A Magical Carol (Harry Potter/Christmas Carol)

Ghost of Christmas Past

Muggle things —most of the Black family, thought of Muggle things as a bane upon the magic community. After all, they were the reason their eldest absconded and deserted the family, liking as Sirius did the roar of a motorcycle and the scantly clad figure of some Muggle girls he loved plastering on the walls of his room prior to running away. And there were other things that the Black family would snub their nose at.

There were particular delights, such as a train that safely delivered children to Hogwarts for the school year, ensuring none of them became lost. For the most part, musical scores from great composures, things the Black family did not scorn, yet what they did or didn 't scorn remained a hushed tone, such as the family head and his love of Muggle medical texts, which were in line with his.

It was Arcturus who gave Orion one Christmas a copy of A Christmas Carol , which currently sat on the desk in his study, just as it had become a tradition to read every year. He 'd not said mum to Sirius, never wanting his eldest to have an excuse to use regarding why he should be allowed to illegally enchant motorcycles while also ogling the fairer sex, which was not even remotely the same.

Firelight flickered as he sat there, waiting for his youngest to return home while knowing in the back of his mind his eldest was likely never to do so. He took a deep breath, looking at the fireplace. Christmas—

"It's not been the same, has it," Orion muttered, slowly drifting asleep, thinking about how this would now be the third Christmas as a broken family, his mind suddenly wondering what the Ghost of Christmas Past would have to say.

"Oh, that's a good question."

Orion turned his head at the glowing, waxy figure that slowly took some sort of shape. "Shouldn't I be visited first by some old acquaintance who has since past warning me of your visit?"

"Well, you're not Scrooge," the figure said, still taking form as if trying to pick from something familiar until it lighted upon—

"Why, my youngest?"

"Well, he is quite the bright little candle, isn't he?" the spirit said. "It is a bit short, given the time frame, but this is how I am, shapeless and yet with form."

"A shaped candle, though with the ability to speak?" Orion said. "Not quite what I imagined, although it does fit the description."

"Plus," the spirit said, pretty much ignoring his comment. "You're already ready to visit your past, see Christmas past, and figure out what you could learn from them." The spirit held their hand while the flame flickered on top of their head. "So pardon me for looking like a candle shaped like a person, and take my hand."

And without hesitation, he took it, and he found himself falling or perhaps flying. They arrived at Grimmauld place and watched Walburga enter, bidding her guests to enter.

"When was this?" Orion asked, sucking in his breath as Sirius came hurtling in, eyes glued on the brightly colored presents under the tree only for Walburga—her eyes always watchful—to reach out and grab the back of their eldest's clothing, holding him back from tearing into the presents. Then he saw a younger version of himself come in, carrying a small child who clung to him, eyes ever wide.

"Now, what is the significance of this Christmas?" the spirit, having taken on a slightly older Regulus, asked.

"Shouldn't you know?" Orion asked of the spirit.

"Yes, well," they turned back, watching.

Orion sat down on the floor as Lucretia handed out the presents to everyone, her eyes twinkling. Slowly, he set Regulus down beside him, the small child sitting up yet wobbling despite now being six and a half. His attention was nowhere in particular, while Sirius was glued to the bright trappings placed just out of his reach.