Father and Daughter at Odds

The Great Hall echoed with cheerful conversation and occasional bursts of laughter, and the long tables were piled high with festive delicacies.

It seems the House Elf have gone to great lengths to help the students who want to stay at school.

Cassandra sat beside Harry, her posture still elegant, but her tense shoulders relaxed slightly.

She used a silver knife and fork to cut the beef into perfectly sized cubes; the instructor must have been a private Potions tutor.

"So," she said flatly, her eyes fixed on her plate, "Mr. Weasley was just commenting on my taste in fireworks?"

Gareth nearly choked on the Pumpkin Juice and quickly waved his hands, "No, no, Miss Malfoy, I was just expressing my envy. Those fireworks sounded amazing!"

Just kidding, Gareth doesn't want to take the blame for this.

Offending Miss Malfoy has very serious consequences.

"Absolutely fantastic." Cassandra finally looked up, her gray eyes sweeping over Gareth's flushed face. "Zonko's only made fifty sets of limited-edition Christmas fireworks this year, each with a different magical effect. I chose the Polaris series, which is characterized by leaving a long-lasting starlight trail in the sky after burning."

She turned to Harry, her tone still arrogant. "If you look closely, those star patterns subtly change according to the viewer's wishes. While it's simple perception magic, it's quite creative for Zonko's."

.

Harry recalled how, when the fireworks lit up the sky, the stars seemed to be responding to his deepest desires.

"I see them," he said softly. "They are beautiful."

Cassandra nodded, turning her attention back to the food on her plate.

But Harry noticed that the lines of her face were softer than usual.

Is it just my imagination?

Halfway through the dinner, Pabbie and Benjamin came over from Hufflepuff.

"Merry Christmas!" Pabbie said enthusiastically, her cheeks flushed from the warmth and food. "Did you see those dancing puddings? Bobby in the Kitchen said they added a new recipe this year; eating them will make someone tell a random Christmas joke!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than a boy sitting at the Ravenclaw Long Table suddenly exclaimed, "Why is Santa Claus always so happy? Because he knows which chimney is open!"

The Great Hall fell silent for a second, then burst into laughter, even the professors at the faculty table couldn't help but chuckle. "But I heard," Gareth whispered to Harry, "That you Muggle would send a three-year-old to unclog a chimney?"

"Oh, not really." Harry took a sip of Pumpkin Juice. "You have to be at least five to poke a chimney."

Pabbie didn't hear their conversation; she was still pampering Ravenclaw and glancing around.

"See!" she said proudly, "I want to try that pudding too!"

Cassandra elegantly wiped her mouth with a napkin. "If you don't mind making a potentially embarrassing joke in front of the whole school, then please go ahead. I personally would prefer the more controllable dessert."

She pointed to a small, exquisite log cake in front of her, decorated with delicate holly leaf patterns in icing.

"But adventure is part of the magic!" Pabbie insisted, her eyes Winky. "And it's Christmas, so it's okay to make a fool of myself!"

She skipped off to get the pudding, and Benjamin shrugged apologetically and followed.

Gareth watched their retreating figures, hesitated for a moment, but ultimately his desire for the food overcame his caution. "Uh—I'll try it too, do you want to come?"

Harry looked at Cassandra; he was actually quite interested in trying the pudding too.

However, Cassandra gently shook her head. "I don't need magic to make myself look ridiculous."

But to Harry's surprise, she added, "But you can go, Potter. It's just a piece of pudding; it won't damage my image."

This was practically encouraging him.

Harry blinked, then stood up. "I'll give it a try too."

He and Gareth walked together to the dessert area, where several brave students had already gathered.

A row of tiny puddings trembled slightly on a silver plate, their surfaces covered with blue flames—not from heat, but merely a visual effect.

"One for each person, no more!" Bobby shouted in a shrill voice. "The effect lasts for five minutes!"

Harry carefully picked up a pudding; blue flames danced in his hand, but it wasn't hot.

He took a bite, and the flavor was rich, with notes of chocolate, orange peel, and some kind of mysterious spice.

A few seconds later, he felt a strange urge rise from his stomach and down to his throat.

He tried to control himself, but his mouth was already open. "What would you call a deer without eyes? -- I don't know (Noidear, pronounced the same as Noeye)."

deer, the deer without eyes!

Another burst of laughter filled the Great Hall, Harry blushed. This was a joke that Uncle Vernon had told before.

When she returned to her seat, Cassandra was sipping a steaming hot drink.

Seeing Harry, she raised an eyebrow. "A deer without eyes? That's interesting."

"I can't control myself," Harry said honestly, sitting back down beside her. "That pudding is magical."

"Obviously," Cassandra pushed the cup towards the center of the table, "A little of this, honey mulled wine, can alleviate the mild side effects of magical foods."

Harry gratefully accepted the cup; the warm liquid, with its sweet honey and spice aroma, certainly made him feel much better.

"Thanks."

