Christmas had arrived.
Thick layers of snow covered the castle, the lake was frozen into solid ice, and even the owls that were usually seen everywhere had completely vanished.
At Hogwarts, most of the young witches and wizards had already gone home for the holidays, leaving the castle much quieter than usual.
However, with the Weasley twins around, there was never a lack of chaos.
Just this afternoon, they had enchanted snowballs and planned a harmless prank on their Potions professor.
But Snape clearly failed to appreciate their sense of humor—not only did he stop them, he deducted one hundred points from each of them.
"Heavens! I don't even dare look into Professor McGonagall's eyes. She probably wants to plant us into the ground like Christmas trees."
Fred hugged his arms and shivered hard as he remembered their Head of House's expression before dinner.
George felt the same lingering fear.
Ron leaned in curiously, disbelief all over his face.
"Merlin's beard! You really threw snowballs at Snape? I swear, Gryffindor has never had anyone braver than you two!"
"Oh, that's nothing!" Fred immediately struck a proud pose. "I just wanted to play a little prank on Professor Snape. Besides, don't you think his hair could really use a bit of snow washing?"
He was grinning smugly when George, sitting beside him, suddenly poked him in the side.
Fred turned his head in confusion, about to ask why, when he caught a glimpse of Snape standing right behind him with a cold, expressionless face. He froze instantly.
"Talking about a professor behind his back. One hundred points from Gryffindor."
Snape snorted, flicked his robes, and swept away like a great bat towards the staff table.
Only after he was far enough did Fred dare to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead.
"Heavens! When I saw Professor Snape just now, I thought I was about to be sent to meet Merlin himself!"
"Look at you, coward," George scoffed with mock disdain, hands on his hips.
And just like that, the twins were back to shoving and bickering with each other.
Ron watched them, feeling a strange sense of envy he couldn't quite explain.
Soon, the Christmas feast began.
Tonight, the Great Hall looked especially beautiful and majestic.
Garlands of holly and mistletoe hung along the walls, and twelve towering Christmas trees stood inside the room, glittering with bright icicles.
Ron stuffed a chicken leg into his mouth and mumbled, "Harry, after dinner, want to go outside and play in the snow? Snowball fight?"
"Sure!" Harry answered without thinking, but then hesitated. "But we promised Hermione we'd figure out who Nicolas Flamel is during the holiday."
"Oh, come on! The holiday just started today. Don't bring up anything that ruins the mood!" Ron rolled his eyes and complained loudly. "Besides, we've got loads of time! We can play first and look later!"
"Well—alright."
Harry had already been tempted, so with Ron pushing, he gave in easily.
They ate and chatted.
Harry's gaze drifted to the staff table, and he paused.
"Ron, Professor Dumbledore isn't here tonight. And Hagrid's gone too. He was here just a while ago…"
"Maybe they're busy. Not like we can control what professors do," Ron replied carelessly after a glance.
"Seriously, though, why is it only Snape who has time to come to dinner? Just seeing him ruins the whole Christmas atmosphere!"
Harry glanced nervously at Snape's cold face and silently agreed.
After dinner ended, the professors began giving out gifts.
Professor Flitwick stood up and sent a stream of golden bubbles from the tip of his wand. When they burst, candies rained down.
Professor McGonagall waved her wand and turned the students' chairs into lions, which carried the screaming students for a lap around the hall.
Professor Sprout gifted each student a flower pot with herbs whose scent was said to improve sleep.
"Ron! I think—next Christmas, we should give presents to the professors too," Harry said, holding his potted plant, his cheeks flushed from excitement.
Ron gave him a look. "Please don't tell me Snape is included?"
"Of course not!" Harry blurted out, but then, for some reason, he wondered if leaving Snape out entirely would be too mean.
Before he could untangle his thoughts, Ron suddenly grabbed a handful of snow from behind and threw it at the back of Harry's head.
"Hey! You ambushed me!"
Harry laughed, set his herb pot down, grabbed snow from the ground, packed it tight, and hurled it back at Ron.
The snow was cold against their skin.
But Harry felt this was the best Christmas he had ever had.
Not only did he get to spend it with friends, he received so many presents—one of them even being his father's Invisibility Cloak.
And best of all, Draco Malfoy wasn't here today.
Harry laughed louder as he ran through the snow, as if he were celebrating being free from that tiny cupboard of the past eleven years.
Inside Hogwarts Castle.
While the students enjoyed the festivities, the atmosphere inside the headmaster's office on the eighth floor was quiet and calm.
A brightly plumed phoenix dozed on a branch, and the fire crackled softly in the fireplace.
"So, Headmaster, did you need something from me?"
Hagrid, the half-giant, sat awkwardly on the edge of a chair, holding a tiny teacup carefully in his large hands.
Dumbledore stroked his beard and smiled warmly. "Relax, Hagrid. I only wanted to ask if anyone has asked you about the three-headed dog recently."
"No! No one's asked me!" Hagrid sat up straight and replied quickly.
But then he scratched his head and muttered in a small voice, "Well—Harry and the others did ask a few days ago…"
"And besides them?"
"No one else!"
This time, Hagrid sounded much more confident.
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, about to speak again, when a sudden tapping came from the window.
It was an owl, soaked with snow, carrying a letter. Dumbledore opened the window, surprised.
The little creature dropped the envelope on the desk, then hurried to the fireplace, shivering and trying to warm itself.
"Ministry of Magic, New Zealand?" Dumbledore frowned as he read the sender's address.
He opened the envelope, took out the letter, adjusted his half-moon glasses, and read it carefully by the firelight.
A moment later, he looked up, his expression solemn.
"Hagrid, please—go and ask Minerva to come here."
"Of course, Headmaster! Right away!"
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