Ode to the Seasons

Author’s Note: It’s Christmas in September! I considered waiting to post this story until the actual holiday season, but then I realised that would mean waiting to post it until the holiday season. Anyway, this one is a bit of a palate cleanser after the intensity of From the Wars Returning, a nice, simple story about the first Christmas after Teddy goes to Beauxbatons from James’ point of view. And also some commentary on the nature of change, growth, and the passing of time.

That said, I would never have gotten even this far if it were not for the support of many people over on the Harry/Fleur Discord server, the link to which is in my profile. There will also be a fanfic recommendation at the end of the chapter. Thanks to DaveAthenai, Charlennette, and x102reddragon in particular for inspiring me and encouraging me to write these stories. If you enjoy the story please leave a comment telling me what you liked and how you think I could improve. I always read them and they bring a smile to my face every time.

It was snowing.

Maman had the fire going and they were all gathered in the living room. Isabelle was watching the light flakes as they fell outside the window, the evening sun glinting off of every one, and he was finishing up the last few pages of the colouring book Uncle Charlie had bought him two years ago.

“Maman, when will Papa be home?”

She looked up from her reading, a thin black book filled with tiny notes and strange drawings of symbols, circles, and lines, and glanced at the clock before answering.

“He should be here soon, his appointment with Doctor McGuire ends around this time.”

He nodded, returning to the drawing of the Peruvian Vipertooth. The little note on the side of each page said it was venomous and highly dangerous. He had started by making the scales green, because of the poison, but then he remembered a picture he had seen of a tropical bird with bright colours, so he started adding bright blues and pinks and reds to its back, as well as black spines, and he made the inside of its mouth bright yellow like a jungle frog.

He was just adding little globs of green poison to the dragon’s fangs when they heard the sound of a knock on the door.

Isabelle started, staring around through the window trying to find the person she had missed, then squeaked and ran for the door at the same time as Maman stood to answer. He followed, but not before setting his colouring book down carefully and putting his pencils back in their case so they wouldn’t roll away.

“Hello?” said Maman.

“Hi, Fleur. I forgot you were leaving early today and I wanted to give you something.”

He recognised the voice, and when he finally came around the corner he saw it was Mme Aimeé standing on the veranda and looking nervous. He tried to see if Isabelle knew anything, but she was blushing and hiding behind the console table where Mme Aimeé couldn’t see.

“Oh, and what is it?”

“It’s a spiced bread, for the holidays. I know that Harry makes all kinds of things but I thought he might like it if he didn’t have to for once…”

“Aimeé, did you make this yourself?”

He could hear Maman’s smile in the way she said it and it made him smile too. Mme Aimeé was blushing as well now, fidgeting in place while his Maman stared at her. For a moment he pitied her, but he’d been on the receiving end of his parents’ looks often enough to be glad it was her rather than him.

“Euh, yes?”

“Well, thank you very much Aimeé. I’m sure Harry will be delighted when you tell him.”

“Yes, well, you’re very welcome, Fleur. After all you’ve done for me I thought it was the lea— wait… what do you mean when I tell him?”

“Tell me what?”

Isabelle squeaked again, poking her head out from behind the table to see their Papa standing behind Mme Aimeé, just arrived. She made a noise not too different from Isabelle’s a moment ago, stammering as she turned to see him.

“Oh, Monsieur Potter, I, euh, I didn’t see you there.”

“Aimeé was just telling me about a pain d’épice she baked for us, for the holiday.”

Papa’s eyes lit up as he looked down at the rough paper-wrapped log shape Mme Aimeé was holding.

“Oh? Tell me more.”

He moved as he spoke, shifting around to stand next to Maman, just out of the doorway as she reached forward to gently take the wrapped bread from Mme Aimeé’s arms.

“W-well it’s spiced with cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves… And! … I sweetened it with honey. And ginger.”

Isabelle giggled, and he couldn’t help but laugh a little too at her embarrassment.

“Well, it smells wonderful,” Papa said, lifting the loaf to his nose and taking a sniff.

“Thank you! That means a lot, coming from you.” Her face went even more red. “Because of your cooking! I mean, Fleur talks about it all the time and I see it in her lunches and it always looks so good, so it means a lot for you to say that my bread smells good… because of your cooking…”

“Well, it’s always good to be appreciated.”

“Right, yeah. Eum, I’ll just, euh, go, then, shall I?”

“Harry, what do you think about inviting Aimeé over for New Year’s?”

She froze mid-turn, and Isabelle perked up on the other side of the hall.

“What?”

“You know, Fleur, I think that’s a fantastic idea.”

“What!?”

“You do not think Neville and Diana will mind?”

“What!?!”

“Oh, of course not. So, what do you say, Aimeé, are you free on New Year’s eve?”

Mme Aimeé stared at Maman and Papa with her mouth gaping open like a fish, moving without making any sound.

“Aimeé?”

“What? OH! Um, euh, yes?”

“Perfect,” said Maman, pulling the bewildered-looking Mme Aimeé into a brief hug and then letting her go. “Feel free to come by any time after noon on the thirty-first, okay?”

“Euh, okay.”

“And thank you again for the bread,” Papa added.

“Welcome,” she muttered, turning in a daze and heading back down the path to the lane.

“You don’t think we were too rough on her?” asked Papa.

“Oh, no. She hardly gets out aside from work parties.”

“Sounds familiar.”

Maman raised an eyebrow at him

“When was the last time you spoke to someone other than family or Doctor McGuire?”

“I had a wonderful chat with Madame Lefèvre at the farmers market just last week.”

Maman glared at him and Isabelle giggled.

“Come on you three, back inside,” she said after a moment, turning and leading them all back in and down the hall to the dining room.

“Harry, do you think we should bring Aimeé’s bread with us tomorrow or leave it here?”

“I suppose there’s no harm in bringing three things to the feast instead of two.”

She nodded, setting the bread aside and flicking her wand.

He and Isabelle hurried to get to their seats as the dinner floated up the steps from the kitchen and out onto the table.

“Chicken and potatoes with green beans and rolls,” said Maman.

“It smells delicious.”

They tucked in, Papa asking each of them how they had been while he was out.

“I was watching the snowflakes!” said Isabelle.

“And what about you, James?”

“I finished my colouring book!”

“The one Uncle Charlie got you, with the dragons?”

