Slughorn's Christmas Party

After the holidays began, the corridors and passageways became much more spacious. The professors rarely showed themselves, and the Castle's Great Hall and Common Rooms had become entirely the territory of the students staying behind. No one had to fight over the most comfortable armchairs by the fire anymore. Every night, Harry and Ron could be seen sitting there, spearing all kinds of food with toasting forks and sticking them into the fireplace.

Honestly, it looked terrible.

Their grilling skills were even worse than Grawp's. The bread was charred black, the mushrooms had completely wilted, and the steaks, which had not been marinated or brushed with oil, were half-raw and covered in ash.

But they did not care about the taste and ate quite happily.

The rule against casting spells in the corridors had become little more than decoration. Silky, beautiful Belladonna Flames drifted everywhere, and someone had somehow dug up the warning magic from the Goblet of Fire. After nightfall, multicolored sparks often shot up from the courtyard like fireworks.

Perhaps Dumbledore had said something, because Mr. Filch did not discipline them much either. Sometimes, he could even be seen standing in the corridor with Mrs. Norris, watching the fireworks.

Brilliant points of light burst in the cat's crystal-clear eyes, scattering like stars.

On the evening of December 24, in the Gryffindor Common Room.

The room was not as lively as usual. No one was playing Gobstones or Exploding Snap, since they could easily dirty their clothes. The boys had combed their hair into grown-up styles, put on handsome suits, and sat on the sofas with their backs ramrod straight.

They pretended to casually discuss serious, profound topics: how Human Transfiguration could simply and effectively change the color of one's eyebrows, what preparations were needed before registering for Apparition,