Chapter 167: When Gifts Are Sent and Received
Neville, too, had left the school, heading off to purchase his own wand.
With only Sean remaining in the Room of Hope, he finally felt at ease. The winter sun, shining brightly despite the cold, seemed to warm him to the core. Snowflakes drifted past his window, landing softly on his carving tools. He heard the Panel chime:
[You have practiced crafting a Cock's-comb Biscuit to the Apprentice standard. Proficiency +1]
The news was good. Sean had completed the last biscuit in his set. Once the final biscuit reached 'Novice' level, he would unlock a new Alchemy title.
In a moment of exhaustion, Sean ate two of the Mrs. Norris biscuits. The room was instantly empty, save for a small black cat walking oddly in the snow-dusted corridor outside. Its white-tipped paws sank into the snow, and it lifted them quickly, shivering slightly.
In this form, Sean was exempt from the wizarding world's exhaustion, as he couldn't even sense where his magic was, let alone feel fatigued from overusing it.
With only one more night until Christmas, Sean's mind was preoccupied with a single, profound thought.
A strange thought, capable of stirring the deep waters of the Black Lake.
The usual clamor of Michael, Anthony, and Terry had ceased. The Bouncing Bulbs in the planter, no longer over-watered, seemed much healthier. The quiet focus was now broken only by the magical light of the holiday.
A snowy owl flew in, a thick, yellowed envelope clutched in its beak. Sean read it, then quickly wrote a reply. The owl flew away with his Galleons, and Sean tucked the original letter into his small wooden box. That box already held many letters, most signed by Justin, who, despite living in an era of mobile phones, still favored this traditional form of communication.
The letter Sean now held, placed carefully inside his coat, was from the distant London suburb, written by Roland Taylor, the daughter of the kind old lady.
Dear Green,
Even though it is filled with danger and uncertainty, you must choose to love. It is a great and remarkable thing to do.
—Roland Taylor
Christmas Eve. Hogwarts had grown quiet. Those who could had gone home to celebrate with family. Those who remained—Sean, Harry, Ron, and a few others—would enjoy a magnificent feast.
Sean had intended to enjoy the massive Christmas banquet, but when he woke up, the first thing he saw was a small pile of presents at the foot of his bed. He began carefully unwrapping them.
The first small box he opened contained dozens of photographs: pictures taken in the train compartment, Hermione's face still wet with tears from her birthday, warm sunlight near the Forbidden Forest, and busy scenes from the Hogwarts kitchens.
To Sean Green:
My mother says:
Traveling to a distant castle in the Scottish Highlands is like embarking on a journey.
And the meaning of that journey,
Is the unexpected encounters along the way.
I always talked about going far away,
Oh, Sean,
Do you know,
I have arrived.
The wind brought with it the sound of falling snow. Sean carefully put the letter away. In the Great Hall, winter no longer felt cold.
The second package held an enchanted firework that exploded into ribbons, filling the Ravenclaw dormitory with colour. He knew instantly who it was from. Then came the third, the fourth... Gifts were never too much.
The Great Hall.
Sean had never attended such a magnificent Christmas feast. The tables were groaning under the weight of a hundred plump roasted turkeys, mountains of potatoes, vast platters of sausages, bowls of buttered peas, and endless Christmas puddings. The array of sauces and gravies was staggering. Even better, there were huge piles of Wizarding Crackers everywhere. These weren't the paltry Muggle crackers with cheap plastic toys; these were the real deal, the kind the Weasley twins had used.
Sean pulled one. Instead of a loud bang, it let out a soft flute-like melody, engulfing the table in blue smoke. A tiny, mouse-shaped hat and several lively small pigeons burst out.
At the high table, Dumbledore had replaced his pointed wizard's hat with a flowered bonnet. He was chuckling happily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just told. He kept looking subtly towards Sean.
Sean was alone, which attracted the attention of a few students.
"Go on, Hannah," a deep-eyed witch whispered to Hannah Abbott. "He sent you a letter back. Just say thank you."
"He sends letters to everyone," Hannah mumbled, blushing. "And, Sally-Anne, it was because Mr. Longbottom brought the Herbology Guide, and I felt I should thank him..."
The Hufflepuffs adored Mr. Green, primarily because of the Herbology Guide. Unlike the vague textbooks, Sean's guide was accurate, comprehensive, and engaging. The first page read: [Dedicated to every wizard who loves nature. Visiting the greenhouse is not mandatory, nor is talent. When you are willing to pick up the trowel, Herbology truly begins.]
"Go on! Go on!" The girls urged Hannah closer. Dumbledore's smile grew wider.
Then, Ron came barreling over. "Christmas, Sean! You won't believe what Harry got!" He sat down, oblivious to the women he had scared away. "Don't forget, you got a sweater from Mrs. Weasley too..." Harry blushed, then immediately made Ron blush as well.
"She insisted I give you one," Ron said. "It's… well, it's not bad, is it?"
"Very warm. Mrs. Weasley is a good knitter," Sean said. He now had seven sweaters, enough for every day of the week.
"Happy Christmas!"
"Hey, look! Sean and Harry both got Weasley jumpers!" Fred and George popped up, both wearing identical blue jumpers with yellow F and G initials.
(End of Chapter)
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