#12daysofshipmas

Lily continued to turn the pages of the photo album. “Daddy’s in this one!”

The photo she pointed to was from the Christmas before when Daddy had received a funny present from Uncle Neville of a set of beard baubles. The photo showed Albus and his siblings happily hanging the decorations from Harry’s beard until he looked completely ridiculous. Albus remembered it had been the most fun ever because Daddy had looked like a Christmas tree turned upside-down.

“We should take a photo of all five of us,” Mummy persisted. “I can put it on my desk at work.”

Mummy’s ‘desk at work’ wasn’t something that she liked very much, Albus thought. He often heard Mummy complaining about her desk at work and Daddy suggesting that she did her writing flying around on her broomstick instead. Albus asked if he could come to work with Mummy on her broomstick but Daddy said he was joking.

Maybe if Mummy had a photo of everybody on her desk at work, she would like it more. Just like Albus had a photo of Mummy and Daddy on the wall beside his bed in case he missed them in the night.

“Who’s going to take it?” Daddy asked, looking around the room in case a professional photographer might be hiding.

“We’ll put one of those self-timer charms on the camera,” Mummy replied and she stood up, lowering Lily to the ground. “Lils, how would you like to put your prettiest party dress on and take a photo?”

Lily beamed and abandoned the photo album on the table so she could charge off to her bedroom.

“There, now we have to do it,” Mummy said to Daddy. Daddy sighed in the way he always did when Lily asked to be carried somewhere: like he was pretending to be annoyed but he wasn’t really.

“What do you mean we have to dress up for a photo, Lily?” James’ sulky voice was the first thing Albus heard when they all followed Lily upstairs.

“Dress up? As in a costume?” Albus asked dubiously, thinking maybe he’d misunderstood what was said downstairs.

“No! Dress up in pretty clothes!” Lily cried as if it were obvious. She dashed into her bedroom, leaving Albus feeling bewildered and confused and James looking suspicious and angry.

“I am not wearing dress robes.” He folded his arms across his body and scowled.

Dress robes? Nobody had mentioned anything about dress robes but Albus knew how much James didn’t like wearing them, which meant he definitely wouldn’t like wearing them either. “Me too!” Albus replied, copying his brother’s stance.

“Nobody said you had to wear dress robes,” Daddy laughed and Albus unfolded his arms, feeling a bit silly. “Mum wants us all to take a photo together next to the Christmas tree.”

This seemed to fit better with what Albus had thought was happening and he was struck with a sudden idea. “Oh, can I wear my new dragon t-shirt?” he asked enthusiastically and when Daddy nodded, he ran off to find it. It didn’t take long because he knew exactly where it was.

“Do you want to wear your quaffle t-shirt, James?” Daddy was asking when Albus came back.

James shrugged and then considered the question. “Maybe my t-shirt with all the different spells written on it?” he suggested.

“Excellent idea.” Daddy nodded and James rushed off.

Daddy tried to help Albus change into his dragon t-shirt, but Albus reminded him that he was four, nearly five, and could get dressed all by himself. He managed it on his own, and when his head popped out of the dragon t-shirt, Mummy was there with one of Albus’ least favourite things in her hand and attacking his head. He squirmed away from her.

“Al, please will you just sit still for a second so I can brush your hair.” Mummy pleaded with him but he didn’t look at her and instead stared grumpily down at the dragon on the front of his top.

“You already did brush my hair. I’m nearly five, I can do it myself.” Albus found it so infuriating that they didn’t understand he could do everything on his own now easily.

“I give up.” Mummy handed Daddy the hairbrush with a noise that sounded like she wasn’t going to try anymore. “Harry, that hair is all yours.”

Albus knew that Daddy had the hairbrush now, which was better than Mummy having it, but he still eyed Daddy sulkily as he approached him. “Come here, baby boy,” he said kindly and Albus felt a rush of annoyance go all the way through his body.

He definitely was not going to go to Daddy if he was calling him the wrong name after Albus asked Mummy and Daddy to never call him that again when he started school. He wasn’t a baby boy.

“You’re not supposed to call me that anymore!” He folded his arms in frustration and Daddy looked like he had done that time Mummy found out about the secret sweets he kept in the car.

“Sorry, Al. Force of habit. I’m sure my very big and grown up boy can brush his own hair.” Harry passed the hairbrush to Albus, who was pleased to be called very big and grown up. “Here, give it your best shot.” When Mummy wasn’t looking, he put his arm around Al and whispered in his ear. “But we both know it won’t make any difference. Just do it for Mummy please.”

Albus smiled and accepted the hairbrush.

A short while later, the camera was levitated to hover at the correct height and a self-timing charm had been cast. The family stood in front of the Christmas tree, Daddy with one arm around Mummy and the other around James. Mummy placed her other arm around Albus and Lily too.

“Now what?” Daddy asked as they all stood ready for the camera to flash.

“You have to flick your wand to activate the charm,” Mummy explained.

Daddy reached into his back pocket to retrieve his wand, making everyone around him move. As soon as he gripped his hand around it, the camera flashed, taking them all by surprise.

“I wasn’t even ready!” Lily cried indignantly.

“Can we go and play now?” James asked hurriedly.

“No, that was a practice. It wasn’t supposed to go off until you pointed your wand at it, Harry?”

“This is a very old camera,” Daddy muttered. “Let’s try again.”

This time, Daddy had his wand out ready before they stood in front of the tree facing the camera, which Albus thought he probably should have done in the first place. He pointed it at the camera which flashed green once and Daddy quickly hid his wand behind Mummy’s back.

Nothing happened for several seconds.

“Did it work?” James asked with confusion. “It didn’t flash.”

“This is boring,” Albus complained with a sigh while Lily experimentally placed her flower headband on his head and he laughed. He felt like one of the fairies on the Christmas tree but he knew Lily would never let him keep it.

“It’s meant to flash. Maybe we need to-”

The camera suddenly flashed brightly even though none of the Potters were ready and Albus was still wearing Lily’s hairband when Lily was supposed to wear it for the photo.

“Third time lucky, stay still until it flashes.”

Lily reclaimed her hairband and they set up again. Daddy started the timer and they waited patiently for the flash. Lily began to jump up and down with excitement and in the process, bumped into James who loudly complained and stepped backwards right onto Daddy’s foot. Daddy yelped in pain, said a word quietly that Albus knew he wasn’t allowed to say and staggered backwards, crashing into the Christmas tree and causing it to tip sideways and knock over one of Lily’s paper chains.

“My decorations!” Lily wailed.

The camera flashed blindingly and captured the chaos in a photo forever. It took pride of place in the Potter photo album and it was Albus’ favourite family photo.

