Christmas of Past, Present and Future
A/N: Marauders era. James Potter x Reader (house not specified). I think I kept it gender neutral but not proof read so something may have slipped through.
Hogwarts at Christmas was as festive as could be, with knights that sung carols and fairies that lit up the trees. It was spectular. Professor Flitwick always ran an extracurricular class to teach animation spells for wrapping paper, and Professor Sprout and Hagrid showed how to make wreaths and garlands to invite peace into the home without any of the pests. Spirits were high amongst the students because the holidays were coming and the professors were excited to have a reprieve from the chaos, if only for a couple of weeks.
"Come on, YN!" One of your friends called. "Maccy G will have our guts for garters if we're late to the end of term feast." Oh how you regretted taking them to McDonald's in the summer when that nickname got invented because of it.
"Maccy G?" A voice questioned with unrestrained glee.
"If you tell her that nickname is my fault, I'll have your guts for garters, Potter," you warned with no real heat.
"Kinky," James Potter teased as he fell into step beside you, the tapestry he'd appeared out from falling back into place. "But don't you worry a hair on your head. I can keep a secret. Besides, she'd blame me anyway and I don't need another detention."
You made a noise of agreement. James was well known for being a trouble maker. In his younger years he was a bit of a bully too, but this year he'd had a better moral compass. That didn't mean he got into any less trouble with his perpetually exasperated head of house.
He launched into a tale about his latest totally unjust detention than involved a firework, a broom closet, and a bucket of unidentified slime, entertaining you until you made it to the Great Hall.
You rejoined your friends in your normal spot. The food was lovely as always, but it sat heavy and their conversation entirely revolved around holiday plans and who could meet up with who.
As you were having to stay at Hogwarts this year, you couldn't join in with the plan making. Loneliness felt like a cloak around your shoulders. A fake smile kept your friends off your case, and they bought the lie that you had too much at lunch when your plate was still half full at the end of the meal. You didn't have any pudding. They were too caught up in the hype to notice. To top the dinner off, you had to pretend not to notice that every now and then, James Potter stared right at you with a concerned frown.
You managed to fake happy up until the point they left to take the carriages to the station the next morning. Once they were gone, you dropped the pretence. There was no need for it any more. All your friends had gone home this year so there was no one to tattle out of concern to the rest of the group if you finally looked as miserable as you felt.
Wrapping your cloak tighter around your torso, you made your way to the north tower. Most people didn't come up here, except to attend divination lessons, but there was a delightful alcove with a stone bench that had at some point been enchanted to feel like you were sat on a cloud. The window opposite had a view of forest.
This was one of your favourite places in the whole of the castle. It held a quietness that the rest of the castle lacked. It was like the magic of Hogwarts built up from this quiet, barely used tower until it had the strength to wash over the rest of the castle. A sentience that had nothing to do with the portraits nor students nor enchanted objects. The feeling came from the very walls. It was protective and soothing and you always left that alcove feeling rejuvenated.
Settling on the bench, you observed the life outside. You kept a mental catalogue of all the species and creatures you'd seen from this exact spot over the years. A thestral sometimes, owls if it was closer to dusk. Then there were the normal birds like robins and blackbirds, plentiful and with a ready song. Once, in your third year, you'd seen the headmaster's pheonix. Ocassionally you'd see the centaurs or a unicorn, but it was rare that they ventured this close to the castle without a member of staff meeting them for one reason or another.
You skipped lunch, not ready to be social with the few who remained, and kept watching the world outside.
It seemed so silly to be upset about not going home for Christmas in the grand scheme of things, but you already felt like you were missing out. At Hogwarts, Christmas was a one day affair focussed on food and presents. At home, it was a blend of rituals and traditions. Your family had a blended muggle and wizarding background so while yes, you celebrated Christmas, you also had traditions influenced by old wizarding rites. The yule log on the solstice, the sacrifice of magic to the earth, doing things by hand to appreciate the gift you had. They were what made the season so special. They were also frowned upon in some circles - not enough old magick for the most conservative, too traditional for the opposition, outdated to new blood.
It wasn't just the traditions either. You also missed your family. It was your first Christmas without them, and you just needed to process the homesickness you hadn't felt since first year. Your family would all be together for the holidays as usual, one way or another. It was just you left out in the cold.
Footsteps broke the silence you had been enjoying. Hastily scrubbing your face in case any tears had leaked, you leaned forward to peer around the corner and saw none other than James Potter coming down the corridor.
"Are you going to sit here all day?" He asked, letting out a surprised grunt when the bench wasn't as hard as he expected. You didn't even question how he knew you'd been here since the morning at this point. He always seemed to know where everyone was.