“Yep, the last one was a Peruvian Vipertooth.”

“Well, make sure you bring it with you and you can show it to him sometime over the holiday.”

“I will!”

“And what did you do with the free afternoon?”

“I read one of Carol Anne’s most recent papers.”

“She’s the Transfiguration Mistress in your department, right?”

“Oui.”

The dinner went on like that, and soon enough they were full and starting to get sleepy.

“Alright you two, time for bed,” said Maman. “Remember, the Carriages from Beauxbatons arrive at one o’clock, so we need to be ready and packed before then.”

“Yes Maman,” they chorused, heading to the washroom to clean up before bed.

He had a brief scuffle with Isabelle about who would use the sink first, which he of course won, and soon enough was brushing his teeth diligently and wishing for the day when he learned the teeth cleaning charm and wouldn’t have to stand over Isabelle as she reached into the sink from under him.

But that was done with in short order and he was in his room getting nice and comfortable under the sheets, saying, “Goodnight,” to his Maman in the doorway and drifting off as he imagined all the stories he would have to tell Teddy when they got him back the next day.

It was snowing here too.

Maman and Papa had brought them to the place where Teddy would soon be arriving and he could hardly wait. His things were all packed and ready for the trip to Britain later that day, the presents he’d gotten for the others carefully wrapped and stowed in the expanded bag Maman had given him, but even the thought of looming Christmas day couldn’t distract him from this moment.

He squirmed, shifting in place as he struggled to contain his excitement. Papa’s hand squeezed briefly on his shoulder and he settled a bit, glancing up to see him smiling down at him before looking back toward the sky.

The flying carriage came into view.

His eyes went wide as he looked at it, it was massive! The winged horses were beautiful, and when they landed they seemed to be at least three times as tall as he was. He fidgeted impatiently, watching as an older boy in powder blue robes stepped down first and set up a set of folding golden steps.

“Where is he?” he asked, craning his neck to try and see better as the students began to get off.

Then Teddy appeared.

He came out between a pair of giggling girls and a trio of two boys and one other girl, all his age, walking alone between them. He looked around searchingly, and it was only Papa’s hand on his shoulder that stopped James from sprinting over then and there. Eventually, Teddy found them in the small crowd of waiting families, his light brown hair blooming brilliant turquoise as his face lit up, and he made his way over in a hurry.

“Papa, Maman, over here!”

They were all grinning, and he could hardly follow the speed of Teddy’s words as Maman flicked her wand and levitated his trunk behind him.

“I have so much to tell you! I’ve been doing really good in charms, and Professor Leclerc said I was the best in her Transfiguration class, and—”

He kept going for a while, his hair flickering through a rainbow of colours, but eventually he ran out of steam.

“Teddy, Papa let me help him drive the truck this year!”

“Neat.”

“Oh, and I got to go see Roxanne,” added Isabelle.

“That’s great.”

Teddy was smiling, nodding at them both, but something was off.

“I finished out my colouring book, the one with the dragons,” he said, trying again.

“The one Uncle Charlie got you?”

“Yeah!”

“Cool.”

He frowned. Papa looked over from where he had been talking quietly with Maman, then checked his watch.

“Alright you three, we need to get going if we’re going to make it on time.”

“Okay Papa,” said Teddy and Isabelle.

“James?”

He nodded.

They all gathered together, Papa taking Him and Teddy and Maman taking Isabelle, and in a moment they disappeared with a crack.

He felt like he was being squeezed through a very tight tube, and then they appeared in the French Ministry with another loud crack.

They waited for a moment for Maman to appear, then followed her when she did, waving to the pair of security guards standing by the entry point and tapping her wand on a round metal plate on the wall.

“Head on through,” the one on the left said, and they did so. It was a short walk to the portkey offices, and throughout it all Teddy kept talking about his time so far at Beauxbatons. About his classes,

“History isn’t too bad, but I keep falling asleep in astronomy,”

about the palace,

“I found a giant tapestry of a Tarrasque in the Library,”

And about the grounds,

“I went up the tower to watch the sunrise a few times, it was incredible!”

He tried to say something here and there, but Teddy never stayed focused on him for long.

“Have you been making many friends?” asked Papa.

“A few, some of my classmates and Me do our homework together,” said Teddy after a moment.

“Well, you’ve always got us,” he said, and Teddy smiled.

“Yeah, and I can’t wait to see everyone back in Britain too.”

They didn’t talk too much after that, instead focusing on following the instructions of the Ministry Porter who told them where to go and which portkey to take. But just before it was time for them to leave, he managed to slip in beside Teddy and tug on his sleeve.

“I can’t wait to tell you all the stuff we did,” he said, grinning as wide as he could.

“Sure,” said Teddy. “We can talk all about it.”

“Portkey to England, one-thirty, departing in ten… nine… eight…”

He grabbed the rim of the old wooden wheel, checking his grip on his bag one last time.

“Six… five… four…”

“Hold tight, you three.”

“Two… one… awa—”

There was a feeling like a sharp tug inside his belly, and they were gone.

Grandpa Weasley was waiting for them when they arrived.

The arrivals area of the British Portkey Office was a familiar sight by now, so James didn’t pay it too much attention as Grandpa Weasley started ushering them out of the room and back toward the atrium.

They were moving quickly, they always did in the British Ministry, and nobody talked too much as all around them people stopped and craned their necks to get a look at Papa as they walked by.

He wanted to keep talking to Teddy, who was walking along quietly looking down and frowning slightly, but it always felt weird to try and pretend that no one was looking when they were in Britain, and he knew that they’d be out soon anyway, so he didn’t bother.

The lift ride didn’t take long, and soon they were walking into the atrium past the fountain with the statues of the goblin smith, the potion brewing wizard, the house-elf baker, the transfigurist witch, and the astronomer centaur, through the golden gates, and toward the nearest floo grill along the long wall.

They disappeared one by one in a rush of green flames. Papa first, then Teddy, and finally James. He took the glittering green powder out of the sack on the wall and threw it down, shouting “The Burrow!” and making sure to speak as clearly as he could. And to tuck his elbows in.

The flames were warm and ticklish, and he smiled as he struggled against the laugh in his chest not to open his mouth so the soot wouldn’t get in. Then he felt a change in direction and braced himself, just barely managing to keep his footing as he flew out of the fireplace in The Burrow.