“Swish went the broomstick, meow went the cat, plop went the hop-toad sitting on her hat.”

Scorpius smiled as his mother sang softly while she brushed his blond hair. He was sitting still with his eyes closed, feeling as if he were at the height of relaxation; Scorpius loved it when Mummy brushed his hair. He was wearing his favourite pyjamas, which were patterned with baby dragons.

“Halloween night when the witches run.” Mummy kissed the top of his head lightly and he opened his eyes.

“Scorpy’s turn!” he cried in delight, spinning around and taking the hairbrush from Mummy. She pulled her dark hair over to one side and leaned towards him. Scorpius very gently brushed the tips of her hair as carefully as he could. “You’re so beautiful, Mummy.”

“You’re my beautiful, sweet son.” She beamed at him and Scorpius felt like a balloon was blowing up inside his heart.

“Daddy says you’re beautiful all the time,” Scorpius continued, still brushing her hair. “I think Daddy is beautiful too.”

“Did you hear that Draco?” Mummy called over to Daddy. “Scorpius thinks you’re beautiful.”

Daddy came over to join them and Scorpius immediately climbed onto his lap, reaching around the back of his neck and pulling his ponytail over one shoulder. He brushed it carefully, then sat back to admire the way his dad’s silvery hair glistened in the light.

“See? Beautiful,” he whispered.

“Thankyou, Scorpius,” Daddy laughed a little bit and then he wrapped his arms around Scorpius’ small, pyjama-clad body and kissed the top of his shiny hair. Scorpius leaned into him and sighed happily; there was nothing better than a Daddy hug, except maybe a Mummy hug, or a Daddy and Mummy hug.

“Are you going to be wearing your pyjamas for the photo, Scorpius?” Mummy tickled him under the chin and he sat up again, looking down at the dragons printed all over his chest. He glanced at both his parents, who were dressed elegantly, and shook his head.

“I suppose not,” he said with a giggle. “Can I wear my robes which are this colour?” He pointed to Mummy’s dress, which was a deep blue.

“I think that’s a marvellous idea,” she smiled and opened Scorpius’ wardrobe to find the robes.

When Scorpius was all dressed in his blue robes, they went downstairs to the big Christmas tree with the sparkling star on the top which Scorpius had put there. There was a man there with a big camera but Scorpius had to wait for ages for lots of talking to happen, and then he had to stand and wait for Mummy and Daddy to be ready by the Christmas tree.

“Place one hand on her shoulder,” the photographer commanded. “Stand further apart.”

Scorpius watched with interest while the photographer bossed his parents around and his Daddy looked the same as he did that time Scorpius found a bunny rabbit digging holes in the garden and tucked it into Mummy and Daddy’s bed as a surprise. He didn’t think this photographer was doing a very good job.

“Can’t I put my arm round her instead? This feels ridiculous.” Daddy was definitely not happy with the photographer.

“That’s not how I usually take these photos. Just last week, I took Christmas photos at the Goyles and they were very happy with my work.”

“No thank you,” Mummy said sharply; it was a voice Scorpius only ever heard her use when she was speaking to Grandfather Lucius.

“We’d rather not,” Daddy agreed.

“Scorpius, come here, darling.” Her voice was kind and soft again and Scorpius didn’t hesitate to obey her.

When he was within reach, she wrapped both arms around him and he felt so safe and warm in her embrace. Daddy had his arm around Mummy too and he wondered if Mummy felt just as content as he did. The photographer wasn’t very content, and he sighed in annoyance, before eventually picking up his camera.

“Child, stop smiling so much,” the photographer said, peering round the side of his camera.

Scorpius felt Mummy’s arms stiffen around him and his face fell. “Please don’t speak to my son like that,” she said calmly. “Scorpius has a lovely smile and I’d quite like it to be in the photograph if that’s quite alright with you.”

The photographer muttered something Scorpius couldn’t understand but which made Daddy stand up very straight and squeeze one of his hands like he was holding a wand that wasn’t there. “If this is going to be a problem, we will gladly take our business elsewhere.”

Scorpius didn’t know if he had a business, but if Daddy and Mummy were going to take their business somewhere else, he thought he should probably take his there too.

The photographer suddenly did a very thin-lipped smile which didn’t reach his eyes one bit. “Of course not, Mr Malfoy. No problems, only suggestions.”

Scorpius thought that the photographer sounded like he was pretending he’d eaten all his vegetables, when really he’d put some on Daddy’s plate when he wasn’t looking.

“Smile, Scorpius,” said Daddy, giving Scorpius’ shoulder a gentle squeeze. This was what he did when he was cross but he wanted Scorpius to know he wasn’t cross with him. Daddy was hardly ever cross with Scorpius because he was the best Daddy ever and Scorpius always tried so hard to be a good boy.

Spurred on by Daddy’s shoulder squeeze, Scorpius did the biggest smile he could, which wasn’t hard when he was in his favourite place: right in between Mummy and Daddy.

The camera flashed so brightly, it made Scorpius blink lots to try and get rid of the stars he could see under his eyes. They weren’t like the stars in the sky, which Scorpius had seen through the telescope and Daddy had shown him the star that was called Scorpius too. These starts hurt his eyes and made him want to hide his face in Mummy’s dress.

“Does it have to be that bright?” Mummy asked, and she looked like she was a bit worried about Scorpius.

The photographer nodded and did it again, this time making even more stars in Scorpius’ eyes. He wasn’t really enjoying this very much anymore and he reached into his pocket to give Chog (his favourite toy) a squeeze to make himself feel better. Mummy saw and she helped Scorpius pull Chog all the way out of his pocket so he was sitting on Scorpius’ lap.

“What is that? Remove it.” The photographer was looking at Chog too but not in the nice, kind way that Mummy was.

“Astoria, do you want to take Scorpius upstairs with you, maybe he can help you find our own camera? I think we’ve finished here.” Daddy was speaking very quietly, in a voice that Scorpius had never ever heard him speak in before and one which made him sound frightening, like Grandfather Lucius.

Scorpius held Mummy’s hand all the way back upstairs, even though he was five now and he didn’t always need to.

“Is Daddy cross with that man?” Scorpius whispered, because he knew Mummy would tell him the truth.

“Yes, I think he is. That man wasn’t very kind to you, was he?”

Scorpius considered her question and realised she was absolutely right. “He wasn’t kind! He was very, very unkind. And that is the worst thing you can be, isn’t it Mummy!”

Mummy always told Scorpius that being kind was the most important thing to be, because you could always turn sad to happy by showing kindness, whether it was you who was sad or somebody else. Being unkind would make you more sad, and it would make other people sad too, and Scorpius knew unkind was the worst thing to be.

