The few weeks remaining before the Christmas holiday flew by for Harry. When he wasn’t in class or doing homework, he was almost always either outside practicing Quidditch or in the Room of Requirement working on wandless magic. Ever since he had used it to slow Ginny’s fall during the Quidditch match against Slytherin, fear of his secret being discovered had forced him to avoid doing any sort of wandless magic outside of his training sessions. By an incredible stroke of luck, there had been so much screaming going on when Ginny fell that no one had heard his shouted Summoning Charm, and those who had noticed her fall slowing as she approached the ground had thankfully assumed that Dumbledore had been the one to cast the spell. Harry was realistic enough, however, to understand that he couldn’t risk taking that sort of chance again unless it was absolutely necessary.
Ginny accompanied him to about half of his training sessions and helped him re-learn many of the spells he had taught the D.A. during his fifth year. By the time the Christmas holiday arrived, the only thing limiting the speed of his hexes was the fact that he had to say each incantation out loud. As a result, he and Ginny had resolved to redouble their efforts in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, where Professor Moody had been trying to teach them nonverbal spellcasting.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny shared a compartment in the Hogwarts Express for the trip back to King’s Cross Station, where Mrs. Weasley and Percy were waiting with Hermione’s parents.
“Everyone ready?” Mrs. Weasley asked as soon as Harry, Ron, and Ginny had finished saying goodbye to Hermione. When no one spoke up, she took it to mean that they were, and led the way back through the barrier and into the Muggle portion of the station.
“After you, Ronald,” Percy said in the same formal voice that Harry remembered him using at the start of term. Ron rolled his eyes as he set off after his mother.
“Ginevra,” Percy said, giving Ginny a curt nod. She scowled at him and took off after Ron, with Percy following right behind. Harry quickly fell in behind the Weasleys and followed them to Percy’s car.
He ended up in the backseat with Ron, while Ginny rode up front between her mother and Percy, who was once again driving much faster than would have been possible for Muggles given the heavy traffic. Percy’s car seemed to gracefully glide into the tiniest of spaces as he maneuvered it through the London traffic.
“Ron,” Harry whispered, leaning toward his friend as far as he could without looking suspicious.
“What’s up?” Ron whispered back, copying Harry and leaning slightly toward the middle of the seat.
“I just realized back at the station... Percy’s never said a word to me.”
Ron blew out a slow breath. “That’s because Percy’s a git,” he explained quietly as they zipped along at an alarming rate. “He may have come back to the family and joined the fight against You-Know-Who, but I haven’t heard him say one nice word about you the entire time. Hermione says he’s feeling guilty about all the stuff he said about you but he doesn’t feel like he can apologize when you don’t even remember what he did. But....” Ron paused for a moment and shook his head. “But I think the twins are right: Percy’s just the world’s biggest prat.”
Harry nodded to show that he understood, and then let out a long sigh as he allowed his head to fall back against the seat. Apparently, all was not as well as it seemed in the Weasley family.
The rest of the drive passed rather quickly as Ginny shared a few stories with her mother, and before they knew it they were coming to a stop in front of the Burrow. As soon as Harry got out of the car, he was greeted by Tyler shouting his name from the front porch.
“Hey, Tyler,” Harry called, waving as he began helping Ron get the trunks out of the car’s luggage compartment. Tyler hurried over to help them, and together they began lugging everything into the house.
“So, what’ve you been up to?” Harry asked as they deposited the trunks and owl cages near the stairs.
Tyler’s eyes lit up with excitement. “I’ve been learning to use all sorts of magical stuff. Check this out.” He pulled a shiny, though rather bulky, cigarette lighter from his pocket and held it upside down over a large jar that was sitting on an end table. He clicked the button, but instead of a tiny yellow flame shooting out, a ball of blue flame about the size of his fist dropped into the jar. Harry and Ron stared in shock.
“That’s the Bluebell Flame spell,” Ron muttered.
“That’s right,” Tyler exclaimed. He clicked the button again, causing the flame to be sucked back up into the lighter. “Fred and George gave it to me; they said it wouldn’t do for me to not even be able to light the stove if I needed to.”
“Those two really are brilliant,” Harry breathed. “It’s a shame they don’t dedicate more time to this sort of thing.”
“Actually, they are now,” Tyler informed him. “I thought I’d mentioned that in my letters. They’ve already started selling some defensive products - Shield Cloaks and the like - but they seem really keen to help me be able to use as much magic as possible. Not that I’m complaining, mind,” he finished with a wide grin.