“There he is!”

“I swear he gets shorter every year,”

James’ grin broadened as his uncles Fred and George saw him arrive, holding their arms out wide and grinning too. Then the fireplace flared behind him and Uncle Fred put a hand on his shoulder, steering him out of the way as Isabelle came tumbling out, giggling madly.

“Aha, the final munchkin appears!” said Uncle George, ruffling Isabelle’s messy blonde hair at the same time as he helped her up.

“Uncle George, do you know where…”

“Back garden, love. Roxy’s with Sophie and Guinevere.”

“Thanks, Uncle George!”

James was looking around as Isabelle raced off, catching sight of his Aunt Ginny with Dennis and his baby cousin Arthur, his Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione closer to the kitchen saying hello to Papa, and his Uncle Bill talking to Grandpa Weasley, though he couldn’t see his cousin Lionel with him.

The Floo flared one final time and his Maman stepped gracefully through.

“Hello Fred, George.”

She glanced around, one eyebrow raising as she found only one of her children waiting for her.

“Teddy’s out front catching up with Andromeda and Isabelle went to go find Roxanne,” supplied Uncle George.

“Already?”

“Thick as thieves,” answered George with a shrug and a grin.

“Maman, where should we put our stuff?”

“Mum’s in charge of hiding the presents,” said Uncle Fred. “And Bill’s got a bunk tent set up outside for the munchkins.”

James scowled at being called a munchkin, but Uncle Fred just winked at him.

“Alright then, James. I’ll take your presents and give them to Molly, You go drop your stuff off in the tent.”

James nodded, eager to get to the good stuff as he darted away, just hearing one of his uncles say, “She’s out back with Charlie getting the table ready. We can start soon now tha—” as he left, ducking past his Papa and Grandpa Weasley as he went out the kitchen door.

He made his way to the bunk tent, a boxy-looking canvas tent with wooden poles and a glowing sign stuck above the flap, excited at the prospect of spending the night with his cousins when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and looked over to see Teddy and Aunt Andie sitting on the front porch talking. They were smiling, and James decided to leave them alone even though he wanted to talk to Teddy too.

He ducked under the flap and went in, eager to get settled quickly. His uncle’s mention of the table in the garden had reminded him of the feast it had been a few hours since breakfast that morning.

“A fine-looking goose, Harry.”

Papa flashed a grin at Grandpa Weasley as he set it down in the middle of the long table, and James couldn’t help but do the same as he saw Lionel stare at it with wide eyes, the young boy having forgotten all about his complaints to Uncle Bill about the wait. “Well, here we all are again together to celebrate another year gone, and another year on the way,” he continued, the table falling silent as they listened to Grandpa Weasley speak. Little Percy squirmed on the bench next to him, and James couldn’t help but agree as they waited impatiently for him to be done.

“To those of us with weary bones,” he nodded at Grandma Weasley and Aunt Andie, “and to those of us still fresh-faced and new,” he nodded at Aunt Ginny with baby Arthur and Dennis, who hadn’t been at last year’s feast, “we have just one thing to say. Tuck in.”

The table came alive with chatter all at once as people passed dishes and requested others, paused conversations resuming once the meal had begun.

“So Teddy, how’s Beauxbatons?” asked Guinevere.

She was a year younger than him, the third oldest of their generation behind him and Teddy, and unlike her little brother Lionel she seemed more interested in hearing stories than eating. Not that she wasn’t eating of course, just that she was sneaking in bites of Uncle Ron’s mince pie between questions.

“It’s great! I get to learn so many new things all the time, and the palace is amazing.”

“What’s your favourite class?”

“Definitely transfiguration, it just feels right. Anytime Professor Leclerc teaches us new theory it feels like she’s explaining what’s already in my head.”

“And what’s your favourite part of the school?”

“Probably the astronomy tower, it has great views. One time I got up super early and watched the sunrise over the mountains, it was ama—”

“Have you made any friends?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. A few. There’s a guy named Pierre in potions who helps m—”

“What are the mountains like?”

“Um, well, it’s all covered in forest an—”

“Does it snow there?”

“A bit, bu—”

“Wow! It never snows in Sudan, I can’t imagine living somewhere that cold for long.”

“It doesn’t get that cold, the school is just high up, it doesn’—”

“What abou—”

“Let him breathe, Gwin,” said Uncle Bill from across the table, leaning out from his conversation with Dennis to do so.

“Sorry, Dad,” Guinevere said with a blush, shrinking into her seat for a moment then brightening again,

“What about you, James, have you been up to anything fun?”

“Oh, euh,”

His mind flashed to all the things he’d been doing recently. Stringing herbs to dry in the kitchen, learning to bake bread, trips to the farmers market, going hunting for mussels and clams on the beach… He opened his mouth to start talking, then he glanced at Teddy. He was frowning again, not paying attention, and James felt his spirits fall.

“Not much,” he said lamely. “At least, not compared to Sudan.”

“Oh. Okay,” said Guinevere, her dark brown hair falling across her eyes for a moment. “Dad doesn’t let us go into the tombs with him, says it’s too dangerous, so me and Lionel don’t actually do that much except for when Dad takes places in the muggle world. One time—”

The feast went on like that for a while, everyone chatting and swapping stories as the platters of food slowly emptied.

“Where did you get this cinnamon bread, dear?”

“Oh, it was a gift from one of my coworkers. A young woman named Aimeé.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet. And delicious too, I was sure Harry must have made it but he said he hadn’t.”

Teddy stopped frowning as the evening wore on and the initial awkwardness of talking with family they hadn’t seen in a year faded away, but he still didn’t speak much and James had a sinking feeling that he wasn’t really listening.

“Teddy, do you think we could get Maman and Papa to let Roxy come and live with us next year?”

“Sure thing, Isabelle.”

The sun had begun to set by the time the table was finally clear, all of them sitting in a pleasant haze under the warming charms on the garden as clouds passed by and a gentle fall of snow began to dust the ground all around them, the flakes turning to mist just above their heads.

“Come on, you all,” said Grandma Weasley, standing up and walking over to the end of the table where James and his cousins were sitting. “You’ve all had quite a day, time to get washed up and sleep it off so you can be up bright and early tomorrow.”

James nodded slowly, half asleep already, and stood.

