Christmas Present

Harry was stunned. "Transfer schools? Why?"

"What else could it be?" Gareth shrugged. "A perfect House Points, plus a formal warning from the Board of Governors —he's done for Slytherin —I hear even his friends don't talk to him much anymore."

Harry looked toward the Slytherin Long Table.

Cassandra sat in her usual spot, eating her breakfast gracefully, as if the surrounding chatter had nothing to do with her.

But Harry noticed that the spot she had chosen today was a little further away from the other Slytherin students.

After his History of Magic in the morning, Harry ran into Ominis in the hallway.

"Potter," Ominis called after him, "Cassandra asked me to tell you that practice tonight will proceed as scheduled."

"Okay." Harry hesitated for a moment. "Mr. Gaunt, do you know about Flint's transfer?"

Ominis paused for a moment, then smiled and said, "Of course I know, it's just that his family made the choice that was best for them. In Durmstrang, the concept of Pure-blood is more deeply ingrained, and he might feel more comfortable there."

But this is not because—

"Because he bullied you?" Ominis continued, "The immediate reason is yes, but the fundamental reason is that his actions threatened Slytherin's honor and the balance between certain families."

He paused.

"Sometimes, a seemingly minor conflict can reveal a much larger problem. The Flint family has been losing influence in recent years, and this incident gives other families an opportunity to reassess their value."

Harry processed these words. He had never imagined that a conflict in the hallway would cause such a complex chain reaction.

"What about Cassandra— " Harry asked cautiously, "Will she be affected by this?"

Ominis gave a rare smile, "Cassandra Malfoy always knows what she's doing. And protecting her followers, even Muggle-born ones—regardless of the pretext—is commendable according to the code of Pure-blood families. It demonstrates her authority and sense of responsibility as pure-blood wizard."

He tapped the ground lightly with his wand. "I have to go. Anne and Sebastian are waiting for me at the library; we're studying an ancient Norse protective Runes. You can come Saturday afternoon if you're interested."

"I will." Harry nodded.

That evening at the Astronomy Tower practice, Cassandra prepared new training content.

She set up three devices that automatically launched soft magical missiles (they looked expensive) so Harry could practice casting Disarming Charm while on the move.

"Left!" Cassandra commanded.

Harry turned around quickly. "Disarming Charm!"

A beam of red light struck the missile, causing it to veer off course.

But then another one Accio from the right, which Harry barely managed to hit, and a third one came from above.

Almost instinctively, Harry didn't recite the complete modified spell, or even a single syllable; he simply flicked his wrist, and his wand pointed instinctively at the target.

A brighter and faster red beam shot out, accurately shooting down the missile.

The air suddenly became quiet.

Cassandra stopped giving the next instruction and stared at the wand in Harry's hand.

The trajectory of that red light was clearly visible in her eyes—it wasn't Disarming Charm that a beginner could cast; it was an almost instinctive, terrifyingly precise release of magic.

Harry himself was stunned. He looked at his wand, then at the missile that had been shot down.

"I—I don't know how—"

"One more time." Cassandra's voice was unusually calm as she reactivated the magical device. "This time, try to replicate the feeling you just experienced."

Harry took a deep breath and focused.

When the missile came again, he tried to recreate that state, but this time, although the red light was accurate, it returned to normal intensity and speed.

"Continue," Cassandra said.

Over the next half hour, Harry successfully replicated that explosive Disarming Charm twice more.

Each time, Cassandra raised an eyebrow slightly, but she said nothing, simply calmly recording the data.

When the practice session ended, Cassandra closed her notebook, her tone as calm as ever.

"It seems you've developed some tolerance for the Disarming Charm, but don't get complacent. Such unpredictable bursts are far less valuable than controlled, consistent casting."

"Yes, Miss Malfoy." Harry nodded, but a question lingered in his mind.

That feeling was wonderful, as if the wand was an extension of his arm, and the spell was a natural reaction.

