First Christmas. But I have already got everything I need.
The house in the woods was cold, the fire crackling in the hearth offering little warmth. Harry sat on the worn rug, unbothered by the frost creeping along the edges of the windows. Beside him, a small pile of gifts lay untouched.
Harry hadn't expected any presents. Not really. The Dursleys had never cared enough to even acknowledge the holiday, let alone give him anything. But now, things were different. His first Christmas at Hogwarts.
The first package was from Hermione. He ripped open the simple brown paper, finding a thick book titled Beasts of Legend: Myths and Truths.
Harry glanced at the title, then at Teeth, who was curled in the shadows, its glowing eyes tracking his every move. “Probably a lot of things in here that you already know,” Harry muttered, tossing the book aside without any real interest.
Next, he opened a lumpy package, revealing a maroon knitted jumper with an ‘H’ stitched in green. Harry raised an eyebrow. “Ron’s mum,” he muttered. He didn’t bother reading the note. He didn’t care for it.
He moved through the rest of the gifts quickly, with little more than a detached curiosity. The twins’ package held an assortment of joke products, including a some testers. Harry didn’t need them, but he knew enough about Fred and George to know they’d expect him to use them, so he tucked them aside for later.
Draco’s gift was a silver quill, engraved with intricate designs. A note from him was attached. Harry read it briefly, smirking. "Don’t disgrace it."
Luna’s gift—a necklace made of tiny radishes—was next. For protection against Nargles, the note read. Harry’s lips twitched in an almost-smile before he dropped the necklace into his bag.
Neville’s plant was nice, he supposed. It was the only one that felt even remotely thoughtful, but he had no use for it here in the cabin. He placed it on the windowsill anyway, a small corner of his mind wondering if it would survive the cold.
The final package was long, narrow, and wrapped in faded silver paper. No name. Harry carefully unwrapped it, revealing a shimmering cloak. It looked like nothing he’d ever seen—light as air, with a strange, liquid quality to it.
He turned it over in his hands, his fingers tracing the soft fabric. It was beautiful, but Harry wasn’t the type to be impressed by mere beauty. He knew exactly what it was. An Invisibility Cloak.
He didn’t need a note to guess where it came from. Dumbledore, he thought, his sharp eyes narrowing in calculation. The old man had his way of giving gifts without saying a word. But Harry wasn’t bothered by that—he was used to people who did things without explaining.
As he draped the cloak over his shoulders, his body vanished. The silence of the cabin wrapped around him, and Harry stood for a moment, savoring the feeling of being unseen, the weightless cloak settling comfortably against his skin.
He turned to look at Teeth, whose Eye sockets watched him closely, like it always did. The Monster didn’t need gifts. It didn’t care for the absurdities of human traditions.
Harry gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug. “Merry Christmas, Teeth”
Teeth's massive, skeletal form shifted in the corner of the room, but the Monster didn’t speak. It didn’t need to. The two of them understood each other without words.
There were no friends here, no need for presents, no lingering thoughts on the past. In the house with Teeth, Harry had everything he needed.