He followed the line of his cousins over to the bunk tent and then up to the house, taking it in turns to use the showers before going to bed, but as he walked back across the now completely white lawn to the tent he couldn’t help but notice something out of the corner of his eye.

Teddy was sitting with Aunt Andie again, and with them was their Maman.

James frowned as he opened the tent flap and went in, taking off his damp shoes and leaving them in the pile by the others before crossing the wood deck and climbing into bed, doing his best to ignore the sounds of Roxanne and Isabelle giggling to each other in the far corner as he pulled the soft comforter up to his chin and stared up and out of one of the rolled up windows at the moon high overhead.

Teddy had hardly spoken to him all day.

He’d been looking forward to seeing him again ever since he left, but now that he was back it almost seemed like he wasn’t there at all. Then a new idea occurred to him and his worry deepened.

What if he still didn’t want to talk to him tomorrow?

“PRESENTS!”

James woke with a start, struggling to blink the sleep from his eyes as Lionel made another run down the centre of the tent, still shouting.

“PRESENTS, GET UP! PRESENTS!”

There were groans and sounds of annoyance from throughout the tent, but as Lionel began his third circuit his message began to penetrate the fog over their brains.

“PRES—”

“WE HEARD YOU!”

Lionel grinned up at Guinevere who tried and failed to scowl back as she hopped one-legged toward the pile of shoes by the tent flap while pulling a sock onto the other foot.

James was fully awake now and hurriedly putting his own socks on, and as he looked around the tent he saw all the others doing the same. Teddy was there too, though James couldn’t remember him coming in the night before, and he looked just as excited as the rest of them.

“Come on slowpoke,” said Guinevere, now fully shod and tapping her foot anxiously as Lionel tried and failed to do up the laces on his trainers. “Ughh!” She knelt down and slapped his hands aside as little Sophie and Percy sprinted past, having decided to risk the snow in just their slippers rather than wait to put on their shoes, tying the laces in record speed with double knots included.

“Let’s go!”

The pair of them jumped up and ran, Teddy and James right behind them.

The air was cold.

It hit him like a solid thing, making his eyes go wide and his nostrils flare, but it felt good. He felt the cold but he wasn’t, and as the blinding glare of the sunlight off the snow faded he had his breath taken away again at the sight in front of him.

It had snowed.

Everything was covered in white, and the tottering pile of The Burrow’s many roofs were draped with thick blankets of it that drooped down off the corners until they reached the next peak, the many layers merging into a cascading winterfall of cool white that framed the glowing yellow lights shining out of every window.

All around them the trees were laden with frost, their branches bending and curving down under the weight as icicles formed at their tips. The pond was frozen over, the reeds dusted in white and the cattails capped with snowy hats like Smurfs, and the chicken coop had transformed overnight to look like a small snowy tavern with chickens poking their heads out the window as the rising sun lit up everything with a warm golden glow casting long, cool shadows across white fields interrupted only by the stem of the occasional winter flower poking out of the snow.

As he watched he saw the small shape of a little brown and black fox poke its head up out from the shadow of a small bush, stepping out into the snow and shaking itself clean before darting away into a burrow under a tree.

“James?”

He turned his gaze away from the silhouettes of his cousins as they raced across the ground between the tent and The Burrow, oddly mezmerized by the way the cool shapes moved framed by the light of the morning sun, like shadow puppets on a cave wall. He looked to the sound of Teddy’s voice, seeing him framed in the light of the open door, and started walking just as he called again.

“C’mon James, presents!”

He began to run, his smile growing so wide that it felt like it might split his face, the taste of the frosty air and the feel of each misty breath in his lungs exhilarating. Teddy darted in ahead of him, and then James was inside.

Instantly he was met with another wall of sensation.

The low hum of chatter filled the air, most of the grownups having already woken up and his sister and six cousins having preceded him into the building. He could smell bread baking, and he looked over at the kitchen to see his Papa and Uncle Ron in the room along with Grandma Weasley as they made baked goods to go with tea and coffee while they opened their presents.

And speaking of presents, the parlour was full to bursting.

The heavily decorated Christmas tree was all but buried in the corner, as it was every year, and James felt his eyes grow wide as he spied his name on several parcels and knew that he, like all his cousins, had gotten something from each and every one of his aunts and uncles.

“PleasePleasePleasePleasePleasePle—” “PleasePleasePleasePleasePleasePl—”

“Just a little longer, I promise,” said Uncle Bill from underneath Lionel and Guinevere, both of whom had jumped on top of him where he sat in an old armchair by the fireplace.

James looked to his Maman for confirmation of what that meant, utterly despondent as she confirmed that, yes, they had to, “Wait for your Papa, Grandma, and Uncle Ron to pull the scones out of the oven.”

James accepted the bitter pill stoically and sat in his place in the loose semicircle of children surrounding the pile of presents, waiting impatiently and fidgeting as the latest risers, Aunt Ginny and baby Arthur, filed into the room and then still longer as first Uncle Ron came out with a tray of mugs filled with hot cocoa and eggnog, though the grownups never let the kids have any of the latter, and then Papa who was drying his hands off with a towel he had tucked into his apron, and then finally Grandma Weasley with a huge wicker basket filled with scones wrapped in a tea-towl.

“The black-spotted ones are blueberry chocolate and the red-spotted ones are cranberry orange,” she said, passing out one of each to everyone. “Make sure you all get a couple bites in before the unwrapping begins,” she added. “We don’t any of you losing your strength partway.”

James’ eyes went wide, and he nodded seriously along with the others at Grandma Weasley’s admonishment before dutifully cramming half a scone into his mouth in one bite, chewing furiously to break up the delicious sweet bread into smaller crumbles as he took a swig of chocolate to soften it up enough to start swallowing a bit at a time.

“E’m erdy!” he hummed through his bulging cheeks, giving his grandmother a reassuring nod and double thumbs up as he did so.

She stared at him for a moment, her brows caught halfway to a frown and her mouth halfway to a smile as his Aunt Alicia choked on her own scone in laughter just behind her.

“Oh dear…”

“Do not put so much in your mouth at one time, James. You will choke,” said Maman gently from the couch where she was sitting between Papa, and Uncle George and Aunt Angelina.

“But that’s what the cocoa is for,” he said earnestly after gulping down the last bit of it and wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his pyjamas. “It softens it up so I don’t.”

