Christmas was coming. One morning in Mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and attracted several students out onto the ice for skating. Fred and George Weasley, Ron's older brothers in Gryffindor house, were punished for bewitching several snowballs to follow Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. Harry was of the opinion that they should ask the Weasley twins what spell they had used, so that he might use it against Snape or Malfoy. But seeing as the Weasleys were both on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Millie thought it was unlikely they'd have any friendly feelings toward a Slytherin student, and the subject was dropped.
The hallways and classrooms grew more drafty and cold with each passing day, and potions in the dungeons was absolutely dreadful with the cold and damp. Harry had been surprised to find that the Slytherin common room was remained quite warm. The large fireplaces were kept constantly running with great, roaring fires, and the many overstuffed armchairs scattered throughout the room could be delightfully cozy when one dragged down the blankets from their bed. It was in just such a position that Harry made himself comfortable one day before break, curled in a chair near the fire in a cocoon of his blankets, reading a book Blaise had recommended to him called Quidditch Through the Ages. He had heard Higgs would be graduating that the end of the year, and he was very keen on trying out for the Seeker position himself.
"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy's familiar drawling tones, "for those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."
Harry could feel Malfoy staring at him and knew this speech was meant for his ears. Malfoy's familiars, Crabbe and Goyle, chuckled thickly. Harry, who was busy learning more about the first Quidditch World Cup in 1473, happily ignored him.
It was true that Harry wasn't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas, a thought which caused him near-constant delight. When Snape had gone around collecting the names of students who wished to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays, Harry was the first and only Slytherin to sign up. But he didn't feel sorry for himself at all. In fact, he was looking forward to what Christmas at Hogwarts would be like, and with the extra alone time, he would be free to explore the forbidden corridor.
Snape had been in an increasingly foul mood as the holidays approached, leading Harry to suspect that he had not been successful in stealing the mysterious artifact. That only meant Harry had more time to figure out a way to steal it himself, and he felt certain that the answer would be found in the identity of Nicolas Flamel. Now he just needed to find out who that was.
If Quidditch Through the Ages was any indication, Flamel had not been a famous Quidditch player. But Harry was sure he'd find something in one of the library books during break. Later. For now, he just wanted to learn more about the Wronski Feint.
But it was not to be, as Malfoy's increasingly elevated voice cut across his train of thought again.
"I mean, it really is pathetic if you think about it. It's one thing if you can't stand your family, but to have to stay because you haven't got a proper family to begin with? That's just sad."
This time his words stung. Harry closed his book with a snap and looked up at Malfoy angrily. Of course, Malfoy was already staring in Harry's direction, waiting to see what effect his words would have on Harry.
"Oh, Potter! Sorry, didn't see you there," lied Malfoy, "Getting ready for the holidays? I was just telling Crabbe and Goyle that I should start packing for my trip home. Will you be returning to your muggles?"
"You know I'm not, Malfoy," Harry said through gritted teeth.
"No? Well that's too bad. I suppose if you wanted to you could always come visit my family. I'm sure mother wouldn't mind, and there's plenty of extra room..."
Harry felt like gagging at the prospect of spending his precious holiday with Malfoy, but he was spared the indecency of having to respond to Malfoy's request. Blaise and Millie were both making their way through the door, and they were just in time to hear Malfoy's comments to Harry.
"What in Sauron's name are you talking about, Draco?" Blaise said theatrically, "Harry's coming to my house for Christmas!"
Malfoy and Harry both looked at Blaise in shock. "What?" they asked in unison.
Blaise grinned and demonstrated a letter he held between his middle and index finger, "I just got permission from my mum. She says you're welcome to spend Christmas with us this year. That is, if you want to."
"Yeah!" said Harry, feeling his heart swell with excitement, "Yeah! I want to! But... I already signed up to stay at Hogwarts..."
"It's alright. Mum said she'll write to Dumbledore. She'll get it sorted out."
Blaise and Harry grinned at each other. Malfoy looked on jealously. Millie rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of her male friends, and wandered off to the girls' dormitories to prepare for her own trip home.
It felt odd to be climbing aboard the Hogwarts Express again so soon after his first arrival. There was the same feeling of excitement among the students, only now everyone was abuzz with discussing Christmas plans. Harry recalled that the last time he had been aboard the train, he'd been on his way to school, sharing a compartment with Ron Weasley. He felt the usual pang of regret that they hadn't become friends after all, though the feeling was less intense than it had been at the beginning of the year, and it lasted a much shorter time.
Harry, Blaise, and Millie managed to nab a compartment to themselves for the return trip. Harry had been concerned that Malfoy would try to weasel his way into their party, but luckily he kept away during the whole trip. The trio were able to pass the time together pleasantly enough, and soon the conversation drifted to their favorite topic – the mysterious artifact and the identify of Nicolas Flamel.