“I think it is,” Mummy agreed with him.

“Was that man unkind to Daddy too?” Scorpius asked, feeling a bit confused. “Is that why he’s angry?”

“He was unkind to you, Scorpius, and that makes Daddy angry because Daddy loves you so much.”

Scorpius imagined loving somebody so much that he would feel angry if they had unkind things said to them. He thought of the people he loved the most: Mummy and Daddy. He’d never considered it before, but he thought that he would be angry if somebody was unkind to Mummy or Daddy.

Mummy opened an old-looking box and took out a camera, like the one which belonged to the unkind photographer. “We’re going to take our own photo, with this camera, where everybody is kind.”

“Geroff me Lily,” he complained, pushing his face deeper into his pillow.

“But James, you have to wake up! It’s snowed!”

“It’ll still have snowed in two hours, goodnight.” He sandwiched his head between two pillows and turned away from them. Lily shared a disappointed look with Albus.

“Fine, I’m gonna wake up Tebby!” She rushed from the room and directly into Harry, who was waiting on the landing.

“Don’t wake Teddy up, Lil,” he said kindly.

“Daddy! Did you know there’s snow?”

“I might have heard you mention it once, yes,” Harry replied, picking his daughter up.

“James won’t wake up and play with us,” she said glumly, resting her head on Harry’s shoulder. From the ground, Albus could see the sly grin she was showing over Harry’s shoulder and he rolled his eyes at his little sister.

“It is a bit early for your brothers.”

“Albus is awake,” Lily said confusedly. “He’s a brother.”

“Well, as we’re the only three up, we get to make the first footprints.”

“Yes!” Lily cried, heading straight for the stairs.

“Stop. Not in pyjamas, your mother will have my head.”

It didn’t take long for Lily, Albus and Harry to be bundled up in coats, boots, hats, scarves and gloves. Lily was wearing James’ Gryffindor hat, which was sure to cause problems when he woke up, but Harry decided to let it slide for now.

“You can go first, Lily. You’re the littlest.”

Her brother was trying to be kind, but Lily resented being referred to as little. Harry could clearly see the internal battle she was undergoing, torn between not wanting to admit she was the littlest but also wanting to be the first out in the snow.

“Same time!” she cried eventually, grabbing Albus’ hand and jumping from the doorstep into the blanket of snow covering the garden. Her blue wellies sank into the surface with a satisfying crunch right beside Albus’ orange pair. He grinned down at his sister and they both sprinted off as fast as they could in the thick snow.

By the time everyone else was up and dressed for the snow, Harry had cast several warming charms over his youngest two children, who refused to come inside and warm up properly. Harry didn’t blame them; this was the first time it had snowed properly where they lived since Lily was a baby.

Snow always reminded him of Hogwarts and fond memories of snowball fights with the Weasleys; building snowmen with only a little magic help; sending Trevor the toad skidding across the frozen lake surface. Now stood here watching his children experience the wonder snow provided was just as delightful.

Despite now being a first year at Hogwarts and often too grown up to play with his little brother and sister like he used to, James emerged with a pure and childlike joy on his face. He came running out into the garden, immediately gathering a handful of snow and firing it at Harry, who dutifully allowed it to hit him full in the face. James cheered and went to scoop up more.

Teddy was a seventh year and Ginny a fully grown adult and yet they too were laughing hysterically, snow flying everywhere. There was something about snow that turned anyone into a child again.

“I want to build a snowman!” Lily exclaimed after a while.

“Me too!” Albus agreed, immediately scrabbling at the ground to make a start.

“Everyone should build one! A best snowman competition!” Lily cried in excitement.

“Wait, that’s not fair because the grown-ups can use magic!” Albus protested.

Lily considered this for a second. “Okay, put your hand up if you can use magic.”

Harry, Ginny and Teddy exchanged amused looks and obediently put their hands up. James’ hand shot up too.

“Legally, James. You’re a first year.”

James scowled at Ginny’s comment.

“Mum, you can build a snowman with James, Al can build one with Daddy and I’m going to build one with Tebby,” Lily announced.

“Come on Lily-Lu, it’s on!” Teddy grabbed her hand and ran with her to the other side of the garden where an untouched pile of snow sat. “I have the best idea, listen to this.” He whispered into her ear and she looked gleeful.

“I want to go with Teddy,” Albus sulked and Harry folded his arms.

“You mean, you don’t want to hear about my competition-winning snowman design idea, Al?”

Albus brightened up and turned to his dad. “What design idea?”

Harry cast Ginny and James a furtive look. “I can’t tell you here, come and see.” He took Albus’ hand and lead him to the corner opposite Teddy and Lily, who made a big show of turning their backs secretly.

“We’re not letting anyone else win are we, Mum.” James stated defiantly.

“Not if I have anything to do with it.”

An hour later, three snowmen stood in the Potters’ garden and everybody was freezing, despite the warming charms Harry had cast on his children’s coats.

Teddy and Lily’s was the most decorated out of the three, wearing not only a conjured hat and scarf but also a waistcoat and bow tie, which Lily had decorated liberally with glitter Teddy summoned for her. Its smile was made out of frosty snail shells Lily had found under a watering can.

Ginny and James’ snowman was the biggest, and probably would have survived a snowstorm it was so sturdy. James had insisted on using his wand (to remind his siblings that he had a wand and they didn’t) as the nose and it stuck out comically, too long for the snowman’s face.

Harry and Al’s snowman was the tallest but it also looked in danger of falling over at any point, and was held up entirely by magic which Harry kept topping up worriedly. It was wearing a conjured top hat, had a traditional carrot nose and looked a bit like a muggle magician.

“How do we decide who won?” James asked, his teeth chattering.

“Let’s discuss that inside where it’s warm,” Ginny said with concern.

Once the children were all bundled up in front of the fire with hot chocolates, the question of picking the winning snowman came up again.

“I think me and Tebby should win ‘cause ours had the most glitter,” Lily explained very seriously.

James and Albus protested instantly.

“It’s not about who has the most glitter!”

“Glitter looks rubbish on a snowman!”

“Glitter does not look rubbish,” Teddy pretended to be cross with James for Lily’s benefit and she nodded fiercely beside him.

“Well me and Dad’s was the tallest, so we should win,” Albus replied, ignoring Teddy’s response about the glitter.

“No! Ours was nearly as tall anyway!” James complained.

Harry, Ginny and Teddy exchanged glances, all silently regretting turning this into a competition.

“Can’t we all be winners? I had so much fun, I feel like a winner,” Harry said in a jaunty tone.

All three of his children looked at him like he’d just announced he wanted to become a professional opera singer.

