Harry Potter : Cael Vale’s journey to Hogwarts

December 25th arrived with a stillness that only snow could bring, dusting rooftops and quieting the world in a soft white hush. Inside the warm, cozy sitting room of the Potter residence, a large Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner, its enchanted ornaments blinking with soft lights, humming gentle carols under their breath.

Harry sat cross-legged in his pajamas at the base of the tree, unwrapping the last of his Christmas presents. The pile around him included a familiar handmade jumper from Mrs. Weasley—emerald green this year, with a bold H stitched on the front.

He smiled softly, running a hand over the thick wool. A note from Ron was tucked in the sleeve:

Mum insisted. I told her to make it extra warm since Hogwarts is basically an ice cave right now. Merry Christmas, mate — Ron.

Hermione's gift was next—a well-wrapped book titled A Century of Quidditch Strategies, annotated with tiny sticky notes in the margins. Her neat handwriting peeked from the front page: "To Harry — maybe this will help you keep up with the Cannons' mess. Happy Christmas — Hermione."

Fred and George, as expected, had sent him a box packed with their latest joke prototypes: self-inflating wigs, a fake tongue that turned blue for an hour, and something suspiciously labeled "Emergency Exploding Socks — open with caution!"

Harry chuckled to himself as he reached for the last gift. The tag read:

To Harry — Merry Christmas. Always carry this with you. Trust me. — Cael V.

Inside was a sleek black Muggle pen. Harry frowned at first—until he noticed the folded parchment tucked beside it. Unfolding it, he read:

I've enchanted this with protective runes. It's discreet, easy to carry, and will shield you once against a strong spell—though not an Unforgivable. Be smart with it. Keep it close. Happy Christmas — Cael.

Harry turned the pen in his fingers, now noticing the faint shimmer of old magic etched along the barrel. His smile deepened. "Always thinking ahead," he muttered.

Just then, footsteps came from the stairs behind him. James Potter entered, dressed in his usual weekend robes, with his daughter—Harry's younger half-sister—trailing behind him. Lyra rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she made her way to the tree.

"Merry Christmas, Harry," James said with a soft smile, settling into the nearby armchair.

Harry looked up. "Merry Christmas," he replied, returning the smile.

He turned to Lyra. "Merry Christmas, Lyra."

She paused, her eyes flicking toward him uncertainly. After a few seconds of hesitation, she huffed quietly and turned her face away. Then, barely audible, she whispered, "Merry Christmas…"

James glanced at her, clearly surprised but pleased, and his smile widened. From the kitchen, a delicious smell wafted in—eggs, cinnamon, freshly baked bread—and a moment later, Elena Potter, James's wife, entered carrying a tray.

"Merry Christmas, everyone," she said warmly.

Harry looked up, his voice polite but cool. "Merry Christmas," he replied.

They all gathered at the breakfast table as the food was served. James poured himself some coffee and looked across the table at Harry.

"So," he began, "what's happening at school? I tried asking Dumbledore, but he only told me the basics—that some pure-blood students were attacked. Malfoy too, apparently. Even the Ministry is involved now. I read one of those Daily Prophet articles this morning… absolute rubbish, blaming you for everything again."

Harry stirred his tea slowly. "Yeah… that's basically how it is. At school, people look at me like I'm some kind of monster. Like I'm carrying the plague. Even walking through the corridors feels like walking through a ghost town. They won't even look me in the eye."

Lyra, her voice edged with curiosity and something else, asked, "What about your friends? Do you have any, or are they all scared of you too?"

James added gently, "Yeah. What about Ron? Hermione? Neville?"

Harry finally smiled faintly. "I've got a few. They've stuck with me. Ron, Hermione… and Cael especially. He even sent me this." He held up the enchanted pen. "It's got protection runes. Said it'll block a powerful spell once."

James reached over and examined the pen. "Clever bit of work. I don't know much about rune enchantments, but I did teach Cael for a term the year before last year when I guest lectured. Bright kid. Sharp in dueling and charms."

