Christmas Eve

On December 23, the clouds that had been piling up for more than half a month finally broke open, letting the long-blocked sunlight fall on the snow. The crystalline light, reflected off the white snow, was so bright that it was almost impossible to open one's eyes.

Almost a week has passed since the Basilisk Incident. The Board of Governors and the Ministry of Magic still haven't sent anyone to investigate, and things don't seem as urgent as Snape has made them out to be.

Loren's guess was that the Crabbe family was pulling strings to try and exonerate Vincent Crabbe.

However, none of this concerned Loren and the others at school. They were immersed in the increasingly festive atmosphere and eagerly awaited the arrival of Christmas.

Hogwarts Castle, the Hospital Wing.

Sunlight streamed in through the gridded glass, illuminating the entire room.

Madam Pomfrey moved the petrified Colin and Justin to the window so they could bask in the long-lost sun.

There was no one else in the Hospital Wing. Hermione's cubicle curtain had been pulled up by Loren, who had simply tied it with a bandage, so the sunlight shone directly onto Hermione's bed without obstruction.

Under the warm, bright sunlight, each fine Cat Hair glittered with a crystalline light.

Hermione kept her promise and reviewed the Transfiguration Club knowledge points with Loren, forcing him to memorize the notes at her pace.

Hermione's curled-up little paws made it difficult to flip through the notebook, so she used both hands as book supports, while Loren did the turning of the pages. The two leaned against the headboard, shoulder to shoulder, heads close together, occasionally whispering a few words about the contents of the notebook.

Bright, warm sunlight filled the room. The quiet Hospital Wing was filled only with the sound of notebooks turning pages, and every now and then, the two whispered to each other.

Although there was no one else in the Hospital Wing, they still subconsciously lowered their voices.

The sun was warm, and perhaps due to the effects of the Polyjuice Potion, Hermione's eyelids started to droop after a while in the sun.

"On stormy nights, the mixture in the crystal vial will turn blood red..." Loren read softly, suddenly feeling the weight of a small head on his shoulder, fluffy cat ears pressing against his cheek, bringing a ticklish sensation.

Hearing Hermione's breathing gradually become longer, Loren raised his hand and gently nudged Hermione's head, whispering, "Hey, you're studying, why are you asleep?"

Hermione's throat made a soft gurgling sound; she was languid and clearly already in a daze.

"How can you sleep while studying?" Loren shifted his body and nudged her slightly.

"Don't move!" Hermione muttered. She couldn't figure out what was going on, but she felt that the sunlight and the soft cushion made it exceptionally comfortable to sleep on.

"That's just how cats are..." she mumbled sleepily, then rested her head on Loren's shoulder and drifted off to sleep in the warm sunshine.

For some reason, Loren suddenly felt very good, just like the sunshine. He also felt that the scene was perfect for sleeping. Loren shifted his position on the hospital bed, pulled the blanket up slightly, and the two of them drifted off to sleep together in the bright sunlight...

After an unknown amount of time, Loren was the first to wake up from his sleep.

The once golden sunlight had begun to turn yellow and its brightness was waning as the sun slowly sank behind the western hills.

Hermione's breathing remained long and even, with soft, gentle snores coming from her throat.

After watching for a while, Loren saw Hermione's long eyelashes tremble, but she did not open her eyes or wake up.

Hermione felt a pang of embarrassment. She was the one who offered to supervise Loren's studying, but she ended up slacking off and even falling asleep...

Damn it, this man will definitely make fun of me. Hermione could feel his scrutinizing gaze. She didn't open her eyes, pretending to still be asleep, trying to get away with it. She planned to wake up after Loren left, and then pretend nothing had happened.

Noticing the change in her breathing rhythm, but seeing that the little Witch was still pretending to be asleep, Loren pursed his lips and smiled silently.

Hermione didn't notice that a fluffy little tail was restlessly sticking out from under the covers, dangling by the bedside, swaying back and forth...

"Could cats and tails really be two different creatures? I need to investigate," Loren muttered to himself, finding an excuse for his actions.

He reached out, scooped up the constantly swaying long tail, and gently pinched it. Although it looked fluffy and had a certain size, when the fluffy fur was pressed down, there was actually a rather thin tail inside, soft and seemingly without much strength.

Loren twirled it lightly, and the tail suddenly tensed, slipping from his hand amidst its smooth fur.

Loren, engrossed in petting the cat, didn't think twice and grabbed its tail again, pulling it back.

... and slipped away again in an instant.

Loren sensed something was wrong and turned to look at Hermione, who should have been sleeping.

Hermione had opened her eyes at some point, her big, round eyes staring at him without blinking, her eyes filled with confusion.

Suddenly, Hermione tilted her head, controlled the tail to lift up, and voluntarily crawled into his palm.

So Loren casually slid down from the middle of the tail to the tip.