“Didn’t think that would work…” Harry tailed off.

“We need someone who didn’t take part to choose a winner,” Ginny said, causing Albus to look around the room as if there might be someone else there he hadn’t known about.

As he looked at the fireplace, the flames turned green and Ron’s head appeared in the flames.

“Uncle Ron!” Lily exclaimed.

“Oh, hello all of the Potters,” Ron was taken aback by the reception. “Harry, do you have a minute?”

“Absolutely, come through.”

As soon as Ron’s head disappeared again while he prepared to Floo in, Harry turned to his family. “We’ll ask Ron to pick a winner. Don’t worry Albus, he’ll definitely pick his best friend.”

Albus beamed at this news and James opened his mouth to protest again but she was drowned out by Lily, who scoffed loudly. “Please. Everyone knows I’m Uncle Ron’s favourite Potter! He’ll definitely pick me.”

“Maybe, to make things fairer, we shouldn’t tell him who built each snowman?” Ginny reasoned, sensing another argument.

Lily went to speak but stopped herself. James and Albus were silent too. “That seems fair,” she said, after a pause.

Ron spun into the room and dusted himself off, accepting Lily’s rather violent hug and picking her up into the air. “How’s my favourite Potter girl?”

“Feeling like I really like glit-”

“That’s cheating, Lily!” Albus interrupted her.

Ron looked between them bewildered, then over to Ginny.

“Ronald, dearest brother of mine, we were wondering if you would do us a quick favour while you’re here and judge our impromptu snowman competition.”

Ron blinked round at the six expectant faces. “I have to judge who’s built the best snowman out of you lot?”

“We were in teams,” James explained. “Me and Mum, Albus and Dad, Lily and Teddy.”

“Three snowmen, but we aren’t going to say who made which one.” Ginny added.

“Okay, I can do that.” Ron shrugged and allowed the children to lead him away into the garden where the three odd snowmen stood proudly. Harry quickly shot another strengthening charm at their snowman and Teddy definitely enlarged the bow tie on theirs.

“These are mad, you know that right?” Ron grinned at the Potters who shared proud looks. “But if I had to pick the maddest out of the lot, then it has to be this glittery one. That’s yours I’m guessing James?”

James missed the joke, scowled heavily and grumbled “no, I hate glitter,” stamping his foot into the snow.

“Then again, if we’re talking about the best building of a snowman, then this one has a clear height advantage. A lot of effort has gone into the height of that.” He surveyed Harry and Albus’ snowman.

“But I also have a bit of a soft spot for snowmen with wands for noses.” He poked at James’ wand where it was firmly stuck into the compacted snow.

“So who’s the winner?” Lily said impatiently. “You sort of said all three.”

“All three are the winners,” Ron beamed and Harry groaned as the children started to complain.

“Lily, consider this a lesson in never relying on a brother too much.”

Lily saluted her mother, laughing, which was a relief as she was easily the most competitive out of the three Potter children.

They trudged back inside, leaving the three winning snowmen stood proudly in the garden.

Harry spoke when they were back by the fireplace. “Now that’s sorted, what did you need, Ron?”

“But look! That thing,” he pointed to the projector on the ceiling, “is shining light so brightly, it’s making a picture on that wall!”

He was speaking in the tone of voice one would expect from a three-year-old explaining what they could see around them. A man in the row in front turned around and gave Arthur a strange look. Ginny smiled and patted her father’s shoulder.

“Dad, write it down instead.”

Arthur nodded and withdrew a small notebook and muggle pen from his pocket. It was his Muggle Observations book which Ginny had bought for him for moments just like this. He used it to write down everything he noticed which interested him so that he could discuss it at length with whoever would listen.

Molly tutted and shook her head at her husband, but Ginny saw her looking at the projector in interested disbelief.

Ginny always brought her parents to anything the kids did at school, not only because Arthur was ecstatic to be in the muggle primary school, but because Molly also took great delight in watching her grandchildren grow up. The Christmas nativity was a particular highlight for her, although Ginny and Harry were apprehensive about it this year.

If they could just get through the whole thing without Lily doing accidental magic (which happened when she was excited), they could breathe easily.

“Look, Gin.” Harry tapped her on the shoulder and pointed down at a page in the programme they’d been given on the way in. It read Ridge Oak Primary School Nativity 2014 on the front and contained several photographs inside.

The picture Harry was pointing at was of Lily’s year two class sat in rows and singing. Every child was sat with their legs crossed, singing sweetly, until the very end of the row where Lily was. She too sat with her legs crossed neatly, but wasn’t looking at the camera and had instead thrown her head back with the exuberance of her singing.

“Thank Merlin they didn’t give her a solo singing part,” Ginny grinned at her husband.

“I thought they did? She told me she was Angel Gabriel?” Harry looked confused and flicked to the cast list at the front of the programme. Next to the part of Angel Gabriel was the name of a girl in James’ class; definitely not Lily Potter.

“And you believed our six-year-old daughter?”

“How can you tell when she’s making things up?” Harry looked crestfallen.

“How can you not?” Ginny was laughing at her husband, who their daughter had firmly wrapped around her little finger.

“I think it’s starting,” Molly said, shushing them and settling to face the stage.

The lights in the school hall had dimmed and a spotlight shone down on a microphone to the side of the stage. A child stepped up to it and started to speak. Molly looked around agitatedly.

“Where’s James?” she hissed. “I thought he was the narrator.”

“There are a few narrators, Mum,” Ginny gently leant over her father to address her mother. Molly pursed her lips as if it wasn’t at all acceptable for anybody other than her grandchildren to be on the stage.

The narrator who wasn’t James finished speaking and the show started. To the side of the stage, Lily’s whole class could be seen sitting ready to sing.

While the children were all singing and Mary and Joseph wandered around the school hall on a hobby horse designed to look like a donkey, Lily spotted her parents in the audience. She didn’t stop singing but she waved enthusiastically, nearly poking the little boy next to her in the eye.

“Ironic that Lily was cast as an angel,” Ginny whispered into Harry’s ear as he watched her singing in her little angel costume. (A generic angel, not the lead role of Angel Gabriel she’d told Harry was hers.)

As they both watched their daughter sing, there was a moment when they both froze. Lily’s tinsel halo had started to levitate above her head, slowly rising up and away from her red hair. Their biggest worry was happening right in front of them.

“Is she… doing magic?” Harry hissed in horror as the halo rose higher. A child sat behind Lily had their eyes locked on in wonder.

“She’s excited about singing, oh Merlin make it stop!” Ginny kept her voice at a whisper but was internally panicking. The song went on and Lily’s halo was still hovering, completely disconnected from her head.