“You’re kidding!” Ginny exclaimed as she joined the conversation. “I always knew the twins could be brilliant if they applied themselves, but... just, wow.”
“But- But if you’re a Squib, how can you even make any of their stuff work?” Ron asked.
“Well, I’m sure they could answer you way better than I ever could, but I think they enjoyed the challenge,” Tyler replied with a shrug. “They seemed to think it was the ultimate prank on Muggle-haters, since they’re using all sorts of spells and potions that were designed for....” He paused, a look of concentration passing over his features. “For.... What’s it called again when wizards set magical traps for Muggles?”
“Muggle-baiting,” Ginny supplied.
“Right, Muggle-baiting,” Tyler agreed.
“Hang on a minute,” Harry laughed. “You mean they’re using magic that was meant to torment Muggles as a way of helping Muggles and Squibs be able to do a bit of magic?”
Tyler nodded, and they all fell into a fit of laughter.
Christmastime at the Burrow was the most wonderful thing Harry had ever experienced. Together with Ron, Tyler, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley, he helped decorate the house inside and out. They hung garlands of evergreen boughs and holly from the windows, charmed real live fairies to sit still and serve as fairy lights, caused enchanted snow to fall slowly from the ceiling, and decorated the large Christmas tree which stood proudly in the living room with a multitude of homemade ornaments from when the Weasley children were younger.
When he wasn’t busy decorating, Harry spent his time chatting lazily with his friends, watching Tyler demonstrate more of the twins’ inventions, and even taking a few flights around the paddock on his Firebolt with Ron and Ginny. A nearly constant stream of baked goods emerged from the kitchen, causing him to eat more than he had ever thought possible. In short, Christmastime with the Weasleys was everything it always should have been, but never was for Harry. By the time he went to bed on Christmas Eve, he didn’t care whether he woke up to fifty presents or none at all; he was happier than he had ever dreamed possible. As he drifted off to sleep, his last thought was that he hoped to someday find a way to thank the Weasleys for all they had done for him.
Harry couldn’t have been asleep for more than a couple of hours when he was awakened by a quiet voice in his ear.
“Harry.” Someone shook him lightly. “Harry, wake up.” Harry opened his eyes to see that the room was still completely dark. He could just barely make out Mrs. Weasley’s outline where she stood next to his bed.
“What is it?” Harry whispered back as he pushed himself up into a sitting position and pulled on his glasses.
“Dumbledore is here to see you,” she replied.
“Dumbledore?” Harry asked worriedly. “What’s wrong? What’s he need at this time of night?”
“He wouldn’t say,” Mrs. Weasley answered, “but I can tell by that twinkle in his eyes that it’s nothing bad. Come on - downstairs.” Obediently, Harry followed her down to the ground floor and into the living room.
“Ah, just the man I wanted to see,” Dumbledore greeted him. Mrs. Weasley was right - the old Headmaster’s eyes were twinkling more brightly than Harry would have thought possible. Mr. Weasley was also in the room, but he looked just as confused about the late-night visit as Harry was. “I seem to be a bit early, but our other visitor should be here at any moment.”
They sat in silence for several minutes before Harry finally asked impatiently, “Why are we sitting here?”
“Actually, Harry, we are waiting for a friend of yours who is bringing you a very special Christmas gift,” Dumbledore replied mysteriously. To Harry’s bewilderment, the ancient Headmaster didn’t seem sleepy at all, even though it was nearly two o’clock in the morning.
They didn’t have to wait much longer before there was a very light tapping on the front door. Dumbledore immediately strode over and opened it, allowing an enormous man with wild hair and a tangled beard to duck into the room.
“Hagrid?” Harry asked in confusion. Had Dumbledore come all the way to the Burrow just to make sure Hagrid wasn’t giving him anything dangerous?
“‘Lo there, Harry,” Hagrid said brightly. “Molly, Arthur. Professor Dumbledore.” He nodded at each person as he said their name.
“Hagrid, here, has brought with him a gift for you, Harry - one he has been working very hard to complete for nearly two months now,” Dumbledore explained. Harry looked around in confusion, noticing that there were no caged animals in sight.
“Le’s see,” Hagrid muttered as he began patting the pockets of his enormous overcoat. “Ah! Here it is.” He pulled a rumpled package from one of his numerous pockets and held it out to Harry. It was a little over a foot long and rather thin. Harry stared at it for a moment, wondering what on earth it might be.
“Well, go on now,” Hagrid urged him excitedly. “Don’ be shy. Jus’ open ‘er up.”
