Chapter 349: Group Activity

On the stained-glass panes like fine sand, thin streams of melted snow dripped plop-plop.

Wizard Sean was returning the greetings.

What he didn’t know was that Professor McGonagall was gazing at the gray, distant sky with a faint smile; in the dungeons, the cauldrons that rarely went cold were now cooling.

Anticipation is something special—it happens before joy arrives.

The Great Hall.

Wizard Sean tucked the planned map into a beautifully wrapped box; for the other box, he placed his notes on the potion rituals he had studied and refined over these days.

Poor Bai Yi—just barely regained some strength, and now she had to go deliver letters again.

After handling the higher-priority return gifts, Wizard Sean received many unexpected presents.

Most of Hogwarts’ young witches and wizards sent him thank-you letters, mixed with small round fruit tarts, Christmas cakes, and nut brittle candies:

【Mr. Green, thank you for your notes】

【Green’s notes will be my favorite book of all time】

【Your section on Magic History during the Merlin Era isn’t complete yet—oh no, I mean, Mr. Green, Merry Christmas】

There were so many letters that Wizard Sean took two quills at once to reply.

To the left of the Christmas tree, Jia Jia Siting and the others were still whispering.

“Professor? Is it the one I’m thinking of?”

Hermione looked curiously at Jia Jia Siting—if anyone among the young witches and wizards would know more, it was him.

“I doubt it’s Snape.”

Ron snorted; Snape had even confiscated their Quidditch Through the Ages.

Everyone knew he despised Quidditch.

“Maybe.”

Jia Jia Siting nodded gently.

Harry and Ron didn’t understand Jia Jia Siting’s riddle, but they didn’t press; instead, they began unwrapping gifts.

Harry’s small package came from the Dursleys.

They sent him a broomstick, along with a short note asking if he’d like to stay at Hogwarts over the summer.

“Impossible… I’d love to…”

Harry stared at the note, then at the broom; his usual irritation melted like snow, and for a moment he was dazed.

The Dursleys didn’t know the difference between magical brooms and ordinary ones—they assumed all brooms could fly—but it didn’t matter; when Harry looked at the broom, he would understand that his aunt and uncle knew he loved flying brooms.

He stared blankly for a long while before beginning to unwrap the other gifts.

Hagrid sent him a large bag of syrup toffees; Harry decided to warm them by the fire before eating; Ron gave him a book called Flying with the Chudley Cannons, full of details about his favorite Quidditch team; Hermione bought him a luxurious eagle-feather quill.

Harry opened his last package: it was a brand-new hand-knitted sweater from Mrs. Wei Wei Silai, along with a large raisin cake.

He held up Mrs. Wei Wei Silai’s card, and a wave of guilt surged through him—he thought of Mr. Wei Wei Silai’s car and the punishment notice.

As he thought, a letter fell out:

【Dear, don’t worry about the car—it came back on its own.

—Love, Mo Li】

In an instant, Harry felt the fire roaring fiercely, driving away the winter chill.

“Alright, Harry, are you ready?”

Jia Jia Siting suddenly spoke up.

“Yes.”

Harry quickly replied.

He turned his head and saw Ron grinning at him; Hermione had picked up a package, and even Neville had stood up holding a gift box.

They exchanged glances and surrounded Wizard Sean.

Wizard Sean was still replying to letters when he noticed the mischievous glances from the young witches and wizards.

What are they planning?

Wizard Sean regarded them with calm, slightly puzzled green eyes; Hermione was the first to break:

“Wizard Sean, Merry Christmas—did you forget our gift?—idiot—”

She placed a neatly wrapped paper box on the table.

“This is our second winter together, Wizard Sean. Merry Christmas.”

Jia Jia Siting beamed and placed an identical box on Wizard Sean’s table.

Then came Harry, Ron, Neville…

Wizard Sean saw the boxes pile higher and higher until Neville couldn’t fit another one on top—only when Jia Jia Siting reminded him did he remember he was a wizard—he hastily cast a levitation charm to lift it up.

Warm, dry snow drifted gently from the ceiling; the pile of gifts Wizard Sean received reached as high as the Christmas tree.

The young witches and wizards, as if having completed a fun group activity, gathered again around the fire, chattering away.

Occasionally, Ron let out a shout—Wizard Sean had given him a brand-new, bizarre wizard chess set;

Or Neville, who, under everyone’s encouragement, turned into a fat orange cat and scampered around.

Hermione and Jia Jia Siting chased after it nonstop.

“It’s all your fault, Ron!”

Hermione shot Ron a glare between breaths—it was his idea.

Ron had been happily chasing the fat orange cat, but his cheer quickly faded:

“Scabbers! Oh no! Get—Neville—off—him—”

Ron panicked.

Neville’s paws were scrabbling at Scabbers.

Ron grabbed Scabbers’ tail with one hand and reached for Neville with the other—but his hand hit the corner of Harry’s table; the pudding on the table jolted.

Ron clutched his hand and howled in pain.

…

It was a joyful Christmas.

Wizard Sean looked at the young witches’ and wizards’ gifts, his green eyes slightly unfocused.

—Five sweaters. Hermione had added a scarf; Jia Jia Siting had slipped in a pair of gloves.

“My mother said—”

It was Jia Jia Siting’s voice, coming from a letter,

“The most important thing is that when snow falls, good news lands where it’s lowest.”

Wizard Sean looked up; the young witches and wizards were speaking in unison.

Jia Jia Siting led them; Hermione’s face was flushed from exertion; Harry held the orange cat Neville, trying to coax Scabbers’ tail out; and Ron, pitifully, tugged at Scabbers while forcing a weak smile.

“Aubergine!”

Colin had appeared out of nowhere; this first-year student, quick as a flash, snapped a special photo.

Now everyone could see Wizard Sean’s lips curled high in a smile.

On the head table, Professor Dumbledore led the young witches and wizards in singing his favorite Christmas carol; after downing cup after cup of eggnog, Hagrid’s voice grew louder and louder.

Percy didn’t notice that Fred had jinxed his prefect badge, changing its inscription to “Dunce,” and kept foolishly asking everyone why they were laughing.

Draco Malfoy, seated at the Slytherin table, loudly mocked Harry’s new sweater; when he looked at Wizard Sean, he insinuated that Wizard Sean’s sweater clearly had excellent taste—even though they were all carefully handmade by Mrs. Wei Wei Silai.

This winter.

As if to toss every once-fun memory into the fire, letting the young witches and wizards slowly roast them, bite by bite.

Second update