In December, Hogwarts Castle was gently embraced by thick snow, as if draped in silver.
In the early morning, golden sunlight streamed through the tall window frames, reflecting off the sparkling ice crystals outside and adorning the entire Castle like a fairy tale.
The air was filled with the fresh scent of pine branches and the sweet aroma of baked gingerbread, while the crackling of burning wood in the fireplace intertwined to create a warmth unique to Christmas.
The Great Hall was beautifully decorated, with a giant Christmas tree standing at its center.
This time, Sagres once again took on the important task of decorating.
Countless magical stars, emitting a soft glow, adorned the emerald-green fir branches, slowly rotating like a miniature Milky Way.
In addition, there were small animals shaped by Transfiguration — shimmering ice-crystal deer, clumsy snow owls, and even a few small fish continuously "swimming" among the branches.
These ice-sculpted animals were not static; Sagres had imbued them with faint magic, allowing them to make tiny movements, blink their eyes, and shake their heads, filling the entire tree with lively vitality.
The entire Christmas tree was like a miniature winter forest solidified by magic, exuding an unprecedented childlike wonder and festive joy.
The students who stayed at Hogwarts gathered beneath the tree, exclaiming in admiration, especially the younger wizards, whose eyes sparkled as they searched for the moving little creatures on the tree, as well as the magical gift boxes.
Hagrid, as the gamekeeper and Professor of Care of Magical Creatures, made a huge contribution.
He not only provided some of the finest fir trees around the Castle, trimming their branches to ensure they were presentable, but also brought his "stars" from his class to the Great Hall to add to the festive atmosphere.
Of course, these were all young or small creatures that had been strictly screened by the Professor and were docile in nature.
A group of fluffy Puffskeins were placed in padded baskets, purring contentedly and making students unable to resist reaching out to stroke their soft, long fur.
Several Bowtruckles were carefully placed on the Christmas tree in the Great Hall. They curiously poked out their small heads, watching the bustling crowd with a mix of wariness and excitement.
A few beautiful unicorn foals were allowed to quietly pace in the area near the door, which was covered with thick hay. Their golden manes sparkled in the candlelight, appearing sacred and beautiful.
Hagrid's huge figure bustled about the Great Hall, a satisfied smile on his face as he carefully looked after his "little darlings."
He occasionally let out a hearty laugh, reminding overly excited students, "Gently, don't scare them!"
This year, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all chose to stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas holiday.
Harry was grateful for this; he knew that Ron and Hermione had stayed purely to accompany him.
In the early morning, the trio, dressed in their newly received Christmas sweaters, squeezed together at the Gryffindor table, enjoying the sumptuous Christmas feast.
Giant roasted turkeys, mountains of roasted meat, glistening Yorkshire puddings, various pies and puddings… the aroma was irresistible.
They feasted heartily while excitedly discussing the gifts they had received.
Harry received a Firebolt and a note from Sirius.
His classmates were amazed by his Firebolt, but Harry kept a tight grip on the note, unwilling to let go:
"I've been too busy lately, Harry, but don't worry. We'll spend Christmas together next year."
The note was very brief, and the handwriting was quite messy, but it made a warm current flow through Harry's heart.
Ron and Hermione also received Christmas gifts from Sirius.
Ron received a tiny owl to compensate for his lost Scabbers.
The little fellow flew extremely fast, always squealing and darting around the room.
Ron outwardly complained about its noisiness, but he named it "Pigwidgeon" immediately.
Hermione received a magical tome from the House of Black's library, which contained many rare and even dangerous spells and their counter-curses.
"This spell is too dangerous."
"But Professor Greengrass said there's no harm in understanding it properly."
She frowned in criticism while reading with great interest.
The atmosphere in the Great Hall was relaxed and joyful, and even the mood at the Headmaster's table was very harmonious.
Dumbledore, wearing deep purple robes adorned with silver stars, his blue eyes twinkling with benevolent light, was happily discussing something with Professor McGonagall beside him.
Professor McGonagall, though still sitting upright, had a touch of festive softness on her serious face and was sipping eggnog in small sips.
Professor Flitwick sat on a high cushion, excitedly describing a new spell he had been researching to Professor Sprout, who held a cup of hot mead and listened with great interest, occasionally letting out kind laughter.
Sagres sat in a corner, conversing distractedly in a low voice with Lupin.
The food in front of him was almost untouched, and he continuously toyed with a transparent crystal goblet containing a small amount of mead.
His calm gaze swept over the joyful crowd in the Great Hall, resting on the lively ice-crystal animals he had created on the Christmas tree, as if he were admiring them, or perhaps contemplating something else.
Only Snape sat a little further away, with a glass of clear water in front of him.
He was still wearing his perpetually black robes, his gaze fixed on his cup as if studying the ripples on the water's surface.
Hagrid squeezed in at the table, enjoying a large turkey leg while excitedly describing to Snape how he had successfully appeased the unicorn foals' parents, who were waiting obediently at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Snape's lips were slightly downturned, as if in endurance, clearly reluctant to listen.
Halfway through the dinner, just as the atmosphere was at its peak, a stumbling figure appeared at the Great Hall entrance: Professor Sybill Trelawney.
She seemed to have had a good deal of sherry, wrapped in layers of scarves and beads. Her glasses had slipped to the tip of her nose, and her eyes were unfocused.
"Cel… celebrate!"
She slurred loudly, her voice strikingly abrupt in the suddenly quiet Great Hall.
She swayed toward the Headmaster's table, her gaze scanning the crowd blankly.
Dumbledore spoke gently, "Sybill, Merry Christmas. You're late."
Trelawney stopped.
She seemed not to have heard Dumbledore's words. Her gaze suddenly lost focus, and she began to babble in a wavering voice:
"Cold scales slither on decaying leaves… Loyal servants bear heavy shackles… Fearful sweat drenches humble bodies… He seeks… Oh no, he is driven toward the lurking shadow… The betrayer… is walking toward his destined… cage…"
Her voice grew softer and softer until it was almost a whisper.
Then her body went limp, as if she had exhausted all her strength, and she toppled directly onto the nearest empty chair. Her head lolled to the side, and she seemed to fall asleep instantly, even letting out a faint snore.
The Great Hall fell silent. Students exchanged glances, some bewildered by the sudden "prophecy," others assuming it was just another of Professor Trelawney's drunken ramblings.
But at the Headmaster's table, several gazes instantly sharpened.
Dumbledore's benevolent smile faded. A hint of solemnity flashed deep in his blue eyes as he looked thoughtfully at Sagres.
Sagres stopped toying with the crystal goblet, his grey eyes narrowing slightly.
He realized almost immediately that this was a genuine prophecy, completely different from her usual nonsense.
But this prophecy was too vague. Each sentence seemed ambiguous.
A betrayer?
Was it referring to Pettigrew?
But he should no longer be able to cause any trouble, and hadn't the Daily Prophet reported that he had been subjected to the Dementor's Kiss?
Unless… Fudge was lying.
Or perhaps the betrayer in the prophecy was someone else.
Sagres planned to find time to verify this.
Professor McGonagall, however, did not pay much attention to Professor Trelawney's prophecy. She sighed, shook her head helplessly, and gestured for a house-elf to bring a blanket to cover Trelawney.
Joyful Christmas carols sounded at just the right moment. House-elves brought out more desserts and hot drinks, and the Great Hall was once again filled with laughter and cheer.
Trelawney's ramblings were quickly drowned out by the festive mood, and no one cared—except for a few individuals.
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