"You don't think Snape will manage to steal it over break while we're gone?" Harry asked.
"I don't think he'll have a chance to," Millie replied. "With the student's gone, there's less distraction. Dumbledore might catch him if he tries anything."
Blaise nodded in agreement, "Plus, remember what Hagrid said? He said that Snape was one of the teachers guarding the artifact. That means Dumbledore has more than one obstacle in Snape's way. You saw what happened on Halloween. He wasn't expecting Fluffy. I'll bet he'll want to figure out what the other teachers have done before he tries anything again."
"What do we know about Flamel?" asked Millie.
"I never found anything in the library," Harry said sadly.
"I could ask my mum," said Blaise helpfully, "I'll tell her it's for a school project. I mean, the artifact is hidden in the school, so it's not really a lie, is it?"
"I'll ask my parents, too," said Millie. "I doubt they'll know anything, but it's worth a shot."
The scarlet steam engine rolled up to the platform amid cheers of welcome from waiting family and friends. Blaise craned his neck out the window of their compartment in eager anticipation of catching a glimpse of his mother.
"You'll like her, Harry," he said as he scanned the crowd, "She's not like other moms. She's cool."
"I wouldn't know," said Harry quietly. He hadn't really meant to say anything, and he regretted the comment instantly. Luckily, Blaise didn't appear to have heard him over the sound of the train and conversation. Millie, however, looked at Harry with an expression of surprise and sudden interest. Harry saw her eyes flash toward his lightning scar and he flushed with embarrassment.
Fortunately, she made no comment, and was soon gathering her bags from the overhead compartment. Blaise gave an exclamation of delight to show that he had spied his mother, and was quickly following Millie out the door. Harry carefully composed himself, slowly dragged down his trunk, and hefted Hedwig's cage with one hand. It was time to meet Blaise's family.
Edana Zabini was the most beautiful woman Harry had ever laid eyes on. She was tall and slender, but not bony like his Aunt Petunia. Her skin was darker than Blaise's and seemed to glow with a warmth all its own. She wore her curly dark hair short, emphasizing her long, elegant neck. Her face was completely free of wrinkles, causing her to seem far younger than her years, until her son stepped off the train and she broke into a charming smile, made all the more welcoming by the fine lines which formed around her eyes and the corners of her full lips.
Harry was instantly nervous. He lingered on the steps of the Hogwarts Express as Blaise jogged happily to his mother. He watched mother and son exchange a quick hug and enter into conversation. Blaise began to look over his shoulder, obviously wondering where Harry had wandered off to.
Harry was finally forced forward from an impatient shove at his back as other students tried to disembark the train and join their families. He wasn't really sure what he was expected to say upon meeting Blaise's mother. Blaise had told him very little about her, and he hadn't expected to be so disarmed by her appearance. She was lovely to the point of intimidation.
His nerves quieted as he approached the pair. Blaise's mother extended her warm smile to Harry and offered him her hand.
"You must be Harry," she said politely, "Blaise has told me so much about you. I'm very glad you could come."
"Thank you," Harry managed to say without stammering. He was struck by the sudden notion that he would have loved to have had a mother like this, and he felt homesick for a place he couldn't remember living, with a mother he never knew.
Harry knew he was starting to feel jealous of Blaise, and he didn't like feeling that way about his friend. He tried to shake it off as he grabbed his trunk and Hedwig's cage and began following Blaise and Mrs. Zabini toward the entrance to the platform.
"Where's the car?" Blaise asked as they exited Kings Cross Station.
"You have a car?" Harry asked in surprise. He didn't imagine pure-blood wizarding families had automobiles.
But Blaise contradicted him with a laugh, "All self-respecting wizards have at least one car, Harry. It's the one thing the Muggles got right!"
"Telephones, Blaise," Mrs. Zabini corrected automatically.
Blaise considered this for a moment before nodding. "Those are alright, too."
They stood at the curbside in front of the station, watching traffic drive by. Mrs. Zabini appeared to be searching for something in the road when she suddenly lifted her hand and waved. A shiny black car detached itself from the circling traffic and pulled up to the curb in front of them. The windows were tinted so dark he could barely see the driver.
"Blase, sit up front, will you?" Mrs. Zabini asked as Blaise and Harry loaded their trunks into the boot of the car. "I'd like to get to know Harry more."
"Your only son has been away at his first term in Hogwarts, and all you care about is his famous friend!" Blaise exclaimed in mock-annoyance. He smiled at Harry and winked before jumping into the front seat, where he immediately began a lively conversation with the still-unseen driver.
Harry climbed into the back with Mrs. Zabini and found that it was quite spacious inside the car, more than he would have expected judging from the outside appearance.
"And how have you been enjoying your first term?" Mrs. Zabini asked as Harry wondered if the car was enchanted.
