days at Hogwarts

Chapter 594 Late 1995
Open the door and enter the house.

The bright lights came into my eyes, the rich aroma of fried meat hit my face, and all the fatigue from the journey disappeared.

The moment Hermione entered the room, she threw away her composure as Miss Know-It-All. She handed her thick coat to Loren beside her, her eyes narrowed into crescents as she smiled, and ran into the kitchen excitedly, "Mom! I'm back!"

Then Monica's helpless voice came from the kitchen: "My dear Hermione, I can't cook with you hugging me like this..."

"hey-hey……"

"What's the latest news?"

Loren hung his coat on the hanger behind the door and walked towards Wendell, who was reading a newspaper at the dining table. With his emotional intelligence, he would definitely not let the atmosphere become awkward. "When I came back, I saw people protesting outside the station. They didn't even take a break on Christmas. Did they announce some new policy?"

"It's not a new policy. It was enacted last year. They're making a fuss now because the next general election is about to start."

When the topic did not involve fishing, Wendell was still the calm dentist. "Nothing noteworthy, let's talk about your magic school. How was your semester?"

"It should be relatively calm. The Ministry of Magic is still the same. It doesn't look like a government at all..."

"..."

In most cases, keyboard politics and denouncing the stupidity of those in power always successfully opened up conversations between the men. As Bates, who had parked his car behind, entered the house and joined in, the discussion became more and more heated.

"Shut up and eat, gentlemen."

Monica, wearing an apron and thick gloves, held the soup pot that had just been opened. The steam made the lights in the restaurant a little dim. "You finally went home for Christmas, Loren. I thought you were going to stay at school again. Try the red wine stewed beef I made according to the recipe. Hmm... It seems that I didn't add enough red wine."

"I think it tastes perfect," Hermione retorted from the sidelines.

"Oh! You ate in advance!" Loren deliberately dragged out his tone, "You kept talking about dinner at home on the train. Did you plan it on the way? You are such a cunning guy!"

Monica asked her husband to go to the kitchen to serve the food. She sat next to the two of them with a smile on her face and sighed in a sad tone, "So that's how it is. No wonder Hermione went straight to the kitchen when she got home."

"Mother……"

Hermione knew they were teasing her, but she still pulled her mother's arm and shook it. Her eyes were sparkling in the light, and the warm water vapor stuck a strand of hair to the corner of her mouth.

Strictly speaking, British food is always the same. The main dishes are nothing more than fried beef and mutton steaks in different ways, and various meat pies, accompanied by some vegetables and fruits cooked in monotonous ways. The staple food, bread, is enough to fill you up.

Such dishes are not bad, nor are they breathtaking. They just fill your stomach and make you feel warm and don’t want to move.

After dinner, Loren sat on the sofa and listened to their conversation, mainly Bates and Wendell, about the next prime minister, the differences between the Labour Party and the Conservative Party, the Queen's health and so on.

Hermione came out of the kitchen and sat next to him, handing him a portion of apple pudding. "It's also made according to the recipe by mom. I used the freezing spell to speed up the solidification process a little bit. Try it."

"Tsk! Another useful little trick of magic from Professor Granger."

Loren scooped a spoonful and put it in his mouth. It was cool and a little sweet.

"Is it tasty?"

Loren saw Monica's expectant look from the corner of his eye. Although he didn't like apple-flavored pudding very much, he still tasted it attentively, nodded, and said in a loud voice:
"It's delicious. The apple flesh is still crisp and the sweetness is just right. The pudding is also just the right consistency, not too soft or too hard..."

"As long as you like it, this is my first time doing it..."

Monica had a peaceful expression, and looked at Loren with a gentler gaze, "How long will you stay at home this vacation?"

"About a week."

Hermione held an apple in her mouth, her voice a little slurred, "We are going to our friend's house on Boxing Day, the 26th, to help with the wedding arrangements. It's a wedding for a pure-blood wizard and a Muggle lady. It should be very interesting."

"A wizard's wedding..."

Watching the two people fighting for the last piece of pudding, Monica couldn't help but smile as she thought of something.

……

November 12th, the winter solstice.