A few seats down from Lily was her teacher, Miss Emerson, who through a surprising turn of events, was well aware that the Potters were magical. She too had spotted Lily’s levitating halo and reached out to quickly grab it and lower it back down to Lily’s head. With the halo firmly held in place by her hand, Miss Emerson scanned the crowd for Harry and Ginny, shooting them a grin.

Ginny gave her a grateful look and Harry mouthed thank you across the hall.

“That was a close one,” Ginny muttered, keeping her eyes firmly locked on Lily.

The song finished and everybody clapped. James stepped up to the microphone and sought his parents out in the audience. He caught Harry’s eye and grinned widely, pressing his lips just a bit too close to the microphone and creating a muffled sound.

“Mary and Joseph travelled many miles to Bethlehem on a donkey,” he spoke confidently, as if he were announcing the lineup of a show.

“Look at Albus,” Ginny whispered and pointed out their second son to the side of the stage, dressed as a shepherd and holding a toy sheep. He was sat with the other shepherds in what was supposed to be a freeze frame, except Albus’ lips were moving as he mouthed all of James’ words along with him. Harry grinned at her and shook his head fondly.

“They needed to find somewhere to stay, so they asked some innkeepers if there was room.”

“What is he doing with his hands?” Arthur asked from Ginny’s other side.

“Signing. There are two hard of hearing children in this school.” Arthur nodded and looked back at James, who was continuing to tell the story of Mary and Joseph being turned away by the innkeepers.

“A kind innkeeper let them stay in his stable, because he had no room.” James smiled around and stepped down from the microphone and back into his space next to the other narrators.

“Look, an angel!” Albus delivered his line perfectly, which was no surprise considering he’d practised it every night at the dinner table between mouthfuls. The child who had actually been cast as the Angel Gabriel started to walk onto the stage.

There was a silent pause.

The girl beside Albus was staring at him with wide eyes. Albus looked at her pointedly. Nothing happened.

Over to the side of the stage, Miss Emerson was holding a script and watching the girl on the stage, looking like she was ready to jump in with the line any second.

Albus whispered something to the girl and her expression cleared. “Something terrible must have happened!” the girl exclaimed, spoiling the sentiment slightly by smiling at Albus.

The children all started to sing While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks By Night and thankfully, Lily didn’t seem to be as excited by this song and kept the accidental magic under control from what Harry and Ginny could see.

“Look, its James again!” Molly whispered unnecessarily loudly. “Arthur, get the camera out again.”

Ginny pointedly avoided the confused stares of the people further down the row who had been taking photos of their children on a mobile phone, and were eyeing the large and old-fashioned looking (secretly magic) camera with fascination.

James confidently approached the microphone and told the audience how three wise men from the east followed a star to find the baby Jesus. There was more singing as children dressed as wise men walked through the middle of the audience, following another child holding up a big, silver star. The star was handed to James, who held it up proudly to say his next line.

“Jesus was born, and angels sent from heaven surrounded the stable.”

Lily’s class filed neatly onto the stage and Harry waved at their daughter, who gave him a big smile but also an expression that made it clear she was far too professional to wave back now she was on stage. There was another song, which Lily sang enthusiastically and Harry and Ginny crossed their fingers tightly throughout.

The song came to an end, and James went to speak again, but as he did, the star he was holding began to sparkle and glow as if it were alive with fairy dust. James stared at it in surprise, indicating he wasn’t aware this was going to happen. Similarly, a teacher behind him was rubbing the lenses of his glasses and staring in disbelief at the ethereal star.

“What amazing special effects!” somebody in the row behind commented.

Ginny took one look at Lily’s beam and shining eyes and she slid as far down in her seat as was socially acceptable. Harry had his head in one hand, an anguished look on his face.

James, while still blown away by the object in his hand, continued to say his lines, sounding only a little bit uncertain. Albus was looking between the star and his little sister, having worked out what was going on. He nudged Lily lightly and she turned around to smile at him too. He mouthed stop at her but she didn’t seem to understand him.

Albus’ intervention seemed to have distracted Lily enough that the star’s glow slowly diminished. Ginny was more than relieved, as she’d been having visions of the star beginning to levitate away from James.

The nativity came to an end and everyone clapped until the hall became a bustle of chatting parents and teachers. Nearly everyone was commenting on the ‘impressive finale’, and even Molly and Arthur hadn’t instantly recognised it had been their granddaughter’s accidental magic. When they did, they were smiling proudly.

“Well done my babies,” Ginny stood up to receive James and Albus, who had reached them first. They allowed her to hug them both, even though James groaned at being called a baby.

“Did you see what Lil did?” Albus asked breathlessly. “Will she be in trouble? I don’t think she did it on purpose.”

“Oh! That was Lily!” A look of understanding passed over James’ face and he shrugged. “It was cool.”

“She’s not in trouble, it was an accident. Just unfortunate timing,” Ginny muttered to reassure Albus as Lily came running over to them, throwing herself into Harry’s arms.

“I did it, Daddy! I was an angel.” Harry picked her up.

“Was that very exciting, being on stage?” he asked his daughter.

“Oh yes!” Lily’s eyes were shining.

“We all noticed how excited Lily was,” Ginny said fondly, looking around at her family who were gazing at Lily in amusement.

“You dropped your halo, Lily.” Miss Emerson appeared at Harry’s shoulder to reunite Lily with her halo. She smiled round at the family. “That certainly livened things up. I’ll put Lily on props next year.” She winked and left them to greet some other parents.

The one thing Draco wasn’t counting on though, was how much more of a big deal he was supposed to make over every tiny thing that happened to Scorpius. Since the twenty-fourth of October, everything was so much more meaningful because it was Scorpius’ first of everything.

Scorpius’ first night at home, Scorpius’ first bath, Scorpius’ first outing, Scorpius’ first Friday, Scorpius’ first rain. The most mundane things became important when they were Scorpius’ first time experiencing them.

Astoria wanted Scorpius’ first Christmas to be perfect. It didn’t matter that he was only two months old and wouldn’t remember it one bit, which Draco refrained from pointing out. He found himself quite powerless to protest against anything if it was something Astoria wanted.

They decorated the manor more meticulously than they had for any of the other three Christmases they’d lived there as a married couple, even though it would only be the three of them there to enjoy it after they managed to get out of hosting Draco’s parents, who were actually staying with the Greengrass family while they were in England.

Draco thought maybe he should be offended by this, but it was quite perfect that their families got on so well, better in fact that than their families got on with them. Astoria’s parents were of similar ideals to his own, and they’d bonded over a shared dislike of how Draco and Astoria had chosen to raise their son outside of the traditional pureblood realms. They avoided spending time with each other usually, but Christmas forced them together.

