Chapter 13
“Oh, I wish I could come as well!” Hermione mused as Harry and Ron broke the news of their Christmas plans. While Hermione had holidays planned with her family, Harry had written to Lena to let her know he’d stay there - but that Ron and Charlie’s parents would be visiting Romania that Christmas, and to show them a nice time.
However, right as he was ready to put his name down, Professor McGonagall swooped the parchment from his hand, and instead gave him a piece of paper, with a signature he recognised. A Muggle form, allowing minors to travel alone between countries, bearing Lena’s swoopy, elegant signature at the bottom.
“I think you’ve had plans made for Christmas, Potter.” she said, offering the parchment to Dean Thomas, who passed it over.
“Can’t I stay? I’ve already told Mag-...my guardian that I want to stay over Christmas.”
“If your guardian has written asking for your return, you have to return home. Your mother has written one as well, Weasley.” she spoke up, putting an identical form in Ron’s hands, with Molly’s signature at the bottom. “I think Potter can help you navigate the details of travel. Your guardian sent tickets as an early Christmas gift for you both.”
“But-” Harry tried to plead with McGonagall, following her as she finished collecting the list of names and left the Gryffindor common room. However, no amount of pleading worked on the Head of his House, and she handed him an envelope with two sets of tickets, wishing him a safe trip.
And now, Hermione, who was leaving to go to France with her family, was commenting on how she wished she could visit Romania with them.
“With all of us gone, how are we going to find out if that’s really the Philosopher’s Stone?” Ron groaned, packing a mountain of sweaters in his rucksack. The common room was empty at that time, as most students were still sleeping, however Hagrid promised he would take all three to the train station near Hogsmeade, from where they could take a train to London.
“I didn’t know you planned to go look for it while I’d be gone.” Hermione snapped.
Harry listened to the two bickering as he packed his own bag, mulling over Lena’s sudden decision to have him back in Romania over Christmas. She has never made such decisions without him weighing in. What about all her talk about him taking control now that he was going to Hogwarts, letting him make decisions for himself? Surely, if she wanted him to return so badly, there must be a reason behind it. Maybe someone back home was ill. Maybe it was because of him writing about Ron’s family visiting Charlie, and she thought he wanted this? After all, she went through enough paperwork to not only get them tickets, get them mailed, but also get notarized Muggle paperwork for the both of them.
But that gave him an idea. He could take the picture with his parents with him - Avizina knew everyone. And if she knew Nicolas Flamel and his wife, which he found out in the final paragraphs of her letter, then surely she must know either the mysterious man, or at least a spell to discover who he is.
“You alright, mate? You’ve been awfully quiet.” Ron spoke up, and Harry looked up, waking up from his thoughts.
He had not only packed his bags, but apparently left the castle, traveled to Hogsmeade together with Hagrid, and was now standing on the one single platform at the Hogsmeade train station, having ignored everyone around him while rummaging deep in his own mind. He looked up, nodding, and noticed that it wasn’t just the three of them sitting there, waiting, but a fourth person as well, bundled in thick scarves from the shoulders to the top of their head.
“Yeah… what- what were we talking about?”
“How I’m jealous of you going to Romania… Anna, I didn’t even ask, are you going too then?” Hermione turned to the fourth person, who pulled the scarf down to speak.
“Sorry, Hermione, wasn’t paying attention. Going where?”
“To… Romania.”
Anna narrowed her eyes, looking at the three of them with a frown.
“Sorry, why would I go there?”
“Since you’re-... well-.” Hermione squirreled away, looking at Harry, despite him shaking his head as lightly as possible for Ana not to see, and trying to mutter a silent ‘no’ without moving his lips much. Yet Hermione did not seem to notice his invisible signs. “Well, Harry mentioned you’re Romanian, right, Harry?”
Harry looked at Anna, who moved her scarf back, covering her mouth, and shoved her hands in her pockets.
“I don’t like it much when people talk about me when I’m not there. I thought, if anyone would understand that, it’d be you.” she mumbled under her scarf. “I’m going back to Exeter, where I live, and where my parents live. And if you don’t mind, I’ll go to my platform now.”
