Chapter 379

The night was long, the stars brilliant.

Hogwarts Castle, in ink-black darkness, glowed with a tranquil blue.

The corridors were nearly empty.

Only occasional members of the Castle Cat Club passed by.

They chattered excitedly, their words filled with envy for Harry and Ginny’s dream encounters.

Unfortunately, Christmas had passed so long ago, yet they had made not the slightest progress.

The black cat, guardian of fortune, had not visited anyone’s dreams again.

It was as if the story had truly been nothing but a beautiful dream.

On Xiang Xiang Xien’s chest, the Wizard’s Book and the Soul Relic hung, swaying gently in the breeze.

Beside him, Jia Jia Siting and Hermione walked with light steps.

The diadem had been destroyed.

Their faces bore visible joy—though Voldemort might yet return, if they continued like this…

Struggle, struggle, and struggle again, and Voldemort might never return.

Yet at the same time, they had countless questions.

“Horcruxes—Voldemort’s means of resurrection—what is their principle?”

Hermione asked cautiously.

Xiang Xiang Xien paused, shook his head slightly at Hermione, and said nothing.

As described in The Most Toxic Magic, this was a topic not to be discussed.

Even Headmaster Dumbledore, when necessary, had told only Harry and his two companions.

After all, it was the temptation of immortality.

Such secrets were best buried in the hearts of those unlikely to be shaken.

“Hermione, please, Xiang Xiang Xien isn’t omniscient—perhaps we should ask Headmaster Dumbledore?”

Jia Jia Siting blinked.

Hermione fell silent. In truth, both she and Jia Jia Siting understood one thing: Xiang Xiang Xien likely knew—and he always knew more than anyone else.

Whether because of his extraordinary insight or his deep thinking, the result was that the number of secrets he knew rivaled even Headmaster Dumbledore’s.

If the Castle Cat Club unfurled a banner declaring that the lucky black cat knew everything about Hogwarts and was its true embodiment, they could not have agreed more.

But that also meant he thought more than they did.

If Xiang Xiang Xien chose not to speak, beyond a small disappointment, Hermione and Jia Jia Siting were left only with their usual trust.

With curfew approaching, members of the Castle Cat Club were slowly, sadly returning.

The three walked in silence, occasionally hearing Mrs. Norris’s cat calls and the creak of armor.

“Guys, cheer up—we’ve stopped the Dark Lord’s return again.”

Jia Jia Siting, looking at Hermione lost in thought and Xiang Xiang Xien quietly reading, said with quiet enthusiasm.

“Yes, again.”

Hermione’s mind was filled with many thoughts. If someone counted, they would know that in just over a year, they had faced Voldemort three times.

Each time, the danger was immense.

It made her wonder: was Hogwarts truly the safest place?

If so, why did they always come back dusty and bruised every year?

From Voldemort possessing Professor Quirrell, to his diary, to the corrupted diadem…

She had seen that terrible, smoke-wreathed head.

She had no doubt that if Xiang Xiang Xien had not been fully prepared, it would have caused massive destruction.

“In the end, we won again.”

Jia Jia Siting said.

“But what if one day… we lose?”

Hermione fell silent for a long moment before asking, her gaze never leaving Xiang Xiang Xien.

The young wizard walked quietly, the moonlight stretching his shadow long.

“Then we lose together.”

Jia Jia Siting smiled, finished slowly, and strode after him.

Hermione stood still, lips tightly pressed, then hurried after them.

At that moment, Hogwarts had no headmaster, no professors—only the three of them.

In this winter, beside fire and books, they reaffirmed their unchanging resolve, again and again.

The night was growing deeply dark.

Outside the castle, rain fell with snow.

But the wizards here did not care about the rain,

for their lives had always been under unceasing rain.

…

Christmas break lasted over three weeks.

During this break, young wizards played freely, and the newly published Green Notes allowed them to complete their assignments effortlessly.

Of course, it would be better if Mr. Green simply wrote out the answers—then they could even skip the step of understanding.

In the Cottage of Hope.

Hermione looked curiously at the notes she had helped compile; The Daily Prophet claimed they were sufficient for inclusion by the Ministry of Magic, and the Ministry was reportedly considering it.

As she entered the room, book in hand, she found Xiang Xiang Xien and Jia Jia Siting standing there, both holding books, Jia Jia Siting startled.

“Ah, this is the true face of the Cottage of Hope…”

In Xiang Xiang Xien’s hands was his usual reading, The Book of Ghosts; he had anticipated the Cottage’s changes, but was still slightly surprised.

Not to mention Hermione and Jia Jia Siting, who had returned early.

“What a huge kitchen.”

Hermione exclaimed, overwhelmed.

Before her, the Cottage of Hope had changed dramatically—though the main area they had decorated remained unchanged, a small door had appeared behind it, leading to a vast kitchen.

It was warm, polished to a brilliant shine.

All facilities were present: an automatic stirring pot on the hearth, various ovens arranged beside warped flames, shelves glittering with ribbons and lanterns, piled high with countless ingredients…

On top of the refrigerator sat breakfast pudding: a huge mound of whipped cream, with violets dusted in powdered sugar; a large roast sizzled inside the oven.

Even a small garden had appeared, perfect for seasonal flowers to bloom fiercely even in winter.

Xiang Xiang Xien naturally understood this was the dining area, but more than the garden, he was concerned by the sudden appearance of ingredients.

“Mr. Owl, is this the Hogwarts kitchen?”

Xiang Xiang Xien asked.

His voice echoed, and only then did the blissful Jia Jia Siting and astonished Hermione notice the owl portrait that had entered the room.

“Clearly, I moved it from the portrait—”

Mr. Owl said, tilting his head.

“Oh, is that so?!”

Jia Jia Siting exclaimed in sudden understanding.

“…Utterly hopeless”

The owl portrait had long known this boy always trusted owls too much.

“But the kitchen won’t…”

Hermione, after her initial delight, grew uneasy.

“Foolish young wizards—your demands are trivial…”

The owl portrait snorted, then sneered.