They’d endured a stiff and awkward, painfully formal Christmas dinner at Astoria’s family home, during which Scorpius had been appraised judgingly by everybody. Astoria’s father claimed he seemed too small and Lucius curled his lip at the pale yellow outfit Draco had dressed him in.“It should be green, he’s a Malfoy heir. Do you want him to end up in Hufflepuff?” Astoria opened her mouth to politely dispute this and Narcissa quickly jumped in with a loud comment about how much Scorpius looked like Draco did as a baby to diffuse the moment.

Eventually, finally, five painful courses later - and no fewer than four suggestions from Lucius that they leave Scorpius upstairs where a house-elf could look after him, instead of having him at the table with them (He’s two months old, Lucius, and he’s our baby.) - it was over. They were back at the manor, at home as a family.

The living room was a winter wonderland and beside the large Christmas tree, Scorpius was lying on his back in a bassinet, his tiny amount of white-blond hair, like the fuzzy seeds of a dandelion, sticking up from his head where he’d been sleeping. He was gazing with interest at his parents, making tiny snuffling noises and wriggling around.

“And this one is from Auntie Daphne,” Astoria told their son, holding a present up in front of him as if he could understand. “Would you like to open it?”

“That looks means yes Mummy but unfortunately I’ve not developed full use of my thumbs yet,” Draco explained and Astoria laughed at him.

“Shall we ask Daddy to open it for you?” she continued, handing Draco the present, picking Scorpius up gently and cradling him in her arms. He kicked his legs and arms in excitement. “That look means hurry up and open it, Daddy.”

Draco rolled his eyes and undid the wrapping paper, removing a grey, stuffed animal and holding it up in front of Scorpius. He stared at it with his clear, grey-blue eyes.

Astoria took it from him and inspected it. “Oh, it’s an owl, how sweet.”

Draco looked at her like she was mad. “I thought it was a mouse? Look at its ears.”

“It has wings, honey. See?” Astoria turned the creature round, still holding Scorpius in one arm, and indicated what vaguely resembled wings.

Draco shook his head. “No owl has paws.”

“It has a beak!”

“It has whiskers!”

“What in Merlin’s name is it?”

They were stopped by a sudden gurgle from their baby. He was staring at the toy, eyes wide, and his hand extended out towards it. Astoria moved it closer to his outreached hand and he grasped at thin air a couple of times before successfully gripping onto the toy and pulling it towards him, where he promptly stuffed it into his mouth.

“Apparently Scorpius likes ambiguous crossover owl-mouse creatures,” said Draco dryly.

“He reached out for it! He’s never reached out for anything before.” Astoria sounded overjoyed.

“I’ll alert the minister at once,” Draco said sarcastically.

“You’re so clever Scorpius, reaching out and grabbing onto things all by yourself.” She tickled him and he squealed in delight.

“He grabs onto my hair all the time,” Draco muttered, massaging the back of his head where Scorpius had previously wrenched at his ponytail.

“I told you that would happen before he was born,” his wife said to him, although she was looking at Scorpius as she spoke and tickling him under the chin with the owl-mouse.

Draco watched her with a smile. “Yes, but you still wouldn’t let me cut it off.”

Astoria looked up, offended. “Never! I love it too much.”

She adjusted Scorpius so he was upright and leaning against her chest, where he attempted to gnaw on her shoulder. The hand that wasn’t holding their baby in place came up to smooth Draco’s hair back from his forehead and towards his immaculate ponytail, which she curled around her fingertips. He wrapped an arm around her waist and she rested her head on his shoulder, Scorpius gurgled happily between them.

“This is the part of Christmas I was looking forward to the most,” Draco murmured and kissed the top of her head.

“Just us, our family,” she whispered back.

“I have one more present for you.” As Draco spoke, Astoria lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him in question.

“You do?”

Draco nodded. “It’s in here.”

He lead her into the hallway where they had a second, smaller Christmas tree in the alcove beneath the grand staircase. Under the tree was one, small gift, wrapped in silver paper. Draco gently took Scorpius from her, tucking him into his chest and kissing his fluffy head.

Astoria curiously picked up the present, giving Draco a look of confusion. After all, they’d exchanged presents hours ago over breakfast.

“I probably should have given it to you sooner,” Draco said apologetically, even though this meant nothing to Astoria because she hadn’t opened it yet. “Go on, open it.”

Scorpius was babbling excitedly over Draco’s shoulder as if he knew what was inside the present. Astoria unwrapped it carefully and removed a tree ornament by its silver ribbon. She examined the ornament and looked up at Draco, clutching the present to her heart.

“You didn’t?” she gasped and Draco nodded at her. “I thought you hated things like this.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “I don’t hate things like that. We’ve never even discussed getting one of those.”

“Because I knew you would think it was stupid,” she said, a huge grin on her face.

Draco shook his head. “It’s not stupid. Do you like it?”

“Draco, I love it.” She caught his face in her hands and kissed him sweetly. He hugged her to him, one arm supporting Scorpius and the other around his wife.

“I love you,” he said softly.

“And I love you,” she breathed into his shoulder before suddenly pulling away. “Scorpius, no baby. Don’t eat Daddy’s hair.”

Somewhere behind his head, Astoria was dislodging a section of his ponytail from Scorpius’ grip (which was surprisingly strong) and patting it back into place.

When his hair was free, Draco lifted Scorpius up and held him in front of his face. The baby kicked his legs out with a smile. “Why do you always have to go for the hair?”

He kissed Scorpius on the nose, making him laugh, and turned him around, holding him against his stomach with one hand underneath him so he could watch his mother place the ornament on the tree. She smiled at Draco and their baby and hung it carefully on an empty branch, tapping it with her finger so it gently span. Draco watched it slowly revolve, as did Astoria, and Scorpius waved his arms about, his fists clenched.

Ginny had a brilliant afternoon shopping for wool with Luna, baby Lily attached to her front and a promise from Harry, who was looking after the boys, to take as long as she needed and to bring Luna home for dinner. They visited the strangest little shop in Diagon Alley which seemed to be simultaneously a haberdashery and a book shop, but also sold plants and served different types of tea. It was sort of as if Luna had been personified into a shop.

“How many balls of wool do you need for one scarf?” Ginny asked her friend curiously, picking up one in a particular gaudy shade of yellow.

Luna looked blank. “As many as it takes.”

“I thought you could knit, Lu?” Ginny looked down to see that Lily had fallen asleep.

Luna shook her head. “Oh no, but I’d love to learn with you!”

Ginny rolled her eyes at her friend, who had definitely given the impression she knew how to knit. She reached for four balls of the bright yellow. “I think that looks about right for one scarf.”