“He’s got you there,” said Uncle Ron from where he was standing next to Aunt Hermione, who glared at him.

“Well,” said Grandma Weasley, clapping her hands together and looking like she was trying not to laugh herself, “now that we’ve all got a bit of food in our bellies, who wants to open some presents?”

They all cheered, and it was some time before they calmed enough to hear what Grandpa Weasley had to say next.

“Last year we did oldest first,” he began, reaching forward and plucking a small wrapped gift from near the top of the pile. “So, this year, we’ll start with the youngest. Each of you will get to open one gift all by yourselves in turn, and then once you’ve all got one you can have at it. Sound good?”

There were mixed murmurs of assent from the assembled youth, notably more enthusiastic from the youngest among them, and Grandpa Weasley smiled wide and nodded his head.

“Right then, beginning with young Arthur.”

He turned toward Aunt Ginny who was sitting on the second couch, Dennis by her side and smiling nervously as Grandpa Weasley approached and held out the present.

“You and he may have come into our family a little out of order, but we wouldn’t trade you for the world,” Grandpa said, passing the gift to Dennis who took it with shaking hands, unwrapping it to expose a small, lumpy shape of yarn. Aunt Ginny dabbed at her eyes a bit as Dennis unfolded it to reveal a tiny maroon jumper with a bright, light blue letter A knitted on the front.

“Thanks, Dad,” she said, giving Dennis’ hand a squeeze.

James shot a confused glance over at Guinevere, who shrugged.

“Right then, now for the next youngest,” said Grandpa Weasley, turning around and clapping his hands. “Which one of you is it again?”

“Arthur!”

“Me!” shouted Sophie. And, “Me!” shouted Percy.

“Oho? And which is it?”

“Me, Me!”

“Me, Me!”

“Are you sure?”

“Sophie’s two months older,” said Aunt Alicia over the rim of her eggnog.

“No she isn’t, you’ve got it backwards,” said Aunt Angelina, rounding on Aunt Alicia.”

“No no, Angie, I’m quite sure,” said Aunt Alicia, grinning as Uncle Fred began subtly conjuring a small banner.

“You hardly even remember that year,” Aunt Angelina retorted as Uncle George donned a green see-through visor and began tallying bets on a chalkboard he’d pulled out of nowhere.

“I’m pretty sure Lionel is younger than both of em,” called Uncle Charlie from the wings as he tossed a scrap of crumpled parchment over to Uncle George, who unwrapped it and raised his brows comically as he gave his older brother sidelong look then marked down Charlie in the betting pool with a flourish.

“Perhaps we’ll never know,” Grandpa Weasley interjected, subtly shaking his head at Uncle Fred’s offered ‘Alicia for Admiralty’ foam-cutout finger sign. “In fact, why don’t Sophie and Percy open their presents together?”

Sophie and Percy tore into their selected presents eagerly as Aunt Angelina let out an irritated huff and took a sip of her Eggnog.

Lionel was next, and then Roxanne who got a similar item to her little sister. Then it was Isabelle’s turn, then Guinevere, and finally James.

He selected a gift from the very back of the pile and had to stand on one foot and stretch out the other to maintain his balance as he reached it, pulling it back toward him with slightly shaking hands from the weight of the box as he pulled it close to him and sat back down.

Immediately Isabelle was telling him to hurry up, so of course he took his time carefully unwrapping every crease and fold of the blue and silver paper before crumpling it into a ball and tossing it at her as soon as it was off.

It was a wooden box, fairly flat but wide and long, and he found it had hinges and a latch. His Uncle Charlie leaned forward as he opened it, grinning broadly, and James felt his eyes go wide as he realised what it was. There was another colouring book inside the box, what looked like a bigger version of the same one he’d gotten previously but for older kids with more detailed drawings, but it was what was in the bottom and lid of the case that made his smile threaten to split his cheeks.

The case contained all manner of pencils, pens, ink sticks, brushes, and paints in all the colours! Not only that, but there were pots of special paints as well that glittered and shone like metal. No, not like metal.

Like dragon scales.

“You like it?” Asked Uncle Charlie.

“I love it!”

His uncle nodded brightly and gave him a thumbs up.

“And last but not least, Teddy’s turn.”

James turned at his grandpa’s voice, then twisted in place to watch as Teddy grabbed another boxy-looking item, this time from the very edge of the pile.

He tore the paper off in a frenzy, grinning like mad, then frowned in confusion. It was some kind of book, but as Teddy opened the first page his eyes went wide and he froze. Then he began frantically turning the pages before stopping and looking up at Papa and Aunt Andie, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide.

Papa frowned and picked his way across the room to peer down at the book, then his eyes went wide too.

“I asked around and interviewed people,” said Dennis from across the room, bringing all eyes on him. “A lot of people had one or two pictures with them from different points of their lives, and I thought he might like to have them.”

James craned his neck to see what all the fuss was about and managed to catch a glimpse of a photo of a woman in a spiky overcoat with a striped conical hat on her head and a party streamer between her lips, arm in arm with a man leaning on a staff whose face was so strange looking he must have been Mad-Eye Moody.

He felt his own eyes go wide in realisation and he stared over at Uncle Dennis, who was smiling bashfully as Aunt Ginny beamed at him.

“Thank you, Uncle Dennis,” said Teddy, causing the man to blush even more.

“It’s nothing,” he said, shifting awkwardly. “Besides, that was the last round! It’s presents for all now.”

They all started, shocked into the realisation that he was right, then dove toward the pile of presents like starving wolves.

The next two hours passed in a blur as the parlour of The Burrow was slowly buried in a sea of coloured paper and wrapping twine. James had received a gift from each of his aunts and uncles, as predicted, and so had everyone else. Christmas at The Burrow was always like that, more gifts than in a whole shop, even Fred and George’s, all of them just right for each of them.

He’d asked his Papa once, after describing their Christmases to Frank on one of the days they got together and seeing his surprise, why his aunt and uncles always got them all so much and why they were always so excited to see them open their presents when they did so.

His Papa had smiled softly and told him that, “When you grow up having very little but find that you suddenly have a lot, you can either choose to become jealous and greedy or you can choose to find joy in giving to others the things you didn’t have.”

But after a while, their stomachs brought a halt to the proceedings.