"Fine," said Harry, acutely aware that Blaise was listening to their conversation from the front seat. "Er... Flying is really fun."
"He's really good at it too, mum!" Blaise chimed in, "Pity that he can't try out for the Quidditch team this year, but I'd say he'd do well as Seeker! Say, do you know Nicolas Flamel?"
Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't expected Blaise to ask so suddenly, and so soon after reuniting with his mother. Fortunately, Mrs. Zabini didn't appear to notice his alarm.
"Flamel? Why do you ask?"
"It's a project for school," Blaise said brazenly.
Mrs. Zabini eyed her son critically, but she seemed satisfied with his response, "He's the only wizard to have successfully created a philosopher's stone."
"The what?" Harry asked before he could stop himself.
"It's a stone which turns any metal into pure gold," Mrs. Zabini explained, "It can also be used to create a potion which gives the drinker eternal life."
Harry and Blaise exchanged wide-eyed stares. Immortality and infinite wealth? It was no wonder Snape was trying to get his hands on the artifact, if in fact it was the stone.
"But how does it work?" Blaise asked excitedly.
Mrs. Zabini raised one perfectly formed eyebrow, "If I knew that, don't you think I'd have made a stone for myself?"
They left London and continued to drive until they reached a small country town called Ascending Downs. Blaise cheerfully pointed out to Harry the many features of the town as they drove. Apparently it had as many wizarding families as it did muggles.
The Zabini residence was a little removed from the town proper. Situated on a sprawling garden covered in freshly fallen snow, the three-story red-brick home took Harry's breath away. He knew that many Slytherin students came from powerful, rich families; but Harry had not expected this degree of wealth. He couldn't be certain from viewing the outside alone, but he felt confident that the amount of wealth possessed by Mrs. Zabini made Harry's trove of galleons in Gringotts appear laughably small.
Blaise bounded out of the car as soon as it stopped, ordering Harry to follow and not bother with their luggage. Harry thought this was unfair to Mrs. Zabini, but she waved him away with a smile. He wondered if they were expected to collect their things after Blaise gave Harry the tour of the house.
"Hello! I'm back from school!" Harry could hear Blaise shouting cheerfully just inside the door.
"Is it, er... Mr. Zabini?" Harry asked, realizing suddenly that he'd never heard Blaise speak of his father.
"What?" Blaise asked, confirming Harry's suspicion that he had just committed a faux pas.
"I mean, is your mother married?"
"Oh, no. She's between husbands at the moment," Blaise said laughingly, "But her past husbands are here. I was just saying hello."
Confused, Harry crossed the threshold into the foyer. Dominating one wall were six life-sized portraits. Harry stared at them with interest. Mrs. Zabini's former spouses all looked like very wealthy, if not important men. The paintings, like those of Hogwarts, were all moving, and they looked down at Harry with almost equal interest.
"Who's this, Champ?" asked the portrait of a roguish man with an eye-patch.
"This is my friend, Harry Potter." Blaise said in response to the portrait's question.
"Harry Potter!" exclaimed the portrait of an younger-looking man with freckles, "My goodness, is it really? Pleasure to meet you, sir."
"Er, yeah. Same to you," Harry replied.
"Pretty lucky for you, eh Kiddo?" asked the portrait of a bald fat man wearing a monocle, "I see you take after your mother. She always had powerful friends."
Blaise smiled, but he leaned over to Harry and whispered, "He's my least favorite."
"Which one's your father?" Harry whispered back, searching the other portraits for some resemblance of his friend.
"Oh, he isn't here," said Blaise. "Follow me."
Blaise led Harry to a small salon. It was quieter here than in the front hall, where the portraits' conversation continued at a loud hum behind them. Harry walked around the room, admiring Mrs. Zabini's collection of spell-books and curios. Meanwhile, Blaise headed straight toward the mantle above the fireplace. He brought a small framed picture to Harry and displayed it with a proud smile.
"My dad," he said.
Harry looked at the picture and saw the resemblance immediately. Though Blaise took more after his mother, his father shared the same broad smile. Harry was struck by a feeling that something was odd and then he realized the image wasn't moving. He had grown accustomed to portraits that moved and talked, and was surprised to encounter a still photo again, especially in the home of a pure-blood family. Harry was about to ask Blaise about the photo, when a knock sounded at the door and a very strange creature waddled into the room.
It was very short. Harry thought that it it couldn't be much taller than Professor Flitwick. But unlike the professor, the creature was certainly not human. It had very large, pointed ears that bobbed up and down as it walked. Its eyes were as large as tennis balls and colored the same bright green. It also had a large, pointed nose which turned up slightly at the tip. Topping off its very unusual appearance, Harry realized that at first what he took to be a sort of tunic was actually an elaborately embroidered pillow case, tied at the creatures waist with a bit of gilded twine.