“How many scarves are you making?” Luna asked, running her fingertips over a fluffy, blue wool.

She held her hand out to count on her fingers. “Let’s see: five brothers, plus Harry, Hermione, Angelina, Audrey and Fleur, Mum and Dad, seven nieces and nephews, three children, one Teddy.” Ginny was left with three fingers held up and a pensive expression on her face. “So that's… twenty-three? Blimey, that’s quite a lot really.”

Luna didn’t look as worried as Ginny suddenly felt at the prospect of knitting twenty-three scarves when she didn’t even know how to knit yet.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

The shop owner looked amused at Ginny’s purchase of forty-six balls of wool (she had advised Ginny that four per scarf would be far too much). But Ginny was pleased with her bag stuffed full of wool, with a few pairs of knitting needles thrown into the top.

After dinner that night, when she and Harry had put the children to bed and she’d read Al a total of four different stories before he was ready to sleep, she sat cross legged on the living room floor and excitedly tipped the balls of wool out onto the floor.

“Wow,” said Harry. “That is a lot of wool.”

“Isn’t it great?” Ginny gushed, pulling a ball of orange wool towards her and unwrapping it. “I’m making Ron’s first, in Cannons colours.”

With the instruction sheet the shop owner had given her and the knitting needles in one hand, Ginny unravelled a length of wool.

“Isn’t there a spell for this?” Harry watched her uncertainly.

Ginny waved a hand at him nonchalantly. “I don’t need that, I’m sure it’ll be much quicker this way.”

Forty-five minutes later, Ginny was lying face down on the living room floor, a twisted knot of orange wool tangled around one of the needles.

“How’s it going, love?” Harry cautiously re-entered the room (he’d left to check the children were still asleep through all the swearing).

Ginny raised her head and looked at him forlornly. “Shit.”

“Is this Ron’s scarf?” Harry asked uncertainly, picking up the little twist of orange wool which was barely the length of his hand. He forced back a laugh which Ginny noticed and she sat up and back on her heels, taking it from him. She balanced it across her collarbones as if she were wearing it as a scarf.

“Yes, do you think he’ll like it?” Harry snorted and she was laughing before she could think about it, Harry joining in with her.

“Is that spell looking tempting yet?” Harry asked.

“No, I want to do it by hand like Mum does! I think maybe I just need someone to show me how to do it, instead of just following these instructions.” She picked up the sheet of parchment and dropped it again, letting it flutter to the ground lamely.

“You should ask Hermione, she can knit,” Harry mused.

“Good idea, I’ll Floo her in the morning,” Ginny stood up, cramming all her knitting supplies back into the bag and tucking them into the corner away from Al’s toddler toys. She yawned widely and took hold of Harry’s hand as she left the room, pulling him upstairs with her.

“You know, everyone will still love your scarves if you use a spell,” he said gently, in a whisper as they got nearer to the children’s rooms. She kissed him on the cheek and smiled.

It was the next morning and Hermione had responded to Ginny’s Floo by popping round with baby Hugo. She stared at Ginny in a mix of horror and amusement. “Let me get this straight, you want me to show you how to knit so you can make twenty-three scarves in time for Christmas Day next week?”

Ginny nodded eagerly. “Don’t tell anyone else though, it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“Ginny, do you know how long it’ll take you to make one scarf?”

“An hour?” Ginny estimated.

“It took me over an hour to make each tiny elf hat back in school,” Hermione explained gently.

Ginny cast around for a solution, her vision of her family all opening a handmade scarf on Christmas Day at the forefront of her mind. Her eyes fell on Lily and Hugo who were respectively sitting and lying on a blanket on the floor.

“Okay, let’s see. Lily and Hugo are babies, babies don’t need scarves.” She nodded reasonably, trying to encourage Hermione to join in. “I suppose I can make ones for James and Al in the new year. We’ve got them enough presents.  And Harry come to think of it. So that brings it down to only eighteen.”

“Eighteen?” Hermione caught herself and held her hands up. “Okay, fine, I’ll show you how to do it.”

Twenty minutes later, Ginny was slowly but surely weaving the orange wool together after Hermione had cast on for her. “Oh shit, I dropped another stitch.”

Hermione sighed and fixed the knitting, handing the needles back to Ginny. “Keep going.”

She got the hang of the rows, occasionally handing them carefully over to Hermione so she could pick Lily up and jiggle her around for a second or feed her when she started to fuss.

“Is it long enough yet?” she asked every few minutes, holding up her creation.

After working on Ron’s scarf for three hours and being left with a lumpy patch no longer than four inches, Ginny started to suspect she’d been a bit ambitious.

“Is there a spell I can use?” she asked with the air of someone who hasn’t quite given up but might very soon.

Hermione shook her head sadly. “You can enchant needles to copy your patterns and knit by themselves, so you could recreate this as many times as you wanted.” Hermione held up the scarf attempt that might have possibly been useful as a blanket for a fairy. “But there’s no spell to knit for you. Believe me, I looked for one in my fourth year.”

“Someone should really get on inventing one of those,” Ginny muttered, holding the ‘scarf’ in defeat.

Christmas Day rolled around a week later, and Ginny had wrapped her presents neatly, parcelling them up with the generous batches of his famous shortbread biscuits Harry had baked for everybody’s Christmas gift. They sat waiting under the Christmas tree at The Burrow and Ginny was excited for her family to open them.

“You should all open them at the same time,” Ginny explained, distributing the gifts to her family members. She watched excitedly as they all began to tear into the paper, expressing excitement at Harry’s famous baking.

“Merlin, Rosie, give that back please, sweetheart.” Ron was the first to reach his present from Ginny and it was unceremoniously snatched away by his three-year-old daughter.

As Ron reclaimed the present from Rose, everyone else reached the inside of their own parcel.

George was the first to open his, holding up a pair of knitting needles and two balls of purple wool, tied together with a handwritten label. All around the room, her siblings were holding up identical gifts with grins on their faces.

“Yuck, no! That’s a girl decoration,” Albus said and he physically backed away from the contents of James’ hand.

“There’s no such thing as boy and girl decorations, we’ve talked about this.” Ginny sighed. “Anyway, you love glitter, Al.”

Albus gave her a sulky look and Ginny suspected the rejection of the pixie decoration had all been an attempt to impress his big brother - Albus completely idolised James.

“Hey! Give Pixie to me,” Lily commanded as she scrambled up from the floor and grabbed the decoration, showering James with glitter in the process.

“Lily!” James shouted angrily as he brushed his hair of glitter.

“Don’t fight over the decorations guys. There’s plenty in there for all of you,” Ginny told them. Albus was still sulking so she stood up and made her way to the decorations box, inspecting its contents.

