Chapter 159: A Good Show
The good news was that Sean had started preparing Christmas gifts.
The bad news was that he hadn't seen Professor McGonagall for two days. Even Professor Snape was missing.
He guessed McGonagall was busy with that matter, but Snape? For the first time, Sean arrived at the dungeon for a scheduled session to find it empty.
Where had he gone?
Only Sir Cadogan remained outside the dungeon, still attempting to mount his pony. He was black and blue, though Sean couldn't say when he'd sustained these latest injuries.
"Oh! Young Green—how exciting! I daresay there'll be good news this Christmas, eh? And even better news—I once persuaded a foolish fellow to repent before Gryffindor Tower, but now! Ha! At least he won't have to go to Ravenclaw Tower."
Sir Cadogan trotted off triumphantly.
Only the Fat Lady and Lady Violet understood his meaning.
It was a night of storms and lightning, just like this one. A single slur—"Mudblood"—had destroyed all possibility for two wizards.
The knight, furious as he had been two nights ago, had charged into the dungeon to roar sense into that numb soul. Waiting and apologizing before Gryffindor Tower might have been one of the bravest things that numb man had ever done.
The Fat Lady bit into an apple and stuck out a foot to trip the knight. She was still indignant. "It's tragic! How... how... how can he compare to little McGonagall..."
Seeing her anger, Lady Violet could only chime in, "Don't worry, my dear lady. Remember, he too was recognized by a knight..."
In many ways, the Ministry of Magic operated like a makeshift stage production, especially concerning Muggle-born orphans.
After a day of gathering information, Minerva McGonagall discovered the absurdity—they operated according to Muggle rules.
For wizarding orphans born in the Muggle world with unknown parentage (especially Muggle-borns), the Muggle social system temporarily took charge until the magical world discovered them.
Even after discovery, the Muggle system remained in control; the Ministry merely enforced the Statute of Secrecy.
With luck, a young wizard might find relatives in the wizarding world. Without it—like young Tom Riddle—they simply stayed at Hogwarts.
There were almost no precedents for wizards adopting Muggle-born orphans.
Rubbish-strewn street, Croydon.
Minerva McGonagall's usually stern gaze was heavy with suppressed emotion.
The director of Hollysage Orphanage broke out in a cold sweat. The woman in the emerald-green robes radiated an overpowering presence. Her eyes were deep and penetrating; at times, the director felt as if her very memories were being read.
"You say this is a lengthy process?" McGonagall asked, an instinctive unease rising within her.
"Of course, ma'am. We'd be happy to let him go with you today, but the application, the probationary period, and the final adoption order take at least a month."
McGonagall left. She couldn't wait that long. If the Ministry didn't approve her proposal, a few harmless Confundus Charms would be her answer.
Snow was piling up again at Hollysage Orphanage. The children gathered around the fireplace. Though only a few logs burned there, the fire roared to life after the green-robed figure departed.
Sallow-faced boys and girls crowded around.
"Oh, it's my Christmas wish!" a little girl cried out in delight. "Santa Claus came! He lit the fire!"
Outside, the orphanage director snorted in disbelief, unaware of the grim, hook-nosed man materializing before her. This time, her memories truly were being read.
And so, the number of figures rushing toward the Ministry became two.
Leaving the director standing dazed in the snow, wondering if her eyes were playing tricks on her...
By the fireplace.
"It's Santa Claus!"
In the perpetually bleach-scented room filled with the stale air of decay, the appearance of a white-bearded old man was a marvel to the children.
"Oh—indeed. Yes," the wizard with the long white beard chuckled.
"Can you grant our Christmas wishes?" A small boy approached, eyes shining. "I... I want some coal..."
"Santa Claus" smiled. "Of course. A very sensible Christmas wish. It shall be granted..."
And suddenly, a pile of coal appeared beside the hearth.
"Merlin's beard!"
"Amazing!"
Amidst the children's excited shouts, the old man's smile grew even kinder. His deep blue eyes gazed into the distance.
Strictly speaking, he shouldn't be here. But forgive an old man his curiosity—ah, he hadn't seen something this interesting in decades...
The excitement wasn't confined to the orphanage.
In the final week before Christmas, the castle grew rowdier and noisier by the day.
Rumors about the Christmas feast flew everywhere, though Sean disbelieved most of them—like the one about Dumbledore buying eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta at the Three Broomsticks.
Some teachers, like Professor Flitwick, seeing that the students were clearly distracted, simply stopped lecturing. He allowed them to play games in his Wednesday class while he spent most of the time talking to Sean about the finer points of charm theory.
The rest of the Room of Hope crew joined in. Harry and Ron finally realized that Professor Flitwick knew about their secret room. Seeing everyone progressing, his eyes crinkled with delight.
Other teachers, however, remained steadfast.
Professor Binns, for instance, could not be distracted. He continued to trudge through his notes on goblin rebellions. The students surmised that since death hadn't stopped Binns from teaching, a trifle like Christmas certainly wouldn't distract him.
That afternoon in the Great Hall, Sean and his friends heard the rumor about the mulled mead again. Perhaps because Dumbledore was always so dignified yet kindly, people seized any chance to involve him in gossip. The rumor spread like wildfire.
Sean, preoccupied with finishing his Howler project that afternoon and pondering his potential Alchemy talent, paid it little mind.
Ron, however, turned bright red. "I could drink five tankards!"
Outside the Room of Hope, he found he could lie with ease. It felt great.
It was like playing Wizard's Chess with Hermione. Hermione only lost at chess. Ron and Harry agreed it was good for her.
When Hermione lost, she would huff and storm off with a book. But when Sean lost, it was different. He would smile gently and say, "Ron, you really are excellent at this."
It made Ron flush with excitement.
(End of Chapter)
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