work and it's normal old-lady pattern wasn't going to fly either—it very much did not match his aesthetic.
But it being made of not-magic, and Harry not understanding what that was or it's limits, gave it a shot and soon found it didn't have to be invisible. It could when it wanted to, but it wasn't at times because if you put down a totally invisible cloak you'd never find it again unless you had a good memory. The shape was easy enough, he smushed it a bit until it was more his length and not just a giant sheet of cloth, and then forced two sides to pinch together and form sleeves, also shortening them until they better fit a small eleven-year-old. He couldn't quite tell if the flap of material on the back was supposed to be a hood or not but he certainly made it one. Satisfied with that, he turned towards the color and was pleasantly un-surprised to find it just as receptive: he lightened the dull hue until it was mostly just that beautiful iridescent silver with rainbow hues tossed in. Honestly it looked like an oil puddle in a parking lot after a rainstorm, but it was somehow beautiful when it shone subtly on gracefully rippling fabric that seemed light as air and gracefully slippery like wisps of smoke.
He grinned, and went about getting ready for the day by taking a shower and fixing up his hair, putting on the outfit he'd planned the night before and getting ready to go down to Christmas breakfast—only then slipping the cloak on, turning to evaluate himself in the mirror. It was much better this way, the new beautiful shimmering colors mixing in with the overlay of silver and the fact it was light as a feather meant it seemed to float around him peacefully now that it wasn't turning him invisible. Given his outfits were loud colors, this was a nice accent as it was a plain-yet-beautiful near-translucent-silver that was not overpowering while having accents of any color to match what outfit he was wearing. It was also less a cloak and more a long overcoat now, sleeves long enough and wide enough at the wrists to flare out some, hanging open to reveal his whole outfit, and dropping low enough to skim the top of the backs of his shoes. So, it gave his muggle outfit a definite wizard-like flair.
Harry created two little loops in the easily-malleable material and created a nice little wand-holster in the flared sleeve, just like Blaise had (he was not jealous, shut up) and then transfigured another little clump of material near the collar into a button. This part he was very good at since buttons and needles were well within a first-year's Transfiguration ability, but as he said he wasn't untalented at the subject so he managed to make the button of the same not-material of the cloak so it'd disappear too when the time came.
Speak of… he buttoned the new overcoat closed, reached up and pulled the excessively large hood over his face, and willed the material of the sleeves and bottom hem to 'un-smoosh'—material filling back in and covering his hands and feet. He looked back in the mirror and… grinned at the blank, Harry-less mirror looking innocently back at him.
Okay, much better now. Merry Christmas Dad.
000
It didn't take Harry long to figure out who'd sent him his father's cloak, because when he walked in to an already-populated breakfast table wearing said invisible cloak very visibly, Dumbledore spat out his pumpkin juice in a spray that had the Weasley twins in absolute hysterics and even McGonagall was asking if the old headmaster was okay with a concerned expression. Even Snape looked like the old coot had finally lost it and he usually had a better poker face than that.
The table they were using was much smaller, given there were only about fifteen people total present including most of the faculty, so it had a much more intimate feel than the normal set up, which suited Harry just fine. He plopped down between the twins and Percy who was just reading over his breakfast and shooting his brothers annoyed looks while they tried not to die from laughing too hard into their breakfast, helping himself to some food while the twins collected themselves.
"Morning Harry!" Fred got out first, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.
"Merry Christmas!" They chorused as one.
"Merry Christmas Fred, George—everyone." He got a splattering of well wishes back before George leaned into his side with a grin.
"Stunning as always Harry-"
"-love the color, all of the colors-"
"-is that a new necklace?" They both teased and complimented in the way only they had, and he grinned as he lifted his chin to show them.
"Thank you both, it's very nice. I was going to write proper cards as well."
"We're touched!"
"Also no need to be so formal-"
"-you can shower us with gratitude in person if you'd like."
"Speaking of!"
Suddenly he had one red head on either side of him and they gave him loud, wet, dramatic smacks of kisses on his cheeks and he yelped, swatting them away.
"Guys!"
"We love our presents from you too!"
"No one ever gets us different presents you should know!"
"You're our favorite and we're keeping you-"
"-you've even got red hair so you can be a triplet, we don't mind."