Percy’s tummy let out a mighty growl that shook the room, and all of a sudden James realised that he too was desperately hungry. He glanced at the scones he’d gotten earlier, now looking distinctly the worse for wear, and realised that he hadn’t taken a single bite since the first one.

“Well, if that isn’t the signal that it’s time to eat then I don’t know what is.”

He looked over at his Uncle Ron, who was grinning at little Percy and rubbing hands together.

“Whaddya say, Harry, a proper fry up?”

“Now hold on a minute Ronald—”

“I’d say so, mate. Full English sound good to you all?”

“Non, Harry, I do not think—”

“Right then, let’s get cracking shall we?” said Uncle Ron, patently ignoring Aunt Hermione as she glared at him with her arms crossed. “Charlie, would you mind raiding the coop? And Mum, where are the beans again?”

“The same place they’ve always been,” said Grandma Weasley from her spot on the loveseat with Grandpa as Papa disappeared through the kitchen door.

“Which would be…”

“In the back of the pantry, left side. On the bottom,” called Uncle Bill from across the room.

“Found them,” came Papa’s voice from inside the kitchen.

“Would you at least make us non-barbarians some lighter dishes as well?” called Maman.

“English muffins,” said Papa, poking his head through the doorframe. “Take it or leave it.”

Maman sighed dramatically.

“If I must.”

Papa grinned, ducking back into the kitchen and saying loudly, “Grab that extra butter too, Mate, we’re pulling out all the stops.”

“Men, what can you do with them” said Maman to Aunt Angelina. “One look at a kitchen and they are off in their own little world.”

Aunt Angelina scowled at her.

Aunt Hermione sat down on Aunt Angelina’s other side, nodding sagely. “They can’t be helped, truly.”

Aunt Angelina glared at her. “You know, sometimes it makes me quite angry just how lucky you two are.”

“Whatever for, surely Fred and George help with the cooking as well, non? After all, Harry tells me that much of cooking is not too different from potion making, and they are both quite skilled in that.”

Aunt Angelina started to laugh, then her eyes went wide as she looked at Fleur’s raised eyebrow and looked over at Aunt Hermione for confirmation. She and Aunt Alicia looked at each other for a moment from across the room, then turned slowly in unison to look up at Uncle George and Uncle Fred, who had frozen in place with looks of mounting panic on their faces.

“Why you littl—”

Uncle George bolted first as Aunt Angelina sprang to her feet, Uncle Fred just behind him as Aunt Alicia began her pursuit as well. James and the seven others each crowded around the window, battered scones and magically-warm mugs of cocoa in their hands as they watched the epic battle taking place outside with wide eyes.

The battle raged for some time, and the eight of them watched with bated breath as ice and snow were hurled back and forth with increasing creativity.

Grandma Weasley and Uncle Bill stepped into the kitchen to help Papa and Uncle Ron just as Aunt Alicia ducked out from behind an icy fortification and thrust her arms out stiffly in a motion as if she were straining to lift something to either side of her over her head, a fierce grin on her face. Their uncles paused for a moment as she made no further move, glancing at each other uncertainly, then little Percy gasped and pointed behind Aunt Alicia as something moved in the corner of James’ eye.

His uncles stood frozen with mouths agape as snow from across the lawn lifted up behind Aunt Alicia in a single unbroken mass, arcing gracefully through the air and turning as if it were the cover to a giant snowy book being turned to land on their uncles’ heads and smother them.

Their uncles burst into action as the tidal wave of snow approached them, charming the snow around them into a giant igloo which they then transfigured into solid, clear ice to hide inside. But just as the snow neared them a flash of bright silver light struck the igloo and it crumbled into chunks around them.

Their uncles had just enough time to stare in astonishment at Aunt Angelina as she waved from behind the same fortification that Aunt Alicia had emerged from, and then they were buried in the deluge.

They popped out a moment later, heads and limbs sticking awkwardly up from the pile of snow and laughing raucously.

Then the snow began to move again, the entire field coming to life at once and sliding smoothly around their aunts and uncles both as it released the latter and flowed back into its previous, undisturbed state as if the epic battle had never occurred.

James exchanged glances with the others in confusion, then caught a spot of black at the edge of his vision and turned to see his Papa standing just outside the kitchen door with his wand held loosely in his hand.

He called something to the four of them that James couldn’t hear and they all turned to head inside. A moment later he walked into the Parlour and called for each of them to come in and grab a plate and a napkin and to try not to spill on the couches or rugs.

Most of the day was spent playing after that.

James and the others decided to imitate their aunts and uncles and went outside for a snowball fight of epic proportions, reenacting the battle from earlier to the best of their ability, and every so often when he would come inside to grab a cocoa or a glass of water James would see his parents and the other grownups playing games of their own.

There was a game of cards going on at a round table in the corner run by Uncle George, who was wearing the same visor from earlier, and people came and went from the table throughout the day, never the same five sitting around it when James came in. By contrast, the same game of Chess had been going on in the kitchen all day as his Papa and Maman sat on either side of Aunt Hermione and worked together to keep Uncle Ron at bay for as long as they could, who was chatting all the while with Uncle Dennis.

But all good things must come to an end.

The sun began to set and, with a true chill setting in and the eight of them thoroughly exhausted, James and the others trudged inside just in time to see Aunt Hermione move a pawn she had not yet touched two spaces forward and declare, louder and more triumphantly than any of them had ever heard her voice before, “Checkmate."

Uncle Ron gaped at the three of them where they sat looking smugly at him, then at the board, then back at them. Then he started to grin.

“You know what this means, right?”

Aunt Hermione’s smile faded slightly.

“It means I’m not gonna let you rest until you can do that again, and without these two helping.”

Papa snorted at the look on Aunt Hermione’s face and stood, gesturing for the eight children to follow him into the kitchen as Aunt Hermione’s eyes went wide and she put her head in her hands.

Grandma Weasley joined them and, in short order, they had a massive pot of tea brewing and several platters of sandwiches made from the leftovers from that morning and the night before.

The grownups moved their games out of the parlour as James and the others moved in, and for the next hour or so they all sat around contentedly, slowly eating and drinking their way through the sandwiches and tea that Papa and Grandma had given them.

All of them except one.

Teddy was sitting a short ways apart from the rest of them, and as James bit into his second helping of goose and fried tomato sandwich he couldn’t help but remember his misgivings from the night before.

