Harry's package is a small, flat, square-shaped box. Inside is a silver-colored metal Christmas ornament, in the shape of a stag. There's a card as well.

Dear Harry,

We know it's not Christmas here, but it is at home, and James and I wanted to get you something. We hope you'll like it.

Thank you again for all the help with the Patronus earlier; that class has been going much more smoothly since, and I'd probably still be something of a muddle without you.

Hope to see you soon.

Lots of love,
Lily

Below this, in a different hand, is

Happy Christmas, Harry.
– James


Albus' present is probably instantly recongnizable as a wrapped paperback book – a slightly flexible rectangle. This particular paperback is To Kill a Mockingbird, with To Albus, From Lily, Christmas, Sixth Year written across the flyleaf. There's a card as well.

Dear Albus,

I know it's not Christmas here, but it is at home, and I am taking the excuse to give you this book. It's another of Dad's many, many favorites, and one of mine, too. I hope you'll enjoy it.

I do apologize for the very Gryffindor paper, but blue and bronze would hardly seem Christmasy at all.

I look forward to seeing you soon.

Lots of love,
Lily

Mr Albus Spenser
in care of Miss Lily Evans
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Here Be Dragons
Parts Unknown

Dear Albus,

Lily has asked me to consider your speculation that one Mr William Shakespeare was, in fact, a Wizard. I cannot say that it is a theory I have ever heard before, but then, I do not often have the opportunity to discuss literary theory with Wizards other than my daughter.

She also tells me that her, admittedly limited, search of what records she could access at Hogwarts did not reveal any mention of his having been a student, nor was someone with the curious sobriquet 'Nearly Headless Nick' able to shed any light on the subject when she asked him.

This puts us, then, firmly in the realm of speculation, but that is not an unusual place to be, where Mr Shakespeare is concerned. We know comparatively little about the good gentleman -- he was born on or around 23 April 1664 to a glovemaker named John Shakespeare and his wife, born Mary Arden, in Stratford-upon-Avon. There are no records of his having attended school (unless they are in that castle of yours somewhere), but such records would not likely have been kept, and their absense does not prove that he did not. He married Anne Hathaway, some eight years his senior, in 1582, and they had three children. There are no records of him at all from 1585 until 1592, when he was first mentioned as being in London, where he acted and his plays were performed. He retired back to Stratford around 1610, and died in 1616, leaving his wife his 'second best bed'.

As you can see, there are certainly gaps where history loses the trail of the gentleman, so I suppose it is possible that he was off attending Hogwarts or being tutored in magic, instead of attending the local grammar school or poaching on Sir Thomas Lucy's lands.

It seems likely to me, however, that if The Bard of Avon were known to be a Wizard, you would be anxious to claim him as such, and would perhaps even include a play or two of his in your curriculum at Hogwarts, which I daresay you ought to do, regardless.

Of course, there has long been speculation that The Man from Stratford did not write the plays, etc., that we attribute to him. That Mr Shakespeare was merely the front for another, unknown author, who had reasons to hide his identity. (Candidates for this unknown author include Francis Bacon, Christopher Marlowe, Edward de Vere the Earl of Oxford, and even Queen Elizabeth I herself.)

There is, therefore, a possibility that Mr Shakespeare of Stratford was the public (Muggle) face of a Wizard who, for some reason, decided to devote his days to writing plays for the Muggle theatre but did not wish to have this fact known.

This is a very intriguing notion, but it would, I fear, be very difficult to prove.

Still, should you find any evidence that Mr Shakespeare was a Wizard -- or the Earl of Oxford or Queen Elizabeth I -- I should be delighted to know of it. Perhaps you will make the literary discovery of the century.

I wish you luck with your search.

Yours sincerely,
Adrian Evans

It's a solidly good production -- simple sets, straightforward production, nothing terribly innovative (but also nothing innovative for the sake of being innovative), an amazing Oberon balancing a slightly weak Bottom.

Adrian, as is his habit, keeps up something that is part review, part commentary, and part classroom lecture on the way home. Lily and Geraldine have both heard most of what he has to say about A Midsummer Night's Dream before, but it's new for Albus. And maybe it's the new audience, but Adrian seems even more animated than Lily thinks he usually is, and by the time they're back home, Albus and Adrian are deep in conversation and promptly vanish into the back room that essentially serves as Adrian's study.

Lily looks in on them three times, over the next couple hours. An increasing number of books seems to have been pulled from the shelves all around the room each time. Lily's not completely certain either of them even noticed her in the doorway.

"I do hope your father isn't boring that young man," Geraldine says, as Lily helps her get dinner together. It hasn't quite been discussed, but it seems to have been assumed that Albus will stay for dinner. (And at this rate, Albus may wind up having to sleep on the disreputable-looking but very comfortable couch in Adrian's study, because it's going to get way too late to pretend he's off to catch a train.)

"I don't think he's bored at all, really," Lily says. "And Dad's enjoying himself, so we'll let them talk. At least until dinner's ready."

"And possibly all through dinner, too," says her mother, with a slightly wry twist to her tone that would sound not unfamiliar to almost anyone who has talked to her younger daughter.

Geraldine is, of course, right. The conversation stays quite literary all through dinner and pudding, and Albus will have to pretend to contact relatives to tell them that he'll be staying with the Evanses tonight, because there's no way he'd start a train trip at this hour. Adrian might have gone right on talking, too, except that Geraldine insists that he help with the washing up. "That young man did not come to visit you, darling," Geraldine tells him, as Lily and Albus leave the kitchen. (Even though Albus kind of did.)

"I'm going to get us some tea," Lily says, "but if you go back in there, we'll never get away. Up the stairs, last door on the right, and I'll be there in a couple of minutes."

Lily vanishes back into the kitchen, leaving Albus on his own in his great-grandparents' house.