Harry Potter: Raised by Wolves.

The bottom of the gold frame was engraved with the words 'Harry's First Yule'.

It took a minute for Harry to remember how to breathe.

"You alright there, mate?" Ron asked, his mouth half-full of homemade nut brittle, shreds of wrapping paper scattered all around him. Harry shoved the picture under his pillow, offering a false grin.

"Yeah." He reached for the next present on auto-pilot, not wanting Ron to investigate further.

He was surprised to find a book, titled 'The Wizengamot And You: The Wizarding Legal System Explained'. There was a note attached to the front of it.

Hi Harry,

This is from both me and Gran. She said it's the best book out there for learning about all this sort of stuff. I hope it helps. Merry Christmas!

- Neville

And below that;

Dear Mr Potter,

I'm glad to hear from my grandson that you're finally learning about your place in our world. I have to say, it doesn't surprise me that it was kept from you until now.

I hope this book is of assistance; please don't hesitate to contact me if you have any further questions. Well met, and happy Yule.

Lady Augusta Longbottom

P.S. If you get the chance this summer, I would recommend going to Gringotts and checking your family vault for a book on traditions and magics specific to House Potter. Every family should have one. If you are in need of an adult to escort you, I would be happy to do so.

Again, Harry quickly hid the book and the note from Ron's curious gaze, but a smile tugged at his lips. He was glad now for the Herbology book he'd sent Neville, unsure if they were at the level of friendship to be exchanging Christmas gifts.

Those seemed to be the only unexpected gifts in the pile — at least, until he reached the long, narrow package at the very bottom. His heart clenched at the telltale shape. "Mate!" Ron breathed, barging over and reaching to tear the wrapping paper.

A Firebolt.

This Christmas was just full of surprises.

.-.-.-. With his spirits high from his pile of gifts, Harry was caught almost entirely off-guard as his name was called. He was having a rare moment alone — with Hermione in the library and Ron kidnapped by the twins — and enjoying taking his time wandering down to Christmas lunch, turning his thoughts over in his mind. At least, until he was stopped, and his heart sank.

"Harry, my boy!" Dumbledore's fond call rang through the stone corridor. Harry froze, turning on his heel. The headmaster was dressed in festive robes and smiling widely, oblivious to the nausea rolling in his student's stomach.

Don't look him in the eye, Harry thought to himself desperately, plastering a smile on his face and fixing his gaze somewhere over Dumbledore's left shoulder. "Hello, sir!" he greeted cheerfully, trying to think how he might have acted before the compulsion was removed. Trusting, impulsive, thoughtless. He could do that. Maybe.

"Not spending the day with your friends?" Dumbledore asked, brows furrowing. Harry shrugged.

"Hermione's finishing an essay. Ron's with his siblings, I didn't want to interrupt."

The reminder of Harry's lack of family turned the headmaster's face sad and pitying in a way that made Harry itch with anger. Perhaps the old man was aiming for empathy, but he missed by a mile. "Ah, of course. Well, you should still be careful, my boy — these days are not the best to be spending time alone. It is hard to protect you if we don't know where you are." His voice was gently scolding, and Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Did he really think Sirius Black would try anything in the middle of the day?

"I'm sorry, sir," he said instead, plastering a contrite frown on his face. "I suppose I didn't think about that. I was just on my way to the great hall for lunch."

"Not to worry, not to worry; I found you, after all," Dumbledore replied with a chuckle. He began to walk, gesturing for Harry to accompany him. "I hear you've been keeping yourself busy over the holidays, my boy. The Patronus charm is a rather tricky bit of magic — I'm quite impressed to see you attempting it. I must admit, I didn't expect for Professor Lupin to offer; with his health the way he is, he tends to value the time he has to rest."

The old wizard's face was friendly, and Harry knew he would've fallen for it easily six months ago. His stomach churned again — did Dumbledore disapprove of Harry learning the charm? Why? Surely any defence he had against dementors was a good thing!

"I— I told him what I hear when a dementor comes close," Harry admitted, carefully choosing his words. He didn't want Dumbledore to think he was hiding anything. "It's… I told him I couldn't listen to my mum dying over and over. Begged him to teach me." He tried not to meet twinkling blue eyes as they surveyed him, trying to clear his mind. "He— he said he was feeling alright, but if he's not wellif I should stop— I… I suppose I can handle it, sir." Poor, brave, orphan Harry Potter. Exactly what far too many people expected to see, but easy enough to give it to them when it suited him.

"Of course not, dear boy. If Professor Lupin believes he is well enough to teach you, then by all means, learn what you can. I can only imagine how difficult it must be to suffer through such a thing." Dumbledore paused, as if in thought. "I suppose mentioning your mother's death would make him keen to see you avoid such heartbreak."

Harry knew what the man was fishing for, and stifled furrowed in understand?"

a scowl confusion.

behind "Sir,

I

brows don't

"Did the professor not tell you that he and your parents went to school together?" Dumbledore sounded genuinely surprised. Internally, Harry smirked. Let him think that Harry was still in the dark, oblivious to the family he'd been kept from all this years. Let him think Harry didn't know the truth about Sirius Black.

"He said he knew them," Harry replied. "He never said… were they friends?"

"Indeed they were, my boy," Dumbledore told him. For the briefest moment, Harry thought he saw a pleased look flash across the headmaster's features. "They were all in Gryffindor together. But if Professor Lupin has not mentioned it, perhaps it's best not to bring it up. Grief can do awful things to a man, Harry. You won't want to disturb it once it's settled." He sounded sad, shaking his head with a small sigh.

Beside him, Harry nodded along obediently, while inside he seethed. Imagine if he had never broken the compulsion; he would have allowed Dumbledore to lead him by the nose away from Remus Lupin and all that he entailed — all the memories he could share with Harry, all the support he could offer, everything.

Dumbledore wanted Harry alone. He wanted him with no one to rely on — save those Dumbledore had picked himself. The thought made him uneasy; who in his life could he trust, and who was only there to be another player in the headmaster's game?

More importantly, why? What was so special about Harry, that the man had started playing the game so early in his life?

.-.-.-.

Scowling to himself, Severus started the journey back to his quarters, shaking his head at Sybil Trelawney's ridiculous declaration. Why Albus insisted he attend the small Christmas lunch, Severus didn't know; he would have much preferred dining in his own rooms, alone. The only person in the Great Hall he even remotely enjoyed the company of was Minerva. Especially with Lupin—

He shut that thought down before it could finish itself. He refused to think about Remus bloody Lupin at Christmas. It was bad enough remembering the sad, regretful look in those honey-brown eyes when he'd realised the full moon was Christmas Eve night, and he'd be missing out on all the festivities.