Teddy wasn’t all but asleep like Sophie, Percy, and Guinevere were, he wasn’t tearing his way through a fifth helping of sandwich like Lionel was, and he wasn’t sitting close with any of them whispering and giggling like Isabelle and Roxanne were. He was just sitting there, turning the pages in his photo album, not saying a thing.

James cleared his throat, trying to get his attention, but Teddy didn’t respond.

He leaned over next, trying to get into his view, but that didn’t do anything either and James suddenly felt very lost and awkward. He looked down at the photo Teddy was staring at and saw it was of several young men and women in matching black robes with different coloured ties.

They were each holding a quill over their heads and were walking out of a big room with an arched ceiling filled with small desks. As one they all dropped the quills and began cheering. For a second James thought one of them was their Papa when he was younger, but that wasn’t right.

Then he realized it was James. Not him, the other James. His grandfather. His actual grandfather, the one he’d never known. And if that was James, then that must make the boy on his left Sirius and the boy on his right Remus, Teddy’s father. Not his papa, that was their Papa, but his actual father. The one he’d never known either.

He didn’t know who any of the other people in the photo were, there were quite a few, but they all looked about the same age.

He suddenly felt very strange, like he was seeing something he wasn’t supposed to. Like when Papa would sometimes go still and stare at nothing, seeing something James couldn’t see. He didn’t like feeling like that. And he didn’t like that he felt that way about Teddy, either.

James frowned, sinking back into his chair and thinking hard as his discomfort grew.

He didn’t want Teddy to be like that, he wanted him back. He wanted the Teddy from that summer, the one who would tell him everything and listen to everything. The Teddy that was always excited to go mussel hunting with them or to pile in the truck and go driving down to the farmer’s market through Muggle France.

He didn’t want the Teddy that stared quietly at pictures, he didn’t want the Teddy that stayed up late talking to Aunt Andie and Maman, and he definitely didn’t want the Teddy that only pretended to listen when James had something he wanted to tell him. He wanted the real Teddy, the one he’d grown up with, but he didn’t seem to be here anymore.

He suddenly didn’t feel very Christmas-y at all.

James stood. Teddy didn’t look up and neither did any of the others, and he was able to slip out of the Parlour without being noticed.

Most of the grownups had gone to bed already, and James idly wondered if soon Teddy would start getting tired so quickly too and wouldn’t be able to play snowball fights anymore. Then he heard a noise from the kitchen. The door to the parlour was shut, but James pushed it silently open and peeked inside.

Aunt Andie, Papa, and Grandpa and Grandma Weasley were all sitting at the kitchen table. They had small glasses in their hands filled with a brown liquid, and James recognized the glass bottle on the table as of the kind he wasn’t allowed to use even when cooking.

They were being quiet too, and Grandma Weasley sniffed loudly and dabbed at her eyes.

James felt it again and he frowned, pulling back and feeling even more confused as he started to gently shut the kitchen door, but the hinge creaked going the other way. A set of blue eyes shot up, and James blushed and pulled back quickly as Grandpa Weasley’s gaze found his.

Suddenly, The Burrow felt very small.

He remembered how he’d felt that morning when he’d first stepped out of the tent, so he made his way to the front door and slipped outside. There was no one sitting on the porch this time, and James made his way over to the rocking chair he’d seen Aunt Andie sitting in just the night before.

It was snowing.

The cold air tasted fresh in his mouth, and it filled his chest in a way that made it feel like every breath was deeper than any he’d ever taken before.

Suddenly, his chest and throat felt tight.

He sniffed, confused, staring across the snow. The ruts and trenches from their snowball fight were filling up again and James reckoned they’d disappear completely by morning. That just made the tight spot in his chest even tighter.

He sat there for a while, watching the snow fall and feeling things he couldn’t describe.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

He started, looking up to see Grandpa Weasley sitting in the rocking chair next to him as if he’d been there the entire time.

Somewhere nearby, an owl hooted.

“Grandpa?”

He smiled down at him, and James suddenly both felt better and like he wanted to cry even more. He screwed up his face instead, not at all sure what to do with the feelings in his chest.

“It’s okay, James.”

“What’s okay?”

“All of it, every little thing.”

He did start crying then, the hot tears tracing burning lines down his cheeks that became even colder once they were gone.

He looked away, his gaze casting out across the snowy fields as he searched for something. Grandpa Weasley stayed quiet, rocking gently back and forth as they watched the snow fall.

“I want Teddy back,” he said after a moment, the one thing that he was sure of.

“Has he gone somewhere?”

“He went to school. And now he’s…”

“Different?”

“He’s not Teddy anymore.”

“I see.”

The owl hooted again, and James watched it soar across the open sky, its white wings just barely visible against its silhouette on the moon. It felt good to have said it, for a little while, but the seconds passed and nothing had changed.

“Once, when I was a much younger man, I was best friends with my brother Bilius.”

James looked over at him, but Grandpa Weasley’s gaze was still fixed on the owl overhead.

“We did everything together when we were little, but as we grew older we started to drift apart.”

A pit settled in his stomach.

“We were friends as children mostly because we were familiar with each other. Oh, we had our spats of course but, for the most part, we were as close as your left and right hands.”

James looked down at his hands, resting limply together in his lap, then he moved them apart.

“Ah, and there you see the rub.”

He looked up again to find Grandpa Weasley looking down at him kindly.

“We were still the same people, of course. Still loved each other, but we drifted. The right hand goes right, the left hand goes left.”

“So Teddy’s gone forever?”

“I didn’t say that, now did I”

As James watched, Grandpa Weasley brought his hands back together again.

“So, he’ll come back?”

“He isn’t gone.”

“Yes, he is!”

Grandpa’s face softened.

“No, James. He isn’t. Teddy is just going through a change in his life and needs a bit of time to sort it out.”

“And then he’ll come back?”

“Yes, though not the same.”

The pit in his stomach opened into a gaping void.

“Oh.”

They went quiet again, and James started rocking his chair too. It felt nice. A cool breeze went by, ruffling his hair, and he watched as it disturbed the caps of snow on top of the reeds in the pond. Little avalanches misting into clouds before they touched the ground.

