Chapter 159: Good Show

The good news is that Wizard Sean has started preparing Christmas gifts.

The bad news is that he hasn’t seen Professor McGonagall for two days, and Professor Snape has vanished too.

He guessed Professor McGonagall must be busy with that matter—but what about Professor Snape?

Wizard Sean went to the dungeons for the first time as agreed, but the professor wasn’t there.

Where had he gone?

Only Sir Cadogan remained outside the dungeons, trying to mount his pony; he was bruised and swollen, and Wizard Sean had no idea when he’d been injured.

“Oh! Little Green—how thrilling. I suppose this Christmas will bring good news, won’t it?”

“Even better news: I once persuaded a foolish fellow to repent before Gryffindor Tower, but now! Ha! He won’t have to go to Ravenclaw Tower anymore.”

Sir Cadogan strutted off, triumphant.

Only Fat Lady and Violet Lady knew what the knight meant.

It was another night of lightning and storm, and the word “Mudblood” destroyed all possibilities for two wizards.

The knight, as furious as he’d been the night before, stormed into the dungeons and roared the numb soul awake.

Waiting and apologizing at Gryffindor Tower might have been one of the bravest things the numb one ever did.

Fat Lady bit into an apple and stuck out her foot to trip the knight; she was still fuming:

“It’s heartbreaking—he, he, he can’t possibly compare to little McGonagall…”

Seeing her anger, Violet Lady could only agree:

“Don’t worry, my lady, remember—he was also someone the knight recognized…”

…

In many ways, the Ministry of Magic resembled a makeshift operation, especially regarding Muggle-wizard orphans.

After learning the day’s news, the next day, Minerva McGonagall discovered—they were following Muggle rules.

For wizard orphans born in the Muggle world with unknown identities (especially Muggle-borns), before being discovered by the magical community, they were temporarily placed under Muggle social systems.

Even after discovery, they remained under Muggle care; the magical world only intervened to enforce the International Statute of Secrecy and prevent exposure.

If lucky, the young wizard might find relatives in the wizarding world; if unlucky, like young Tom, he’d simply stay quietly at Hogwarts.

There had hardly ever been a case of a wizard adopting a Muggle-wizard orphan.

The garbage-choked streets of Croydon.

Minerva McGonagall’s usually stern gaze grew heavier with suppressed emotion.

The head of Hollyse Orphanage broke into cold sweat; the pressure from this “professor” was overwhelming.

Dressed in a green robe, with deep, piercing eyes, she sometimes felt her own memories were being read.

“You’re saying this is a long process?”

Professor McGonagall instinctively felt uneasy.

“Of course, madam. We’d be delighted to let him leave with you today, but the application, probation period, and final adoption decree require at least a month.”

Professor McGonagall left there; she couldn’t wait that long. If the Ministry denied her proposal, harmless confusion charms would be her answer.

Snow piled again on Hollyse Orphanage; the children gathered once more. Though few logs burned in the hearth, it blazed fiercely the moment the green-robed figure departed.

Yellow-faced boys and girls all rushed over.

“Oh! It was my Christmas wish!”

A little girl cried out in delight,

“Santa Claus came—he lit the fireplace!”

The head of Hollyse Orphanage scoffed outside, unaware that a grim-faced, hooked-nose man now stood before her; this time, her memories truly felt read.

Thus, the figures rushing toward the Ministry grew from one to two.

Left behind, the head of Hollyse Orphanage stood dazed, wondering if she’d imagined it all…

Meanwhile, by the hearth:

“It’s Santa Claus!”

In a room forever smelling of disinfectant, stale air hung thick. In this dim place, the appearance of a bearded old man was astonishing to the children.

“Oh—of course. Yes.”

The wizard with long, white beard smiled.

“Can you grant our Christmas wishes?”

A little boy edged closer, eyes shining,

“I… I want some coal too…”

“Santa Claus” chuckled:

“Of course. A fine Christmas wish—deserving of fulfillment…”

And indeed, coal piled up along the hearth’s edge.

“My goodness!”

“That’s amazing!”

Amid the children’s excited shouts, the long-bearded old man’s smile grew even kinder.

His deep blue eyes gazed far into the distance.

Logically, he shouldn’t have been here—but forgive an old man’s curiosity—

Ah—he hadn’t seen anything this interesting in decades…

Of course, excitement wasn’t limited to this place alone.

In the final week before Christmas, the school grew louder and livelier each day.

Rumors spread everywhere about the Christmas feast, but most of them Wizard Sean didn’t believe—like the one that Dumbledore had bought eight hundred barrels of spiced honeywine from Rosmerta at the Three Broomsticks.

Some teachers, like Professor Flitwick, seeing their students clearly distracted, simply stopped teaching.

He allowed them to play games during his Wednesday class, spending most of his time talking with Wizard Sean about the finer points of spell theory.

It would’ve been nice if everyone in the Hope Hut could come listen; Harry and Ron now learned that Professor Flitwick knew about the Hope Hut.

Seeing everyone’s progress, his eyes nearly closed with delight.

Other teachers, however, still carried out their duties faithfully.

For instance, Professor Binns’s attention couldn’t be diverted by anything—he continued laboring through his notes on eccentrics; students guessed that since death hadn’t stopped him from teaching, something as trivial as Christmas couldn’t possibly distract him.

In the afternoon’s Great Hall, Wizard Sean and the others heard more rumors about the spiced honeywine; perhaps because Headmaster Dumbledore was always so dignified and kind, no one could resist any chance to link him to gossip—and the rumor kept spreading.

Wizard Sean thought about his afternoon practice making howling letters and pondered what his alchemical talent might be; he didn’t care much.

Ron, however, turned bright red:

“I could drink five cups!”

Outside the Hope Hut, he realized he could lie now—and it felt wonderful.

It felt just like playing wizard chess with Hermione—she only lost when playing chess, and Ron and Harry both agreed it was good for her.

When Hermione lost, she’d huff and walk off with her books; but when Wizard Sean lost, he’d say gently:

“Ron, you’re really good at this.”

That would make Ron flush with excitement.

One more chapter will come a bit later—readers can check tomorrow morning.