Hermione remained silent, so Loren pretended not to know and earnestly lowered his head to play with the little tail.

The platinum-gold sunlight turned a vibrant red, sweeping across the sky and casting a hazy glow that illuminated the branches of the Forbidden Forest with a crimson light.

Hermione finally pushed him away with disgust and tucked her little tail back under the covers. "The school allows pets. You can go to Diagon Alley and buy a cat. We saw one last time."

Loren stood up, looked at the sunset outside the window, and stretched his drowsy body.

"Are you really not planning to attend the Christmas Feast?" When he sat down again, Loren seemed to have completely forgotten his earlier behavior and naturally started the next topic.

Compared to a week ago, Hermione has lost a lot of body hair, but it certainly won't be back to normal before the Christmas Feast.

"Clumsy attempt at changing the subject..." Hermione rolled her eyes in disdain and said irritably, "It depends. If the cat's features aren't that obvious, I can wear a hood and a robe to cover them up."

Loren nodded. "Definitely no problem!"

"Whispering sound!"

As the sun sets and night falls, darkness gradually descends.

Compared to schools, adult wizards' Christmas holidays start later and are naturally shorter.

Inside the Ministry of Magic, staff from various departments handed over their remaining work to colleagues on holiday duty. With the Christmas holidays approaching, everyone wore bright smiles as they said goodbye.

Throughout the Ministry of Magic, all staff members, big and small, received invitations to the Malfoy Manor dinner party. Those on duty and unable to attend the banquet received exquisite Christmas gift boxes from Malfoy.

Everyone praised Mr. Lucius Malfoy's generosity.

Barty Crouch finished his day's work, and despite being physically and mentally exhausted, his short gray hair was still neatly combed. The entire day's work did not affect the image of the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

After handing over his work, Barty Crouch began his journey home. The golden gate slid open gently, and as soon as he stepped into the elevator, he saw Dolores Umbridge in a pink dress and a pink hair clip, with a girlish smile on her face.

Crouch frowned slightly. He had to admit that even though he could speak Mermish, Turkey, and even Troll Language, and was fluent in more than two hundred languages, Crouch still didn't know what to say when facing this woman.

Before he could speak, Umbridge pressed the floor button for him and greeted him politely in a high-pitched, girlish voice, "Mr. Crouch, Merry Christmas in advance."

Crouch nodded. "Merry Christmas, you too."

Before the elevator fell completely silent, Umbridge spoke up and asked, "Sir, I heard you declined Malfoy's invitation to dinner. Why is that?"

Before Crouch could answer, Umbridge continued in a sweet voice, "I checked the duty roster, and you're not on the list of those staying behind. I remember your wife passed away several years ago, and as for your son... ha, so I'm very curious why you declined Malfoy's dinner invitation?"

Before she could finish speaking, Crouch's teeth were already clenched tightly together, the veins in his temples were bulging, and an invisible rage was raging within him.

Crouch loosened his clenched fist and said calmly, "I just want more time to rest. After all, the Department of International Magical Cooperation already has enough social engagements."

"And what about you?" Crouch countered. "Why did Madam Umbridge volunteer to stay at the department and refuse Malfoy's invitation, preferring to remain on duty?"

"Hahahaha!" Umbridge's shrill laughter was particularly jarring in the enclosed elevator. "Of course not, I was just thinking that if I volunteered to stay, one more colleague could take a vacation and enjoy happy family time."

Her words were full of self-praise and smugness; having spearheaded the enactment of the Anti-Werewolf Law, she had recently become quite the figurehead among the high-ranking officials of the Ministry of Magic. She was determined to secure the vacant position of Senior Deputy Minister of Magic.

This current show of concern for lower-level employees is merely an attempt to reduce obstacles to promotion.

"After all, I've always been a considerate person to my colleagues," Umbridge said insincerely.

The chains rattled, and the elevator finally arrived. Crouch strode quickly out of the elevator. Umbridge followed behind him, seemingly wanting to say something to him.

Crouch's eyes lit up as he noticed the only person in the Entrance Hall: Arthur Weasley of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office.

"Thank you Merlin..." Crouch thought to himself, and quickly responded, saying warmly, "Oh, look who's in such a hurry to get home? Arthur Weasley, your Christmas must be very lively, I'm so envious."

Looking at the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Arthur, who had just finished work, was a little confused. When did he become so familiar with Crouch?

However, the Weasley family have many children and a harmonious family, which is well-known in the Ministry of Magic. Since they've come up to say nice things, it's not easy to turn them away.

Unaware that Umbridge's expression was gradually darkening, Mr. Weasley smiled and said, "No way! We're planning to visit our son in Egypt this holiday, so we've left the other kids at Hogwarts for Christmas. They're probably having a blast at school by now."

Crouch remembered Vincent Crabbe, though it wasn't his job, he knew a little about him.