Shrugging, Harry tore into the paper, only to furrow his brow in confusion when he saw that the present was a miniature pink umbrella. Looking closer, he realized that - except for its size - it was a near-perfect replica of the umbrella Hagrid carried with him almost all the time. Having no idea what was going on, Harry looked to the adults in the room for an explanation. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked at least as confused as he was, Dumbledore was just standing there with a knowing smile on his face, and Hagrid was beaming as happily as if he had just presented Harry with the key to Gringotts bank.
“Er- thanks,” Harry managed to say.
Dumbledore chuckled lightly. “I take it you have no idea what you are holding?”
“It’s a little umbrella,” Harry said.
“So it would seem,” said the Headmaster. “Harry, do you happen to know what is so special about the rather large pink umbrella that Hagrid usually carries?”
Harry shook his head.
“It holds the broken pieces of his first wand. Hagrid was expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, after he was framed for the opening of the Chamber of Secrets. At that time, his wand was broken in two and he was banned from using magic ever again.” Dumbledore smiled as he continued, “Of course, you helped to clear him at the end of your second year, and he has been able to legally use magic ever since. However, there was still a period of fifty years during which he could not openly practice magic.”
Hagrid’s face flushed slightly as Dumbledore paused long enough to wink at him. “You’ll notice that I said he could not openly practice magic. Hagrid did, in fact, continue using his wand after he discovered that its pieces could be embedded in his favorite umbrella. It took him over twenty years to finally master its use, but he did finally manage it.”
Dumbledore stopped talking, and Harry looked down at the miniature umbrella in his hand before asking, “So, what’s all this have to do with this little umbrella?”
“That umbrella, Harry, contains the broken pieces of Dolores Umbridge’s wand,” Dumbledore answered. It took a moment for the full impact of his words to sink in, but when they did Harry’s eyes widened in disbelief. He looked from Dumbledore’s smiling face to the tiny umbrella, and finally to Hagrid, who was once again beaming proudly.
“You mean....” Harry’s voice gave out; he couldn’t say it out loud for fear that he would be wrong.
“Yes, Harry,” Dumbledore said gently. “As I told you after the trial, there is always hope. I trust you will not doubt that again.”
Harry shook his head dumbly.
“Does this mean you’ll be performing the counter-charm now, Albus?” Mrs. Weasley asked, unable to remain silent any longer.
“No,” Dumbledore answered. “Hagrid will be performing the charm.”
“WHAT?” Mrs. Weasley shrieked. Harry saw the smile slide off of Hagrid’s face. Mrs. Weasley must have noticed as well, because she quickly turned to him and said, in a very kind voice, “It’s nothing personal against you, Hagrid. It’s just that- well, you’re not exactly a fully qualified wizard.”
“‘S okay, Molly,” Hagrid mumbled as he began nervously wringing his hands.
“Molly,” Dumbledore said gently, “Hagrid is the only person capable of casting this charm with the repaired wand.”
Mrs. Weasley gave him a disbelieving look. “But surely you-”
“I cannot, Molly,” Dumbledore interrupted. “I have also been practicing since shortly after Halloween, and I can’t so much as Levitate a feather with that wand. As I have just explained, it took Hagrid over twenty years to learn to reliably use a broken wand. Even taking into account his youth and inexperience at the time, I still could not reasonably expect to learn this skill in less than five years. I will not force Harry to wait that long - not when someone I trust completely is entirely capable of restoring his memory this very night.”
Mrs. Weasley looked like she still had misgivings about the idea, but she gave a hesitant nod.
“Let’s do this, Hagrid,” said Harry, holding the umbrella out toward him.
“If you don’t mind, Molly, Arthur, we’ll excuse ourselves to the kitchen,” Dumbledore said.
“Of course,” said Mr. Weasley as he and his wife both nodded.
Harry followed Dumbledore and Hagrid into the kitchen and took a seat at the table. He was almost shaking with anticipation as he eyed the little umbrella in Hagrid’s hand.
“Before Hagrid begins, Harry,” said Dumbledore, “you should understand that in a moment, five years’ worth of memories are going to begin flooding into your mind, and you may experience some vertigo. This is completely normal, so don’t let it concern you.”
Harry nodded impatiently. He couldn’t believe his luck; he had completely given up hope of his memory ever returning, and suddenly here were Dumbledore and Hagrid with the solution.
Dumbledore nodded, and Hagrid began waving the small umbrella over Harry’s head in an intricate pattern while muttering under his breath. Images began swimming before Harry’s eyes, but they were still too indistinct to be seen clearly. His stomach churned, and he squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to quell the nausea.