When I woke up in the morning, I found that the sky had suddenly cleared up and turned a bright, dazzling egg-white color. The sun was warm, and the snow was glittering and reflective. The bright scene made my breathing a little smoother.

Loren wore a striped sweater on the outside. The main body was thick black and white stripes, and blue-brown thin stripes were unevenly interspersed. The style was loose and the temperament was lazy.

They took over the task of decorating the Christmas tree from their parents.

Hermione was wearing a sweater of the same style, in a softer beige color. She was holding a star ornament she had cut out from colored paper in her hand, and was tiptoeing slightly to hang it on a high branch. She looked focused and meticulous, and the sweater was pulled by the force, outlining the beautiful curve of her waist.

Battery-powered colored lights, brightly colored glass ornaments, artificial plastic colored flowers...

Loren took a branch of mistletoe and slowly hung it on the door frame, glancing at the girl who was hanging holly from time to time: "Some things should be done by yourself."

"uh-huh……"

Hermione was concentrating on decorating the wall, in a happy mood, and she was fully aware of his straying gaze. "You know, Loren, the custom of using holly as Christmas decoration may have evolved from the ancient Roman custom. At that time, the Romans would celebrate the year's harvest in mid-December. The small thorns on the holly symbolize protection, and the berries symbolize the harvest."

"I don't know about that, but I know some customs related to mistletoe..." Loren hung the branches, straightened his slightly wrinkled sweater, and walked towards Hermione, who was adjusting the angle of the branches.

"What custom?"

"Young men and women in love will be blessed if they kiss under the mistletoe." Loren tiptoed and reached out to help Holly straighten her.

"!!"

Hermione turned quickly, staring at him with a vigilant look, and glanced at the mistletoe branches behind her.

There is a second half to this strange custom. After kissing, you need to pick a fruit. After picking all the fruits, you are not allowed to kiss again.

Unfortunately, the small white berries of the mistletoe are crowded together in groups of three or two, and there are no less than a hundred of them at a glance.

"..."

Hermione was silent for a while, and her cheeks began to turn red and hot.

A smile gradually appeared on Loren's face. He lowered his head slightly and looked at her. The shadow cast by her long eyelashes fell into her eyes, and the clear reflection was filled with water-like shyness.

Holly branches with small red fruits and mistletoe branches with small white berries add a touch of color to the monotonous winter. The dazzling white light shines on the branches, and the shadows of the branches and leaves along the wall are like a small tree growing wantonly, bright flowers blooming elsewhere, and two embracing figures are cast on the plain white wall.

……

Christmas Eve, Hogwarts. After the sun sets, the temperature becomes even colder. In the clock tower west of the castle, the low sound of the old clock penetrates through the layers of clouds, and the tail tone trembles and lingers for a long time.

In the headmaster's office, Dumbledore was sitting in front of the fire like a child, warming himself by the fire with a smile on his face, staring at the sugar cube melting in the cup.

Snape sat in front of the desk and spoke softly, "Malfoy invited many officials to the Boxing Day dinner. They planned to use the Imperius Curse to control Fudge at the banquet and take control of the Ministry of Magic and Azkaban."

"More urgent than I expected. I thought Voldemort would wait until he got the prophecy or... a new wand before taking action."

Dumbledore took a sip from his cup and let out a long sigh of relief. "So how does he plan to deal with an old man like me, and how does he deal with his destined nemesis who has thwarted him so many times?"

"Lure Potter to break into the Department of Mysteries and force him to take down the prophecy. As for you..." Snape turned his head to look at the headmaster, frowning slightly, "He has no plan, at least he didn't tell me his plan to deal with you."

"Hmm...it seems like he hasn't given you his full trust yet."

“He won’t trust anyone.”

"Just as we expected." Dumbledore sighed, as if he felt it was a pity. "So... do you have any clues about the number and whereabouts of the Horcruxes?"

"No, not a single bit of valuable information." Snape's voice was calm and expressionless. "That night I tested the number of Horcruxes, and his answer was the more the better. Each Horcrux is a sharp arrow that pierces the heart of Death."

Dumbledore shook his head and said calmly, "He didn't defeat Death... No matter how cold a soul is, it can't be divided infinitely. There must be a special number..."

