The Dumbledore household was always bumbling with some sort of activity. Mr and Mrs Dumbledore were very nurturing parents who continually encouraged their two sons Aberforth and Albus to pursue all of their hobbies and interests. The family lived in a modest-sized, two-story home. Upstairs were the bedrooms, and downstairs there was a kitchen and dining room, Mr Dumbledore’s private study, and the living room. Mr Dumbledore’s study had initially been the home to the library, but the collection of books soon spilled into the living room, the dining room, and was making its way up the newly installed bookshelf that ran up the stairway. In this household, books were considered the ultimate treasure, but there were also odd scientific and magical instruments resting on various tables and desks.

The delicious smell of gingerbread wafted through the house as Mrs Dumbledore prepared one of the family’s favorite holiday treats. She hummed a cheery holiday tune as she checked the oven to see how close the cookies were to being done. There was a cool gust of wind as someone entered the kitchen door, and a flurry of snow entered the house before the door was closed again tightly. She knew, as a mother, who had entered her kitchen by the way they had closed the door. “Did you have a nice time, Albus?”

“Yes, Mother,” her son replied brightly.

“Oh! Don’t do that, Albus! Your hands are freezing!” Mrs Dumbledore exclaimed as she shooed her son’s hands away from her.

Her son only laughed, and she couldn’t be mad at him for such a harmless thing, especially when he had that endearing twinkle in his eye. The boy had gotten away with quite a lot growing up because of that adorable, yet mischievous, twinkle.

“Sorry, Mother,” he said, dashing out of the kitchen with one of the cinnamon dumplings that had been cooling on the counter.

“I saw that, you wicked boy! Be glad that your ma loves you so much!” She called after him.

Albus savored the luscious dumpling as it melted in his mouth. One thing about the Christmas Holidays is that there was never a want for his mother’s cooking and delicious treats. Mrs Dumbledore wanted to make sure that her boys had all of their favorites while they were home on a break from Hogwarts. Albus peeled off his heavy winter coat and boots, and stashed them in the coat cupboard along with his scarf. He then went into the study, knowing his older brother Aberforth would be there. Aberforth was a year ahead of Albus in school, but even so, the two were best friends and fiercely competitive.

“How was bowling?” Aberforth asked his brother, glancing up for just a moment from the book he had propped open while he absentmindedly worked on knitting a pair of socks.

“I bowled a good set today. How’s the research for the next task?”

“If I tell you I haven’t already found something, you’ll just try and help me, won’t you? Insufferable genius.”

“That’s quite right,” Albus winked, “Old Marchbanks said I did things in my O.W.L. Examination with a wand that she’d never seen before. I may have a trick or two up my sleeve.”

“Oh, I do remember something about that. A vision comes to mind,” Aberforth paused for the ultimate dramatic effect, “yes, it seems there was a day last summer when my younger brother got his exam results back - all Outstanding marks.”

“Yes, that sounds about right,” Albus confirmed, picking a book off one of the shelves and beginning to flip through it.

“Where did you get the dumpling?”

“Kitchen, of course.”

“I didn’t know they were ready.” Aberforth picked up his wand from the table and, with a flick, said, “Accio dumpling!”

A moment later, a hot dumpling came zooming into the study, along with their mother’s voice of frustration calling out, “BOYS!”

“Sorry, Mother,” Aberforth called back with a grin. “Alas, the wand just sort of took on a life of its own.”

Both brothers laughed and then settled back into their reading. There were a few hours yet until supper, and after reading a few chapters out of a novel, Albus set the book aside in favor of a different task. He began wandering through the house, collecting books from the staircase, the living room, and the study. He stacked the different books all onto one of the small tables near a comfy chair in the study. He compiled a stack with books varying in topic from sea creatures to astronomical alignment power enhancement to ancient defensive spells before settling down to read. Albus had a thirst for knowledge that may have rivaled Rowena Ravenclaw herself. He read any book he could get his hands on, and he remembered a significant portion of everything he read.

Albus began devouring the pile of books assembled for the afternoon’s perusal. As each was set aside, Albus left bits of parchment to mark things that he wanted to continue reading about later. Eventually the smell of roast beef overpowered the smells of ginger and cinnamon, and not long after that, Mr Dumbledore arrived home from work. He joined his boys in the study, and soon they were all called to dinner.

Once the family was gathered around the table, they quickly indulged in banter. There were comments about Albus’ obsession with tenpin bowling, quips about the small kitchen fire from the last time Mother had tried to cook lamb, some healthy ribbing directed at Aberforth for his inclination for a certain Ravenclaw in his year named Galatea Merrythought, and some inquiries about Father’s day at the Magical Creature Care Center.

Finally, when each person had excessively satisfied their hunger and Mrs Dumbledore had banished the dishes to the sink to wash themselves, Mr Dumbledore fixed his oldest son with a serious look. “Aberforth, you’ve successfully battled a Chimaera. Do you have any idea what the next task will be?”

“I think we’re supposed to go into the Forbidden Forest to retrieve something. That’s what I’ve worked out from the clue so far,” Aberforth answered. “I’ve been looking up information about creatures that have been found in the Forest so far, different defensive spells. But what I really need is a sort of compass spell, and I can’t seem to find it. You’d think our professors would teach us an essential spell like that.”

Albus coughed pointedly.

“Will you assist me, o wise Albus?” Aberforth asked in a tone of sarcastic reverence.

“I suppose I will take pity on you,” Albus said in a voice that was equally as sarcastically serious.

That was what took the boys back to the study. Albus searched the shelves for yet another book, “There’s a pretty complicated navigational spell, but it’s evidently not very accurate. The Hogwarts professors don’t teach it because there have been so many excursions in need of redirection after relying on the spell.”

Aberforth nodded, and thought for a moment while Albus continued searching for whatever book he had in mind. “If we could look at the basis of that navigational spell and then perhaps find a way to modify it with the Magnetic Jinx we used on Simon Thatcher last month...”

“Yes, that was what I was thinking. And here we are,” Albus exclaimed, pulling a volume off the shelf with his long fingers. He set it down on the desk and Aberforth stood next to him while he flipped to the correct page. Then they both leaned their heads in and began analyzing the spell. Soon they’d made notes on a few sheets of parchment, dissecting the elements of the navigational and magnetic spells. After an hour of comparing and experimenting, Albus and Aberforth finally found something that seemed to work. At least it seemed to be consistently pointing north with the compass they’d found in their father’s desk.

“We’ll have to test it tomorrow on an actual excursion,” Albus noted.

“How about some snow-shoeing in the forest out near the river?” Aberforth suggested.

Mr Dumbledore chose that moment to check up on his sons’ progress. “A snow-shoeing trek? Let’s see that spell you two have been working on.”

The boys grinned. Each of them placed their wands on their palms and then, simultaneously said, ”Point Me.” Both wands whipped around to point to the north.

Their father clapped appreciatively. “You know boys, Ricktus Farnsworth is paying a nice sum for new practical spells to be published in his next book,” he said, tossing Aberforth the classified section of The Prophet with the advertisement he’d just mentioned.

The boys shook hands and then began preparing things for their experimental trek the next morning before going back to the kitchen to find the hidden stash of leftover cinnamon dumplings.