“Change isn’t a bad thing, James.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure, all the best things in my life have been big changes. I was a very different person before I met Molly and a very different person between meeting her and marrying her. I was different before your Uncle Bill was born and I was different after your Aunt Ginny was too. I was different before your Father became a part of our lives, and I’ll never forget how my world changed when I learned that your Mother was pregnant with you.”

James looked at him uncertainly.

“Nothing stays the same, James, and that’s okay. The secret to being happy is to learn to appreciate the change, to embrace and it take it as a chance to discover something new about yourself and the people you love with every changing day.”

“So it’s good that Teddy won’t talk to me?”

“I wouldn’t say that. It does hurt, and that’s real. But you aren’t losing the Teddy you knew, you’re gaining the Teddy he’s going to be.”

James tried to understand that, frowning in concentration as he tried to puzzle through what Grandpa Weasley had said. The owl hooted again somewhere far away.

“How long is it going to take?”

“It’ll never stop.”

He gaped at him.

“Every day, Teddy will wake up just a little bit different than he was the day before, and so will you.”

“No, I won’t!”

“Yes, you will,” he said with a chuckle. “But for every little part of you that changes, there’ll be another that stays the same. Eventually, if you stick around for long enough, you’ll get to see all the different things about a person that change, more than once even, except for those things. Those are the things that make us who we are, that stick around through it all.”

“So there are parts of us that don’t change?”

“Yes, but only a little. And that’s the joy of really getting to know someone over a lifetime, the joy of coming to appreciate those little things that do stay the same. And,”

He leaned forward, pulling James in to meet him.

“The joy of seeing how all those changing things shine a new light on the parts of people that stick around.”

James stayed quiet for a long moment.

“I’m going to change?”

“Yes, you are. And I can hardly wait to get to know you all over and over again.”

He woke slowly the next morning.

There was no Lionel sprinting up and down the tent shouting at the top of his lungs, no mad scramble to get shoes laced up and socks on feet, preferably not in that order, and no butterflies of anticipation as he imagined what awaited them inside.

His eyes opened slowly, the soft warmth of his pillow and blankets doing their utmost to stop him waking, but there was a shaft of sunlight streaming down across his face and making his eyelids glow a warm orange even when he kept them closed.

He got up.

A few of the others were doing the same, Guinevere and Teddy, and Lionel, but Sophie and Percy were grumbling in their beds and Isabelle and Roxanne were still sound asleep. They’d still been up talking when James went to bed the night before.

He got dressed, more calmly than the day previous, and followed Guinevere as she slipped outside.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the glare, but once again the sight that greeted him took his breath away.

The snow had frozen over during the night, a thin layer of crunchy ice settling on top of the soft powder, and the light of the risen sun scattered throughout to cover everything with a dancing, golden glow. His eyes sought out the site of their snowball fight from the previous day, expecting to be completely covered over, and they went wide.

It was still there.

It wasn’t completely the same, the trenches and pits and places where they’d fallen and tumbled around had softened, the snow having filled them halfway, but he could still see the places where they had been.

“Come on, James. Let’s get something to eat.”

He looked around at the sound of Teddy’s voice, but he was already walking past him up to the house. He paused when James didn’t follow and turned, his left eyebrow arching just like Maman’s did as he stared at James expectantly.

“Well?”

“I’m coming!” he said, shaken from his stupor by Teddy’s questioning look and hurrying up the path, smiling eagerly.

The morning began passing more quickly after that.

Grandma Weasley was already up and about and had scones ready and waiting for them along with tea and more leftovers. They didn’t all eat together this time, each new person instead grabbing a plate and mug as they arrived, but soon enough they were all fed and watered.

Packing came next.

They spent an hour or so scouring The Burrow, searching for every last bit of their things that had somehow managed to scatter themselves across their grandparent’s home, and then they returned to the tent to bundle up the rest of their things.

The grownups, except for Uncle Bill who had gone to help the younger kids pack, were waiting for them in the parlour as they arrived one at a time once they’d finished getting their things.

James was the fifth to walk in, having taken his time getting ready to leave, and he saw Isabelle and Roxanne begging for something from their Papa and Uncle George with Teddy standing awkwardly beside them.

“Teddy agrees too, right Teddy?” asked Roxanne.

“Er, yes?”

“See!” said Isabelle.

“A year’s a long time,” said Papa, looking across at Uncle George. “But maybe we can arrange for more visits?”

“Fine by me.”

Guinevere was the last to come in, dragging her feet and looking morose.

“It’ll be a whole year before I see you all again,” she said sadly, and James hugged her awkwardly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll still be with you.”

“But you’ll all be different, and I’ll miss out on it!”

“Not all of us,” he said, echoing what Grandpa Weasley had told him the night before. “The bits of us that matter will be the same, and we’ll get to have fun getting to know the rest all over again.”

She stared at him, her mouth hanging open, but her eyes did lift a little.

“Alright, Potters. It’s time to get going,” said Papa, his voice carrying across the room. “It’s already noon back home.”

They said their goodbyes, James hugging each of his aunts and uncles and cousins in turn. As he hugged Aunt Ginny and Uncle Dennis and patted baby Arthur on the forehead, he couldn’t help but wonder how different the little boy would be the next time he saw him.

Maybe he could teach him how to play gobstones.

He smiled at that thought as he waited for his turn to step into the fireplace and floo back to the ministry, and then something caught his eye from the corner of his vision. As Teddy disappeared in the green flames and Aunt Andie stepped forward, James turned to look at the thing that had caught his attention and saw Grandpa Weasley standing with his arm wrapped around Grandma Weasley, watching them all floo away.

James smiled, and he smiled back.

Then it was his turn to step through the floo. He grabbed the powder out of the little pot on the mantle, stepped into the grate, and threw it down saying, “The Ministry of Magic!”

He was gone.

Arthur watched as the green flames died down, smiling softly and squeezing Molly’s shoulder gently as Fleur stepped into the grate to vanish too.

‘You’d have liked them, Bili.’

“Knut for your thoughts, Arthur?”

“Oh, nothing much, Molly. Just that the more things change, the more they stay the same.”

AN: Thank you for reading. If you liked the story, please leave a comment telling me what worked and what didn’t. I see and read every single one, even long after the stories are posted, and I appreciate them all!

Harry/Fleur Discord Server: Link in my bio

Fanfic Recommendation: A fellow oneshot, Slow Dancing With a Memory by Gamer0890.