"Starting tomorrow, we'll add reaction training," Cassandra said. "You need to learn to maintain precision under pressure, not just occasional bursts."

She packed her things to leave, paused at the bottom of the stairs, but didn't look back.

"If I were you, I wouldn't display such inconsistent performance in front of others. Immature talent often does more harm than good, Potter. I don't want you to get cocky and forget your true self."

The door closed.

Harry stood alone on the Astronomy Tower, savoring the feeling he had just experienced.

That almost instinctive casting state was truly amazing, and he was also a little curious as to why he had such a strong affinity for the Disarming Charm.

Unbeknownst to him, Cassandra was walking briskly back to the Slytherin Common Room, her mind replaying Harry's astonishing spellcasting.

That wasn't just a simple talent; it was an almost intuitive magical affinity—an instinctive understanding of the concept of disarmament.

For some reason, the words her Ignatius once said suddenly came to her mind.

Truly exceptional wizards often possess a natural affinity for a particular type of magic, much like birds are born to fly and fish are born to swim.

"It seems this little guy needs more rigorous training," she muttered to herself. "We can't let him get too cocky just because of a little talent!"

During Wednesday's Charms project panel discussion, Harry and Cassandra found a quiet corner in the library.

Various historical documents and books on Magical Theory about Disarming Charm were laid out in front of them.

"According to <The History of the Evolution of Defensive Charms>," Cassandra pointed to a passage, "the Disarming Charm first appeared in 14..."

Originally a spell used in dueling rituals, intended to disarm an opponent without causing harm.

Harry read intently, then suddenly noticed a detail. "It says here that early Disarming Charm required a complete dueling ritual to take effect? Including bowing and taking several steps, and so on?"

"Yes," Cassandra nodded. "The modern version has been simplified, but the basic magical structure remains unchanged. Our goal is to further simplify the casting process."

She spread out her notebook. "I analyzed the mana consumption points during spellcasting and found that the biggest waste is in the mana gathering during the spell's initiation phase. If we could complete this part earlier—"

They discussed for over an hour, during which Harry offered several ideas, some of which Cassandra rejected, while others she pondered and then nodded in approval of.

To Harry's surprise, Cassandra, though strict, would seriously consider his suggestions as long as they were supported by a sound Magical Theory.

"This idea is worth trying," Cassandra jotted down Harry's suggestion on the Parchment. "We can conduct a preliminary test on Saturday afternoon. But now—"

She took out a delicate Pocket Watch from inside her blouse, checked the time, and said, "You should go have dinner with your Gryffindor friends—and remember, don't skip your morning practice tomorrow."

As Harry packed his things, he couldn't help but ask, "Miss Malfoy, why are you so interested in the modified Disarming Charm? I mean, there are many easier spells to choose from."

Cassandra paused for a moment, her fingers lightly tracing the cover of an old magic book. "Because it's practical. In real conflict, quickly disarming an opponent is often more effective than inflicting damage, and—"

She raised her gray eyes. "My brother's work at the Ministry of Magic exposed him to many real-life cases. The wizards who survived were often not the ones most skilled at attacking, but rather those who knew best how to quickly defuse threats."

Harry nodded, gaining a new understanding of the subject.

After leaving the library, Harry ran into Gareth and Randall in the corridor. They had just returned from the Quidditch pitch. Although there was no formal training, some students still practiced flying in private.

"Harry! Are you coming to the field tomorrow afternoon?" Gareth said excitedly. "Even though we can't play, we can practice our flying skills! I borrowed two old-fashioned Cleansweep series brooms from Mrs. Furukawa!"

"I'll go," Harry said with a smile, "As long as I can finish the exercises Malfoy assigned."

"More practice," Randall sighed dramatically. "Sometimes I feel like you've really become an unofficial member of Slytherin."

.

"Just a lackey," Harry shrugged. "And to be honest, what I learned from her was really useful."