The creature stopped just inside the doorway and bowed so low that its nose drew a line through the ornate carpet.
"Welcome home, Master Blaise," the creature squeaked, "Torsh has taken the liberty of placing master's belongings and those of his friend in master's room, sir. Would the master and Mr. Potter care for some refreshment?"
"Oh yes!" Blaise said happily, "Something sweet if you have it, Torsh. Do you want anything, Harry?"
"Er..." said Harry, still staring at the strange creature. He had no idea if it was male or female, and knowing what it called itself hadn't helped. "Yeah, some tea I suppose?"
"Very good, sir," said Torsh with another deep bow, "And how does Mr. Potter like his tea?"
Harry and Blaise finished their order, and Torsh backed out of the room, maintaining its bow until it was out of sight again. Harry turned toward Blaise, his mouth already open to ask about the bizarre creature, and found Blaise grinning at him.
"Torsh is a house elf," he said, anticipating Harry's question before it could be asked. "I forgot to ask... Was that your first time meeting one?"
"What's a house elf?" Harry asked, though he thought he had some idea.
"They're creatures that serve wizards," Blaise stated plainly, "But not all wizards have one because they're usually bound to a single family. It's hard to find a house elf who isn't already serving someone. Torsh belonged to my mother's fifth husband. He had no family, so when he died, Torsh stayed on with us instead."
Harry thought about this carefully. It seemed odd to him that a creature that could speak for itself could be owned by someone. The thought made him feel a bit uncomfortable.
"But Torsh doesn't belong to you, does... um... he?" Harry asked, trying to find some way of justifying this disturbing practice. "He could leave if he wanted to?"
"Torsh? Sure, elves are really powerful magic users. Torsh can do whatever Torsh wants to do, I suppose. But house elves don't like living on their own. They're happiest when they have a family to serve."
To hear Blaise speak, one would think that keeping a magical creature as a personal servant was a completely normal thing to do. Harry decided that there was still a lot he had to learn about the wizarding world, and decided to let the matter drop for a moment.
Torsh returned balancing a silver tray atop his or her head, piled high with snacks and drinks for Blaise and Harry. Harry was sure to thank Torsh for the service; a statement which was met with a surprised stare from Torsh followed by another deep bow.
Dinner that evening was superb. Blaise informed Harry that Torsh took care of all of the household needs, including cooking and serving dinner. Harry had to admit that Torsh was a marvelous cook. Blaise's mother sat at the head of the long dining table and asked Harry polite questions about his muggle family. Harry was often at a loss for words when trying to answer questions about the Dursleys. He worried that Mrs. Zabini could sense his discomfort, and luckily Blaise was quick to jump in with stories from Hogwarts. Mrs. Zabini had attended Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and was thus very interested to hear how things were run at the United Kingdom's school.
"I've invited Nick to Christmas Eve with us," she said suddenly during the dessert course of their meal.
"Who's Nick?" Blaise asked through a mouthful of bread pudding, "Not another suitor?"
"Certainly not. I mean Nicolas Flamel."
Blaise choked on his food and Harry flinched in alarm.
"Flamel?!" Blaise managed to exclaim once he'd regained control of himself, "What do you mean?"
"You said you had a school report about his work, didn't you?" Mrs. Zabini asked calmly. "He and his wife happen to be very dear friends. I thought it would be nice to invite them to our party Christmas Eve. You'd have a chance to interview him yourselves."
Blaise and Harry exchanged a look of apprehension. On one hand, they already had the information they needed. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that Fluffy was guarding the one and only Philosopher's Stone. However, if they denied needing to speak to Flamel now, Mrs. Zabini might suspect that something was up.
"Of course!" Blaise said, reading the look on Harry's face, "Brilliant, mum."
Mrs. Zabini took a careful sip of her wine and then said, "The Malfoys will be there too, of course."
Harry thought he had surely misheard her, until Blaise let out a groan.
"Oh, mum! You can't! Not with Harry here this year!"
"Blaise, it's tradition. You know I'm very fond of Narcissa."
"Oh, she's alright. But that son of hers!" Blaise said in exasperation.
"Blaise, be careful what you say about Draco. You know Narcissa can be terribly dangerous when it comes to him. It's our desire that you two be friends. And you're both in Slytherin!"
"Yeah, and we share a dorm, too. That doesn't mean he's stopped being a total wanker!"
"Language!" Mrs. Zabini warned.
Blaise rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, then looked at Harry apologetically.
"But mum, Draco's done nothing but harass Harry all year."
"It's not up for debate, Blaise. I already sent the invitation."
Blaise let out another exaggerated groan. Harry could do nothing but shrug. He wasn't sure which idea made him feel more uncomfortable. Meeting the man he was planning to steal from, or spending Christmas Eve with Draco Malfoy?