Without saying goodbye, Ana started walking away from them, without saying another word. Harry couldn’t help but feel his stomach tighten, a sensation which carried on with him for hours on the train.
He had traveled the distance alone before, and guided Ron through the train ride to the port, the ferry ride, handling Muggle money and dealing with their paperwork, as he had done many times for himself, on trips without Lena. The knot in his stomach continued, and only lessened as they stepped down the tiny train station in Tosci.
“Well, I guess train stations look the same everywhere-” Ron mused, and Harry couldn’t help but agree. Under heavy snowfall, all places seem to mold into identical, idyllic sceneries. The station was no different, as even the snowstorm from Hogsmeade appeared to have followed them here. However, while Hogsmeade was sleeping under its blanket of heavy snow, a rumble, growing louder and louder, seemed to approach them in Tosci.
The knot in Harry’s stomach was lessening as he recognised the rumble as sounds of an accordion and a cimbalom, and a smile etched its way across his lips as he motioned for Ron to follow him.
He advanced through the snow with Ron following him, as the rumble became more distinguishable as music, and violin notes found themselves wrapping around his ears, dragging him closer. From the enormous snowflakes, he made out several figures, one advancing in long strides, hands outstretched outwards and above.
That had to be Lena, and Harry soon enough distinguished her in an enormous sheepskin coat, her hair, appearing white from the snowflakes. Behind her, Harry saw what had to be Ron’s parents, waving wildly to the two boys from underneath pale green tweed coats. Unlike Lena, they kept turning themselves every now and then, looking at the musicians. Soon enough, he could make out the figures of the musicians, and Harry could tell they recognised him as well, as they started playing with more force, one of the violinists starting to shout.
“Haida, haida, haida-! I-asculta!”
Like in a dream, beckoned and feeling as if he was pushed from behind, he grabbed Ron by the arm and almost ran to them, almost tripping over his feet. He felt Lena’s warm cheek against his own as she briefly kissed him hello, and introduced himself to Ron’s family as Lena bent down and pressed her cheeks against Ron’s. He turned to the musicians, and saluted each of them, almost toppling Niculai over as he wrapped his arms around his neck. Despite being a scrawny old man, with a sheepskin coat thrown over his shoulders, and with a stooped back from not having his cane to rely on, he looked as wide as tall. The old man almost dropped his bow as Harry grasped him, and bent down slightly to kiss both of his cheeks, before fixing his fiddle and bow, and continuing to play.
With a wave of her wand, Ron’s mother made both of their bags disappear, and Lena grabbed them both by their arms, pushing them at the front of the convoy as they returned towards the village. She continued dancing, swaying between them, as she taught Ron how to step back and forth to the rhythm of the music.
“You didn’t have to…” started Harry, waving with his free arm towards the musicians.. “All this-”
“What, you think it’s all for you? Harry, I didn’t raise a narcissist, it’s for our esteemed guests!” she grinned, and held tighter onto his arm.
The musicians had left after guiding them to the gate, each of them wishing Harry well and expressing their excitement for him returning for the holidays. Gavril’s uncle, the accordion player, mentioned he wouldn’t be back until after New Years, as he had something to attend with his father. Niculai was the only one who stayed behind, watching them from behind the fence until they had all entered Lena’s house.
“Alright, I’ve put in a bed for you Ron to sleep in Harry’s room. Unfortunately, the attic isn’t done yet, but Charlie has some spare room over the holiday where he works at the reserve, so Molly and Arthur have been staying there.” Lena opened the door to Harry’s bedroom, where the boys saw their bags leaning against Harry’s old, wooden desk.
”I’ve told you, I can fix that attic with just two spells-”
“My Muggle grandpa, God bless his soul-” Lena started, taking a breath as she tried to find her words and translate.
Despite having never met the man, and only heard him from stories, Harry knew exactly what he would do, and had no issues finishing the sentence.
“Would spin in his grave if we used any magic to undo his hard work.” he said amused, taking a seat at the table. Mr. Weasley, amused, put his wand back inside his coat, and commented that he would be very interested to learn more about the grandpa.