"Not all day," you replied. "Just missing home. Christmas isn't the same here."
Understanding flickered across his face. "You practice the traditions?"
"A variation. It doesn't seem right to not honour magic, but Dumbledore will never make an exception. He's the one who got rid of them."
It was true. Every holiday had darker, blood sacrifice levels of rituals that had been performed at some point in history. Those were the ones that were most dangerous, to the practitioner as well as to other creatures who were often sacrificed unwillingly. A small minority had ruined it for all because everyone was tarred with the same brush. Now, even the sanitised version became a dirty little secret even though you weren't ashamed of them.
"Tell me about them?" James asked. "I'll tell you mine."
And so you did. You sat there as the daylight faded telling him all the ways your family spent the holidays, and he shared his in return. There were some similarites and some differences, but there was a shared understanding of the importance of such rites. With each detail shared, you felt the weight lifting off of you. Speaking of the rituals wasn't the same as doing them, but acknowledging them aloud with Hogwarts listening in with a swell of magic curling around the alcove uplifted you.
Eventually, James took your hand and led you to the kitchens (you'd missed dinner, too engrossed in storytelling). There was a little table that you sat at, plied with warming bowls of stew and bread and goblets of juice. At his request, the house elves shared what they remembered about the solstice and yule traditions in years gone by. It was fascinating. You couldn't stop asking questions after that, backing off and redirecting the conversation when there were secrets they could not or would not share.
"Yous should be asking the centaurs," said a delightful elf called Hattie when the stew was gone and you were getting ready to head back to your dormitories. "Wes be knowing the castle, but theys be knowing the grounds."
You looked to James with eyes shining. It was getting late, curfew was in half an hour. It was the perfect time for an adventure. With a hint of mischief, the pair of you ran down hallways and darted through secret passages until you entered the Forbidden Forest with the supplies Hattie had provided. You placed the offering on a log in a clearing, then stood back with James in an area of moonlight.
"Do you think they'll come?" You whispered after five minutes. Before he could answer, someone else did.
"Students are not meant to be here. What is it you seek?" You and James jumped as out from the treeline with nary a sound appeared three centaurs. They had bows and quivers but they didn't seem hostile, just wary. You had a feeling they'd been watching you long before they entered the clearing.
"Please, sir, we just wondered if you could tell us about the yuletide rites that used to be practiced. Hattie said you might be able to help," you explained.
"Hattie, you say?" Glances were exchanged, before a silent agreement was made between the trio. A soft smile crossed the middle centaur's face as he came closer to the pair of you, lowering himself to the ground. "Sit, children, and let me tell you of the past and the present."
You didn't hesitate to settle onto the forest floor. Even James was enthralled, an attentiveness in his posture that you'd never seen before. The centaur, he introduced himself as Rowan, was a fantastic narrator. You could almost feel the power of the rites of times gone by, awed by the tales his great-grandsire had told him as a foal of wizard and beings and beasts all forming the ritual circles in harmony, leaving offerings together and sharing the task of lighting the yule fire, of the sharing of knowledge and magic to bring in a hopeful New Year.
Your head was bursting with all the new information you had learned when Rowan, some hours after he started, insisted you return to the castle. James led the way as you stole back into the school, keeping to the shadows to avoid being caught. Curfew had long since passed so you kept quiet, not daring to discuss anything you'd been told.
James escorted you all the way back to your common room. You turned to face him, giddy from the sneaking around. Without hesitation you hugged him tightly, before stepping back.
"Thank you for today. It was a good distraction, and it was nice talk openly about yule," you said. That it had given you ideas on how to honour the traditions in a stripped back way in your dormitory was even better.
"No, thank you. I forget about the meaning behind traditions sometimes. After tonight, I don't think I'll forget again." His eyes were just as bright as yours, hair wild from the wind and the low reaching branches. He seemed like a woodland creature himself in that moment, aglow with knowledge imparted in good faith.
A yawn surprised you, tiredness following behind as the excitement receded now your bed was so close.
"That's my cue, I guess. Goodnight, James. I'll see you tomorrow?" You smiled softly when he agreed.
With a final grin and a little wave, you made your way up the stairs to head to bed. You didn't see James borrow an abandoned quill to start scratching out a list of things needed to complete at least one of the rites he'd learned about that night. He was sure the boys would be willing to get stuck in as well.
When the list was complete and the ink dried, he tucked the parchment into his pocket. He looked at the direction you'd gone with a secretive grin. He couldn't wait to see your face when everything was ready.
"Goodnight," he whispered.