Anyway, putting Umbridge aside is the important thing right now, so he took the initiative to ask, "It seems like something has happened at Hogwarts recently. It would be best if the children were brought back."

Mr. Crouch is a good man, but his son Little Crouch... Arthur didn't think any further. He chuckled Hānhan and said, "Don't forget, Dumbledore the headmaster of Hogwarts. I believe there's nowhere safer than the school."

"Hmm, that makes sense. When do you plan to leave?"

"Leaving first thing tomorrow morning."

"Have you completed the immigration procedures?"

"It was all done a week in advance, don't worry."

Crouch and Arthur walked away, exchanging a few words. Umbridge stared at their retreating figures with a gloomy gaze, then suddenly broke into a sweet, relieved smile.

Who cares about your attitude? Power is the most important thing...

The thick black night slowly enveloped the entire world. The weather was fine today, and there were no thick clouds to obscure the sky. The cool starlight and moonlight drifted down from the sky, coldly illuminating the snow-covered world.

Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire is ablaze with lights tonight.

Hundreds of candles, taller than a person, floated in mid-air, radiating a variety of beautiful lights. Food filled the long table, the air was filled with the sweet aroma of wine, and young men and women danced joyfully on the dance floor.

Veela, the Weird Sisters band, Quidditch players... the generous Mr. Lucius Malfoy displays the Malfoy family's wealth to the fullest.

While the banquet was in full swing and everyone was enjoying themselves, a completely different scene was unfolding on a remote island far out at sea.

In Azkaban, in a special cell, fine wire mesh sealed the entire room, with streaks of powerful electricity occasionally flashing across it.

Wormtail Peter, swollen and covered in bruises, lay listlessly on the floor in the center of the room. His beard and hair looked like they had been chewed by a dog, and clear shoe prints remained on the bald patch on his head. He looked disheveled and unkempt.

The cell door suddenly opened, and a figure wearing a cloak floated in from outside. His whole body looked like a corpse that had been soaking in water, and he smelled of rotting mud.

The Dementor are back... Wormtail Peter felt a chill run down his spine. He trembled all over, and remembering the torment the Dementor had inflicted, he struggled to resist the urge to turn into a rat and hide.

Because if he used Animagus to avoid the soul torment of the Dementor, he would be physically tortured by the wizards guarding him, which is how he got all those scars.

He couldn't completely avoid the Dementor, nor could he let the guards kill him. After nearly a year of torment, Wormtail Peter gradually figured out a way to barely survive.

Inside the room, Wormtail Peter endured as the Dementor drained the happy emotions and memories from his mind, until just before he was about to completely lose consciousness, his body began to twist and shrink into a fingerless, shriveled rat.

How ironic that the happiest memories that surfaced most in his mind were the time he spent with Prongs ... Wormtail thought sadly before falling into a coma once again.

The food in front of it suddenly vanished, and the Dementor floating in the air seemed momentarily confused, completely bewildered by the situation. It stood there blankly for a while, then finally retreated in frustration.

After the Dementor's figure disappeared into the distance, a man in a well-tailored suit entered the cell, stayed for less than a minute, and then came out with a look of disgust.

He seized the opportunity and acted swiftly.

A long distance away, an ordinary wizard guard waiting outside the prison door went to greet him, unaware of his superior's subtle gesture of clutching his pocket.

The Junior Guard smiled obsequiously and said, "Don't worry, Deputy Director, Mr. Moody specifically instructed us to keep a close eye on him."

Upon hearing this, the Deputy Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement unleashed his fury, roaring, "Moody, Moody! Moody! Putting aside the fact that he's already retired, when did he, a member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, have any say in Azkaban? Or do you want to become Aurors under his wing?"

The Junior Guard was bewildered, completely unaware of why the Deputy Director had suddenly become so angry. But being Aurors was nowhere near as comfortable as slacking off in Azkaban, so he quickly lowered his head sheepishly and admitted his mistake. "I'm sorry, sir."

The Deputy Minister's tone softened considerably, and his expression was no longer so rigid. "Don't do anything unnecessary in the future. As long as this rat is still in the ward, even if it dies, don't worry about it. He's a henchman of the Dark Lord who has been lurking for many years. Who knows if he's gotten himself into any trouble? Don't you think so?"

"You're right, sir. We won't do anything unnecessary from now on."

The Deputy Minister nodded and asked with gentle concern, "If I remember correctly, you're getting married next year, right? Why aren't you spending Christmas with your fiancée?"

The Junior Guard scratched his head. "I want to save up more money for our honeymoon next year."

"Hmm, Avery's daughter, is that right? Hahaha..."

The festive atmosphere rose in a sea of joy, and no one noticed the crippled rat in Azkaban's special cell; the wound on its front paw seemed fresh, and its fur was much cleaner...