Harry nodded. "He's had a few clashes with the Slytherins. Same as last year, honestly."

James gave a short laugh. "That never changes. Back in my day, we were practically at war with Slytherin. I had my fair share of run-ins… especially with your professor." He smirked meaningfully.

Elena chuckled as she passed the jam. Lyra reached for the butter, still eyeing the pen.

"You're lucky," she said quietly. "You have friends who actually care about you."

The table fell into a brief silence. James looked at his daughter, a twinge of concern in his eyes.

Elena leaned in, brushing a hand over Lyra's hair. "Oh, sweetheart… next year you'll be going to Hogwarts too. You'll make friends there. Your cousin Astoria will be there too."

James smiled and ruffled her hair. "That's right. I didn't have any friends either before Hogwarts. And when I got there, it all changed."

He paused, and for a fleeting moment, his eyes lost focus—memories rushing in, both joyful and painful. His smile flickered. Then he straightened, pushed the moment away, and changed the subject, bringing back the laughter.

And so the Potter family's Christmas morning unfolded—with food, cautious peace, and a few glimmers of warmth.

⸻

Across the Sea – The Vole Family 

On the other side of the sea, near the Isle of Asyles, in a grand yet quiet manor, the Vole family gathered in their marble dining room for breakfast.

Cassandra sat between her mother, Selene, and her father, Alaric Vole, silently sipping her tea. The clink of silverware on porcelain echoed in the large room.

"So," Selene began, folding her napkin neatly, "tell me about the situation at Hogwarts. We've heard troubling things. Even the Daily Prophet is whispering that Harry Potter is involved again."

Cassandra exhaled. "Yes… this term was full of incidents. Three students—pure-bloods—were petrified. It's caused chaos. The Ministry sent Aurors to the castle. When I left, they were still patrolling the halls."

Alaric grunted. "Lucius Malfoy's been pushing hard to remove Dumbledore. He came to several of the old noble families asking for support."

"He always does," Selene muttered.

"And how are your studies?" her mother asked, changing the subject.

"Fine," Cassandra replied. "Except for Defence Against the Dark Arts—that class is a disaster. Lockhart is… ridiculous. Every lesson's like a stage play. He asks students to pretend to be banshees or werewolves while he plays the hero."

Selene burst into laughter. "Oh, Lockhart. He was like that even when we were in school together. Attention-seeking buffoon. One Valentine's Day, he sent himself a thousand letters and told everyone it was because he was so adored."

Alaric chuckled. "And remember when he swore he'd be the first to create a Philosopher's Stone after graduation? Still waiting on that one."

Cassandra allowed herself a small smile.

Then Selene's voice lowered. "When Malfoy was attacked… do you really think it was Potter?"

"No," Cassandra said flatly. "Potter's not capable of that kind of magic. If he were, Dumbledore would've acted. This is something else. Something deeper. No one knows what yet."

Selene sighed and took a sip of her tea. "Well, before all this happened, Narcissa visited. She came pushing again for your engagement to Draco."

Cassandra's fork stopped halfway to her mouth. "And you refused, I hope?"

"Of course I did," Selene said calmly. "But she'll come back. For now, with Draco at St. Mungo's, they're preoccupied. But this isn't over."

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "Last term, Fischer Frey confessed his love to me in front of the entire Slytherin common room."

Selene burst out laughing. "So it begins. The admirers are lining up."

Alaric added with a grin, "You've clearly taken after your mother. Boys—and girls—used to line up just to talk to her."

Cassandra groaned as her parents began teasing each other, flirtatious as ever.

Then Selene turned back to her daughter, her voice softer. "Have you developed a crush yet? Someone you like? What about Cael ? Have he confessed to you yet?"

Cassandra's expression went blank. "No. I don't know what I feel, Mum. Cael's just a friend. He hasn't said anything, and neither have I."

Her mother only smiled knowingly. "That's alright. One day, it'll happen. You won't even understand why—but you'll know."

And with that, the Vole continued their breakfast—full of light teasing, warm glances, and the sense that, life marched forward.