And indeed, in the evenings they would spend together having dinner, Mr. Weasley would not only feast on the many stews and dishes laid out in front of them, but also on Muggle photo albums Lena had around, as well as various old tools stored for nostalgia, as well as a chest full of weaving supplies Lena’s great-grandmother had received when she was married. Harry knew that that one chest, alongside one “more fit for purpose for a wizard“ would then be transferred to himself when he’d be married, and he already dreaded the distant day that he’d have to explain to his future wife why he brought two enormous chests.
Harry and Ron started enjoying the Christmas holidays as well, as Harry took Ron to all the places he used to spend his childhood in. They even went to Gavril’s family’s house, where their hosts treated them to an array of pastries and oranges, and would not relent on showering the both of them with gifts. Harry couldn’t help but be amused that for once in his life, the person that had all the attention on him was Ron - the village rarely got foreign visitors, apart from the rare times Dragon Sanctuary employees would wander around, looking for baby dragons that adventured a little too far from their home. Gavril’s family knew Harry just as that - Harry. Ron, however, with his inability to speak a lick of Romanian, his pale face, red hair and freckles was an oddity for them, one who “just had to try mamulea’s jams”, as Gavril’s mother put it.
It was upon their departure that Harry finally caught his chance, seeing a cloud of dark green emanate from behind a fence. Shortly after, a familiar head raised itself, wiping at her brow with a kerchief.
“Ron, look. That’s who I was telling you about back at Hogwarts, that’s Avizina. If someone can help us figure out who the man in the picture is…”
“You have it on you, right?”
Harry had been carrying the picture since they had arrived, and with a trembling hand, took it out as they approached the fence.
“Lele Avizino! Saru-mana, uh, can we come in for a bit?”
Avizina turned around, and put the kerchief down, approaching the gate. Harry motioned for Ron to come with him.
“You and what army?”
“It’s me, lele, and my friend, Ron Weasley. He’s here with his family.”
“Ah, those two who’ve been staying with Magdalena, huh… Your dad surely has something with Muggles, doesn’t he, son? When Magdalena brought ‘em here a few days ago, your dad wouldn’t leave poor old Niculai alone for a moment. “
“Uh… s-sorry for my dad.”
“Don’t worry, son. Good fo him, Niculai doesn’t get much wizarding company that bothers with him. What can I do for you boys then? I can’t stay here much, this beast needs to be brewed until New Years.” Avizina grumbled, pointing to the billowing smoke behind her.
“I- … Hagrid gave me some pictures of my parents and- there’s this man here. Look.” Harry handed her the wedding picture with the mysterious man, and looked at her reaction. Avizina narrowed her eyes, and didn’t seem to recognise who that was, flipping the picture over. “We think his name may be there, but it got-”
“The shoddiest job to cover it. I can see that. You’re a bit behind your spells, boys.” Furrowing her brows, the witch mumbled a spell under her breath, and the boys watched her eyes dart across the back of the photograph. “Hm.”
Harry watched as his parents looked at each other lovingly in the photograph, snowflakes falling on his glasses as he looked up at both the photograph and Avizina.
“Come in, boys. There’s some things we need to talk about before I give you this back, Harry. Niculai, iesi si tu putin.”
The gate opened behind Avizina, and the boys entered it as she moved her wand above an enormous cauldron, a giant wooden spoon moving clockwise. From under a frozen tree, Niculai, bundled in a sheepskin coat, put on his usual hat, and lifted himself slowly with his cane, coughing as he did so.
“He doesn’t look well.” Ron whispered to Harry, as Niculai lifted his hat to salute the boys on his way out. “Is he alright going out in this weather?”
“He’ll bury us all, that man of mine.” Avizina laughed, conjuring two chairs and three ceramic mugs. “Sit down, sit. Ron, my boy, you’re a British wizard, full wizard, like your mother and father, yes?”
“Y-yes ma’am.”
“So you may know this man by name. This, my boys” Avizina said, lifting the photograph and pointing at the man. “Seems to be none other than Sirius Black.”