"That's true," Gareth admitted. "Your Charms skills have improved incredibly fast this semester. Professor Ronan even praised your Levitation Charm control last time."

They walked and talked, planning their weekend activities.

The snow started falling again, warm light shone through the castle windows, and the students' laughter echoed in the corridors.

In December, Hogwarts is enveloped in a festive magic. Wreaths woven from holly and mistletoe hang in the corridors, and the armored figures are enchanted so that they suddenly start singing off-key Christmas carols as students pass by.

It is said that this was Headmaster Black's personal hobby.

The figures in the portraits have all changed into festive attire, and they visit each other's portraits, exchanging prepared gifts.

Harry still didn't know how they got the gifts from the portrait, but magic is amazing, isn't it?

The most magical thing is the snow in the castle. It doesn't drift in from outside the windows, but in certain areas, such as the Entrance hall and the Great Hall, it slowly falls from the ceiling and disappears quietly a few feet above the ground, leaving only the cool snowy feeling and the unique fragrance of pine needles.

"My aunt said it was the work of a Headmaster named Fitzgerald," Gareth explained to Harry at breakfast, "So that the students who stayed at school for Christmas could also feel the festive atmosphere."

Harry watched a snowflake drift down from the starry sky above the Great Hall, melting into a cool, damp sensation on the back of his hand, and a wave of emotion washed over him.

At the Dursley family, Christmas meant Dudley receiving mountains of gifts, and the best he could get was a pair of Uncle Vernon's old stockings—and he had to feign gratitude.

"Are you sure you don't want to go home for Christmas?" Harry asked Gareth; this was the third time they had discussed the topic.

Gareth shrugged and added more sugar to his cereal.

"My parents and Bob went to Tsarist Russia, and my sister works there. Going back alone would just mean facing an empty house, so I might as well stay at school. Besides—" he winked slyly, "Students who stay at school can participate in special Christmas activities; I heard the Kitchen will prepare an unreasonably lavish feast."

Harry nodded. He had nowhere else to go.

Go back to Privet Drive? That's absolutely impossible.

Moreover, the Dursley family weren't even born yet at Privet Drive in 1887.

On Friday, Professor Weasley, the headmaster of Gryffindor, announced the Christmas holiday schedule.

"Attention students staying on campus: From December 20th to January 5th, the castle will be in holiday mode. The library will have shortened opening hours, but special refreshments will be served daily in the Great Hall. Additionally, there will be a Christmas carol party on Silent Night Eve, and all students are welcome to attend."

After Charms Class ended, Cassandra gestured for Harry to stay.

She spoke only after all the other students had left.

"I'm not at school during the Christmas holidays; Malfoy Manor hosts family gatherings and a series of social events."

Harry wasn't surprised; after all, Pure-blood families like the Malfoy would certainly have complicated traditions and social obligations Christmas.

"Have you finished copying your notes?" Cassandra asked, her tone as stern as ever.

"I still have half a book left to finish," Harry answered honestly. "I should be able to finish it before I leave school."

"Very good." Cassandra took a small, square bag wrapped in dark green paper from her bag and casually placed it on the table. "For you."

Harry was stunned: "This is—"

"Christmas present." Cassandra stated it as if it were a perfectly ordinary fact. "As my subordinate, it would damage my image if I didn't even receive a decent Christmas present. Don't get me wrong, it's nothing expensive."

Harry carefully picked up the package.

It was very light and exquisitely packaged, with silver snowflake patterns printed on dark green paper and tied with a silver ribbon.

"Thank you, Miss Malfoy," Harry said sincerely. "I also prepared something for you—"

"No need," Cassandra interrupted him curtly. "A lackey doesn't need to prepare gifts for his master, and besides, I'm not at school, so I won't receive them even if you give them to me."

She rose from her seat, straightened her shirt collar, and glanced indifferently at Harry, as if he were an insignificant person.

Harry wasn't surprised by her attitude; after all, a follower like her was already quite fortunate to receive a gift from Miss Malfoy.