“How about this one, Al?” she asked after a minute of searching. It was a bright red dragon decoration that breathed harmless, small flames when hung on the tree.

“Yeah!” Albus cried enthusiastically, bounding over to his mother and gently taking the dragon from her hand. “I love dragons.”

“I don’t…” Harry muttered from where he had finally managed to open the box.

James’ face fell. “Oh but I wanted that one too! That’s from Uncle Charlie isn’t it?” He swung the hippogriff from his finger, giving it an evil look.

“James, Hippy is from Uncle Charlie as well,” Lily responded exasperatedly whilst bouncing around Harry and urging him to get the Christmas tree out.

Hippy. Why did Lily insist on giving all the Christmas tree decorations names? James found it incredibly annoying.

“Hippy the Hippogriff? That’s a stupid name. This is my decoration and I say he doesn’t have a name,” he commanded maturely.

“Here it is,” Harry announced as he stood back to show a large, green, artificial tree laying on the ground. They used to always have a real Christmas tree in the house until three Christmases ago when they discovered that James, who was six at the time, was allergic to them. The poor boy had spent most of Christmas day dosed up on Sneezing Potion before they’d worked out what the problem was.

Lily was looking at the tree in awe, still clutching her pixie decoration. “How does it go up?” she asked loudly. Everyone turned to look at Harry.

“That’s simple. Constructo!” He pointed his wand at the tree which was lying on the floor forlornly. Nothing happened.

“I’m not Hermione or anything, but I don’t think that spell is designed to work on muggle Christmas trees,” Ginny said laughing and the children looked between them with disappointed faces.

“Ok then, you try,” Harry joked, passing her her own wand.

“Ok, I will.” Ginny gave him a cheeky grin and replaced her wand onto the table where it had previously resided. She approached the dismantled tree and considered the pieces for a second before selecting one and snapping it into the base unit.

Harry watched with an annoyed look on his face as she placed the remaining section of the tree on top so the two clicked together and stood back to reveal a towering, perfect Christmas tree.

“Cool,” said Albus.

“Yay, Mummy!” Lily applauded.

“Sometimes the Muggle way is the easiest way,” Ginny said casually, feeling very proud of herself.

“Well I could’ve done that…” Harry muttered.

“Decoration time!” Lily cried and she ran forward to hang her beloved pixie on one of the branches.

“No Lily, we’re not having your stupid girly decorations on the tree. Cool ones only.” James ordered, replacing the pixie with his own hippogriff and throwing the pixie to the ground in a cloud of disappearing glitter.

“James,” Ginny reprimanded in a warning tone from where she was opening a box of baubles decorated with different Quidditch designs. “If you can’t be nice to your sister, you won’t get to join in.”

“Mine’s cool!” Albus stated as he too ran towards the Christmas tree and proudly placed the dragon on a branch.

“Pixie is cool,” Lily told him stubbornly, her eyes filling up with tears. “Why can’t she be on the tree? It’s not fair, Daddy.” Lily picked up the pixie and ran to Harry, sniffing miserably.

“James, let your sister put her decorations on too. It’s everyone’s Christmas tree.” Lily brightened up immediately as she replaced Pixie onto the tree.

“I’ve taught her well,” Ginny muttered to Harry, nodding her head to Lily who was happily picking out the pinkest, most sparkly and girly decorations she could find and deliberately putting them next to wherever James put his own decorations.

“You fell for the fake tears too,” she added mischievously to Harry who looked shocked.

“They were fake? How do you know?” he asked her.

“Harry, I grew up with six brothers. I know everything about being a little sister. She used the Daddy card too.”

“Daddy card? She always calls me Daddy.”

“She’s got you right here,” Ginny said, twirling her little finger around.

Harry scoffed. “That is just not true. Anyway, you’re hardly one to talk.”

Ginny put her hands on her hips and surveyed him as Lily dived between her legs for a stray decoration. “Meaning?”

“You can’t say no to Al,” Harry said smugly. They both watched as their younger son demurely placed a decoration on the tree, ignoring his siblings who were squabbling over who would get to put the angel on the top of the tree. His dark hair was on the neater side for once and his green eyes were alive with excitement.

“Look at him, he’s you in miniature. He’s adorable.” Ginny walked over and pulled Albus in for a quick hug. He was startled, a decoration still in his hand, but he hugged her back.

“That’s exactly what it’s like with Lily,” Harry muttered, watching his red-haired daughter twirl around on the spot, making her dress fly out around her.

“It’s finished!” she cried, running at Harry and requiring him to employ his Auror reflexes rather quickly to protect himself from injury. Instead, he caught her and lifted her up into the air where she screamed in delight.

“Is it time for the fairy lights?” Albus asked excitedly.

“Fairy lights, fairy lights!” Lily squirmed to be put down.

Harry withdrew a large jar from beside the fireplace which contained several golden fairies, happily whizzing about. They’d purchased them from Diagon Alley just that morning and Lily had already named them all.

With the jar open, Lily was able to gently lower her hand inside and she squealed with delight as five fairies climbed onto the palm of her hand and she withdrew it. She rested her hand open on a branch of the tree and the fairies fluttered from her hand, nestling into the branches where they glowed prettily.

“Al?” Harry offered the jar to his son, who also collected and released a small handful of fairies onto the tree. One of the fairies fluttered to land on his shoulder instead of the tree and he smiled at it.

“Jamesy?” James scowled at his father’s use of his childish nickname (which James had given himself when he first learnt to talk). “Sorry, James.”

James was reluctant to scoop any of the fairies from the jar.

“Shall we give your turn to Lily?” Ginny asked with a knowing smile.

“No! I want to do it,” James cried, rushing forward to retrieve his own handful of fairies. They too found places on the tree and the whole thing was flashing and twinkling.

There were enough fairies for the children to each have one more turn and James’ sulkiness had evaporated by the time the jar was empty. The fairy on Albus’ shoulder whizzed from her perch to the tree to join her sisters, leaving a little cloud of fairy dust all over Al’s dark hair. Harry absent-mindedly went to brush it away and Albus smiled up at his dad.

Ginny placed the angel on the top of the tree to avoid any arguments and the Potters stood back to admire their Christmas tree. The bottom two thirds were a mess of random clusters of decorations where Lily had put all of hers right next to James’ choices. Glitter from the pixie coated everything and would last for twelve hours before disappearing and the top third was more or less bare where the children couldn’t reach it.

James, Al and Lily looked delighted. Harry and Ginny exchanged looks.

“Well done, kids. I think it’s our best one yet!” Harry said convincingly.

“Redecorate after they’ve gone to bed?” Ginny muttered into his ear.