The orange-red firelight illuminated his azure eyes. Dumbledore paused, and there was a hint of laughter in his voice: "I remembered an old friend..."

"Who?"

Dumbledore did not answer for a moment, but just stared at the flames and nodded gently, as if sorting out the thoughts in his mind. After a long time, he slowly turned his head and said, "Severus, I think students cannot do without a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, what do you think?"

Snape's expression became a little subtle, and his dead eyes became rippled: "What do you mean?"

"I have a brilliant idea, but I plan to let you know next semester." Dumbledore seemed to have remembered something interesting, with a smile in his voice.

"..."

Snape looked at him quietly, not wanting to continue the topic: "Rookwood is leading people to search for the person in the photo. It is said that they have been found in Godric's Hollow. Do you need me to investigate the details?"

Dumbledore held the cup and did not reply immediately. The dancing flames seemed to transform into long golden hair, evoking unknown and profound memories. After a long silence, he slowly shook his head:

"Let them find it."

……

In the basement kitchen, elves wearing aprons were running around working, preparing for tomorrow's Christmas dinner.

With the turkey covered in sauce and the meats and vegetables cut and frozen, the professors’ favorite dishes are ready to cook…

"Alas……"

Dobby was holding a package and running as fast as he could, his thin figure turning around in the basement kitchen again and again, his happy heart looking like it was about to fly out at any time.

"Dobby is a free elf!"

"Dobby gets a Christmas present every year!"

He really wanted to take a close look at the envious expressions on every elf's face and then record them all with a camera.

Unfortunately, the other elves also received gifts from Dumbledore. They were moved but felt guilty, thinking that Dobby had misled and deceived the headmaster. They did not need gifts. How could qualified house-elves cause trouble to their employer?

It’s all Dobby’s fault, it’s all Dobby’s fault!

"..."

Shanshan, who was sitting next to the fireplace, picked up the unwrapped greeting card on the ground and stopped him when he passed by: "There is another part later. Mr. Potter said that his godfather is going to hold a wedding and wants your help."

"Wedding!" Dobby's eyes lit up, "Mr. Potter invited Dobby to the wedding. Dobby is a guest!"

Another round of running with cheers.

Xiaomai, who was not far away, looked at his cheering figure with clear envy in his eyes.

If we go back to a year ago, he would be just as happy when he received the Christmas gift from Mr. Morgan. He would laugh out loud and show off to a few elves he was on good terms with. He would quietly pretend not to care and sneak a glance at their envious expressions, secretly happy in his heart.

but now……

Next to him lay an unopened package, which contained, as expected, another headache-inducing history book. Attached to the package were two beautiful greeting cards, with fine workmanship and exquisite designs, and the edges were hollowed out with stripes of holly branches and leaves.

One was from Mr Morgan and one was from Miss Granger.

……

The fog in the forbidden forest grew thicker, and the flying snowflakes became more dense.

Hagrid took off the scarf around his neck, changed into pajamas and shoes, and put on a nightcap, all made of wool. He had lost count of how many sheep Grawp had eaten in the past six months, but his bedding and winter clothes were all made of wool. He even had enough left over to knit a scarf for Harry and Loren as Christmas gifts.

"Grop's cave could use some wool blankets, too."

He also considered building a wooden house for Grawp, but the fragile building material could not withstand the impact of the giant turning over, so he had to give up.

Grawp is now placed in a cave not far from the nest of the Acromantula, and the two sides get along peacefully.

Hagrid muttered something and sat down in front of the fire to get some hot oatmeal.

The firewood was a little wet and the fire was not strong enough. He moved forward close to the fire, pointed with the small pink umbrella, and the burst of flames immediately jumped up and burned a wisp of his beard.

The fireplace is quite old, having been built by the previous gamekeeper. Some carvings can still be seen in the part blackened by the ashes, and the story of the four giants establishing the school can be vaguely recognized.

"Should I take Grawp to the Christmas party..."

"Although Dumbledore agreed, Professor McGonagall..."

Somehow, Hagrid suddenly had a picture of Professor Flitwick sitting with Grawp in his mind, and he couldn't help but chuckle, laughing so hard that he couldn't stop coughing.

Christmas of 1995 arrived amid such laughter.

(End of this chapter)