In an instant, everything changed. He was no longer sitting in the kitchen of the Burrow; he was at the zoo with the Dursleys for Dudley’s eleventh birthday. He watched in surprise as the glass on a very large snake’s cage magically vanished.
The memories flew by, yet Harry was somehow able to experience each of them all over again. He relived the fiasco that had resulted from Uncle Vernon trying to prevent him receiving his first Hogwarts letter, met Hagrid for the first time, learned how his parents had really died, and met the Weasleys at King’s Cross Station. He played Quidditch for the first time, helped Ron save Hermione from a twelve-foot mountain troll, got his first glimpse of Lord Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest, and saved the Philosopher’s Stone from falling into Voldemort’s hands. He remembered watching Ginny’s embarrassment at finding him in her house the following summer, the way he and Ron had nearly been beaten to death by the Whomping Willow, and the stares and whispers he’d had had to endure when much of the school believed him to be the Heir of Slytherin.
When he remembered going into the Chamber of Secrets after Ginny, his blood ran cold. The fear and worry he had felt at the time combined with his feelings for her in the present, causing the vertigo to return as he fought the Basilisk and finally plunged its fang into Tom Riddle’s diary. He smiled as he remembered meeting Sirius Black for the first time and discovering that he had not betrayed or murdered anyone, and his jaw clenched in fury as he saw Peter Pettigrew escape into the darkness.
As Harry’s forgotten memories continued flashing before his eyes, he relived the Triwizard Tournament and the return of Lord Voldemort in his fourth year, and Dolores Umbridge’s reign of terror during his fifth. His heart nearly broke with sorrow as he watched Sirius fall through the veil in the Department of Mysteries, never to return. With a detached sense of embarrassment, he relived his anger as he destroyed Dumbledore’s office and smashed the two-way mirror that Sirius had given him. Then he remembered traveling back to Privet Drive, only to be captured by Umbridge and Obliviated.
As the rush of memories ended, Harry opened his eyes to find that he was slumped in his chair and breathing heavily as tears ran down his cheeks. He sat up slowly and studied his fingernails for several long minutes. So many terrible things had happened to him in his short life that it was overwhelming, yet he was no longer angry over it as he once had been. In spite of all of the bad things - and sometimes even because of them - there were plenty of happy memories, too. He didn’t only remember fighting Lord Voldemort and learning of the Prophecy; he also remembered playing Quidditch, sitting by the lake with Ron and Hermione, and spending Christmas with Sirius. With a sudden shock, he realized that, up until he had lost his memory, he hadn’t looked at his life in that way in a very long time. His memory had returned, but the fact that he had lost it to begin with had irreversibly changed him for the better.
Finally, after nearly half an hour of just sitting and thinking, Harry looked up at Dumbledore with tears still shining in his eyes. “Sorry about your office,” he said with a weak laugh.
“Not a problem, Harry; it was nothing a little magic couldn’t fix, and Merlin knows I deserved it.” Looking shrewdly at Harry’s tear-stained face, he added, “I realize that this is a lot to take in at one time, and that it is extremely unfair to ask so much of one so young-”
Harry shook his head. “No, it’s not that,” he interrupted, wiping his eyes. Dumbledore quirked a bushy eyebrow at him. “I was just thinking.... I have a really great life, don’t I?”
Dumbledore looked extremely surprised at the complete lack of sarcasm in Harry’s voice. After a moment, he responded with a warm smile. “You may stay in here if you wish, Harry, but I’m afraid Hagrid and I have to be going. I do suggest, however, that you get some more sleep.”
Harry nodded and got wearily to his feet. He was exhausted, and the high he had felt as his memory returned was fading fast, leaving him feeling even more drained than he had been when Mrs. Weasley had dragged him out of bed.
“Thank you, Hagrid,” Harry whispered as he got to his feet and enveloped the enormous man in a hug.
“Glad ter help,” Hagrid sniffled, returning the hug and nearly knocking the wind out of Harry by patting him on the back.
After a moment they headed back into the living room, Harry stumbling along in his exhaustion. Upon entering the room, he was immediately caught up in a very tight hug by Mrs. Weasley.
“Did it work?” she whispered anxiously as she released him.
Now too exhausted to speak, Harry only nodded and began the long climb to Ron’s bedroom. As he paused momentarily on the first floor landing, he heard Mrs. Weasley’s worried voice asking, “What’s going on, Albus? Is he all right? Why are you looking at him like that?”
“Something most extraordinary just happened in your kitchen, Molly,” Dumbledore said in a strangely distant voice. “Harry Potter grew up.” Harry continued dragging himself up the stairs, and the conversation in the living room faded into the background.