Harry Potter:Raised by Wolves

Christmas morning started much as it always did at Hogwarts—Ron throwing a pillow at Harry to wake him up, shouting about presents. With just the two of them left in their dorm, there was no need to worry about keeping quiet.

It still left Harry a little gobsmacked to see a pile of presents meant just for him. This year's stack seemed even bigger than the last. Most of them were wrapped in the same festive paper as half of Ron's pile, so Harry assumed they were from Mrs. Weasley. He glanced at the others, picking up a small square parcel wrapped in plain brown paper.

Harry—

I've had this for a while. I thought you might like it. Merry Christmas.

—Professor Lupin

Tearing into the paper, Harry sucked in a sharp breath at the framed picture in his hands.

It was a photo of his parents, sitting in front of a grand fireplace, Christmas decorations twinkling in the background, a massive Yule log burning in the hearth. Lily had green tinsel braided into her hair and a baby—Harry—cradled in her arms. He was dressed in a tiny reindeer onesie, complete with antlers attached to the hood. His face was lit up with pure joy as he beamed up at his mother, a little tuft of black hair peeking out beneath the hood, his arms reaching toward his father.

James sat beside Lily, a sleek ginger cat nestled in his arms like a baby, a Santa hat perched jauntily on its head. They waved out at Harry, and every few seconds, James would swoop in and press a firm kiss to Lily's cheek, making her blush.

At the bottom of the gold frame, an inscription read:

Harry's First Yule

It took Harry a moment to remember how to breathe.

"You alright there, mate?" Ron asked around a mouthful of homemade nut brittle, shreds of wrapping paper scattered around him.

Harry quickly shoved the picture under his pillow, forcing a grin. "Yeah."

He reached for the next present on autopilot, not wanting Ron to investigate further.

To his surprise, he found a book titled The Wizengamot and You: The Wizarding Legal System Explained. A note was attached to the front.

Hi Harry,

This is from both me and Gran. She says it's the best book out there for learning about this sort of thing. I hope it helps.

Merry Christmas!

—Neville

Below that, in a more elegant script:

Dear Mr. Potter,

I'm glad to hear from my grandson that you are finally learning about your place in our world. I must say, it does not surprise me that this information was kept from you until now.

I hope this book proves useful; please do not hesitate to contact me if you have any further questions. Well met, and Happy Yule.

—Lady Augusta Longbottom

P.S. If you get the chance this summer, I would recommend visiting Gringotts and checking your family vault for a book on House Potter traditions and magics. Every family should have one. If you require an adult to escort you, I would be happy to do so.

Harry quickly hid the book and note from Ron's curious gaze, but a smile tugged at his lips. He was glad now that he'd sent Neville a Herbology book—unsure at the time if they were at the level of friendship where exchanging Christmas gifts was expected.

The rest of the presents were more predictable—until he reached the long, narrow package at the very bottom. His heart clenched at the telltale shape.

"Mate!" Ron breathed, barging over and reaching to tear the wrapping paper.

A Firebolt.

This Christmas was full of surprises.

With his spirits high from his gifts, Harry was caught almost entirely off-guard when he heard his name.

He had been enjoying a rare moment alone—Hermione was in the library, and Ron had been kidnapped by the twins—taking his time wandering down to Christmas lunch, lost in thought. At least, until he was stopped.

And his heart sank.

"Harry, my boy!" Dumbledore's fond call rang through the stone corridor.

Harry froze, then turned on his heel. The headmaster was dressed in festive robes, smiling widely, completely oblivious to the nausea rolling in his student's stomach.

Don't look him in the eye, Harry thought desperately, plastering a smile onto his face and fixing his gaze somewhere over Dumbledore's left shoulder.

"Hello, sir!" he greeted cheerfully, forcing himself to channel the person he had once been. Trusting. Impulsive. Thoughtless. He could do that. Maybe.

"Not spending the day with your friends?" Dumbledore asked, his brows furrowing slightly.

Harry shrugged. "Hermione's finishing an essay. Ron's with his siblings, and I didn't want to interrupt."

The reminder of Harry's lack of family made Dumbledore's expression turn sad and pitying in a way that made Harry itch with irritation. Perhaps the old man was aiming for empathy, but he missed by a mile.

"Ah, of course. Well, you should still be careful, my boy—these are not the best days to be spending alone. It is difficult to protect you if we do not know where you are."

His voice was gently scolding, and Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Did he really think Sirius Black would attempt something in the middle of the day?

"I'm sorry, sir," he said instead, forcing a contrite frown. "I suppose I didn't think about that. I was just on my way to the Great Hall for lunch."

"Not to worry, not to worry; I found you, after all," Dumbledore chuckled.

He began to walk, gesturing for Harry to join him.

"I hear you've been keeping yourself busy over the holidays, my boy. The Patronus Charm is quite an advanced piece of magic—I'm rather impressed to see you attempting it. I must admit, I didn't expect Professor Lupin to offer; given his health, he tends to value what little time he has to rest."

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