"Well I do, so thanks for the offer but I'm good." he rolled his eyes, dramatically scrubbing their kisses away with a cloth napkin and they just grinned at him unrepentantly.
"Offer still stands!"
"I'll let you know if I ever change my mind." He assured them with a laugh. "I have to write a card to your mother anyway. She was kind enough to send me fudge and a sweater… which I see you two got your own of." He nodded to them and they picked at the cozy, clearly handmade sweaters they had on—the "F" and "G" probably on the wrong twin, Harry guessed.
"Ah yes, there's no escaping that, sorry."
"We wrote home about you and she's decided you need mothering."
"Have you met Draco? Yeah, I'm good on the mother hens in my life." He snarked and like that the twins were off their seats in hysterics again. And if Harry wasn't imagining it, he thought he saw Snape choke on his coffee but hid it remarkably well and the professor played it off a second later.
"You don't have to wear the sweater if you don't want to," Percy distracted him, having abandoned the book and overhearing the conversation. "She makes them for all of us and can go overboard."
"No, no, I truly was touched by the thought—I'll write her a letter for sure, because I do like it. It's very cozy." he assured the more level-headed Weasley who just nodded politely. It was awfully sensitive for the often too-stiff prefect to realize that Harry had a defined sense of style that a homemade sweater didn't really fit into, and he appreciated it even when he could tell Percy didn't believe he actually liked the gift. Percy was, after all, not wearing his own although he had just said his mother made them for all of her children.
"Really, I definitely do like it and will totally wear it—with the right outfit is all." He waved off easily. "For today though, I actually got this as a present too. Apparently it belonged to my dad so…" he left that hanging there and Percy's eyes softened, seeming to make the jump easily. A gift from a surrogate mother he'd never met wasn't the same as an heirloom from an actual parent… that he'd never met either. The elder Weasley just nodded and offered him a smile.
"It's nice. Who gave it to you?"
"Some anonymous sender. Apparently they've had it since he died and thought it'd be a nice Christmas gift… returning supposedly my own property or something like that." He rolled his eyes, fully aware he was likely stating this in front of the person who'd sent it and who was undoubtedly eavesdropping hard. Well, that's what he got for being dramatic and coy.
Percy was oblivious to this and unwittingly poured salt in the wound. "Well that's incredibly rude. Even if you grew up with muggles and they couldn't find you for one reason or another, the moment you entered back into the wizarding world they should've forwarded it since it was widely publicized back in September. It's not a gift, it's your own family heirloom, which I find rather insulting if you'll forgive the impertinence!" He frowned, getting uppity in that oh-so-Percy way. Harry grinned widely at him.
"I agree entirely." He shrugged simply, taking another bite of his breakfast and very purposely not looking at the teachers across the wide circular table. "Still, it's nice to have it now. Matches my outfits and is super soft—feel?" He held out his arm and Percy dutifully touched the fabric, surprised.
"It is—magically so. Is it enchanted?"
"Yep. Gonna play around with it a bit I think, but for now the color is awesome, yeah?"
Percy very much did not care about the color, but one thing Harry loved about him was that he was polite to a tee and nodded automatically. "Indeed, it's very fitting."
Good old Percy.
"No offense Apples, but it's a bit tiny and sparkly for a supposed grown man's hand-me-down." Fred pointed out, him and George having regained themselves somewhere in their conversation.
"Yeah… it was kind of old-lady-ish so I transfigured it a bit." Dumbledore choked again, this time on a piece of toast and Harry only paused a respectful amount of time to watch the teachers make sure their headmaster was still alive before getting bored with the rest of the students and continued the conversation. "I think the enchantments are the important part and seriously I never met the man but I don't think my dad had much style. I'm pretty sure he'd forgive me fixing it up a bit so I'd actually wear his gift."
Because it was from James Potter—not the nosy old Headmaster who wanted to pretend it was an acceptable Christmas gift to give back 'borrowed' property. As if an old headmaster signaling out students to give gifts to was in any way not creepy or suspicious.
"True that," the twins agreed, before jumping topics to the plans for the day and plans for a snowball fight.
Harry filled himself up with the tasty buffet in front of him, pushing Dumbledore from his mind and ready to follow along with whatever crazy adventure the twins had ready for the happy day.