Cassandra didn't respond, but Harry noticed she cut another small piece of her own log cake and placed it on the edge of his plate, the motion so natural it seemed almost casual.

As the dinner party drew to a close, the House Elf began clearing the tables and replacing them with after-dinner drinks and snacks.

Then, the ghosts reappeared, this time to perform a complete Christmas carol.

Nearly Headless Nick, floated to the center of the Great Hall, cleared his throat—if ghosts had voices—and said, "Lady and gentlemen, on this joyous evening, please allow us—the resident ghosts of Hogwarts —to offer you one of the oldest Christmas carols: ' The Traveler in the Winter Night.'"

The ghosts formed a semicircle and began to sing in unison.

Their voices were ethereal and otherworldly, passing through the stone walls and echoing throughout the ancient castle.

The lyrics tell the story of a traveler who gets lost in a blizzard, is guided by the lights of a castle, and eventually finds warmth and shelter.

As Harry listened to the singing, he suddenly felt something was off.

It was as if he had seen this very moment in a dream before; there was an indescribable sense of familiarity.

When the song ended, enthusiastic applause filled the Great Hall.

Professor Weasley stood up, raised his glass, and said, "To Hogwarts! To magic! To this Christmas that brings us all together!"

"To Hogwarts!" the students responded in unison, raising their glasses.

The dinner officially ended, but the students were not in a hurry to leave.

People gathered in small groups to chat, share gifts, and play simple magic games.

The castle allows the curfew to be extended to midnight to celebrate Silent Night.

Harry, Gareth, Pabbie, and others sat around one end of the Gryffindor table, playing a game called Wizarding Riddles.

Cassandra didn't participate, but she didn't leave either. She simply sat a little further away, flipping through a small book she had taken out of her robe pocket.

"My turn!" Pabbie exclaimed excitedly. "What is this: I have pockets but can't put anything in them, I have a bed but can't sleep in it, I have a river but no water, I have a city but no inhabitants?"

While everyone else was pondering, Harry was secretly glancing at Cassandra. He noticed her lips move silently, and the answer was obvious.

But he didn't say it out loud; he just guessed along with the others.

"Map!" Benjamin suddenly shouted.

"Correct!" Pabbie clapped. "You're so smart, Benjamin!"

When the game reached its tenth round, the castle bells rang eleven times. The students began to leave the Great Hall and return to their respective Common Room.

Harry stood up, ready to leave with Gareth, but Cassandra called him back.

"Potter."

Harry turned around. Cassandra had already closed her book and was standing at the intersection of light and shadow at the entrance to the Great Hall.

"Tomorrow morning at nine o'clock, at the library," she said. "We're going to begin the official experimental recording for the Charms Project. Don't be late."

"Yes, Miss Malfoy." Harry nodded. "Merry Christmas, again."

Cassandra was silent for a moment, the candlelight in the Great Hall flickering in her eyes, making them appear unusually deep.

"Today's fireworks," she finally spoke, her voice lower than usual, "I brought back more than just those fireworks tubes from home. There's something else in the box—for you."

Harry was stunned. "For me?"

"A basic Protective Charm practice kit," Cassandra said briefly. "I noticed you were using the old school supplies when you were practicing at the Astronomy Tower. Those were worn out and affected your accuracy. The new ones are in a box in the Entrance hall; they've already been delivered to the Gryffindor Tower by House Elf."

She paused, seemingly choosing her words carefully. "Don't misunderstand, this is just for the project's progress. If your practice tools aren't good enough, then the data you collect is worthless."

But Harry knew the real reason went beyond that. A professional set of Protective Charm practice equipment wasn't cheap and needed to be ordered in advance; Cassandra had likely prepared it before leaving Hogwarts.

"Thank you, Miss Malfoy," he said sincerely. "I will use it well."

Cassandra nodded slightly, then turned to leave.

But before she took a step, she suddenly turned back and said something that completely surprised Harry.

"I thought today's fireworks were beautiful too."

Then she strode into the shadows of the corridor, her dark green cloak enveloping her like the night itself.

Harry stood there until Gareth tapped him on the shoulder. "Dude, what are you daydreaming about? Time to go back!"

"It's nothing." Harry shook his head and followed his friend toward the Gryffindor Tower, but Cassandra's last words kept echoing in his mind.

Back in the Common Room, there was indeed a small package waiting for Harry.

Inside was a set of exquisite Protective Charm practice tools: three dummy targets made of different materials, a complete and high-quality set of protective gear, and a detailed user manual.

"Merlin," Gareth looked on enviously, "how much did this cost? Malfoy really is—"

He didn't finish his sentence, but the meaning was clear.

What can I say? What else can I say?

Could it be that Young Lady Malfoy seems to treat you differently? Gareth, for one, didn't quite believe this assessment.

Please, she's the Malfoy family's daughter, how could she possibly be interested in this Muggle-born little wizard?

Perhaps they really just needed a follower, and those Slytherin from Pure-blood families were too goal-oriented.

Gareth thought about it more and more and it seemed to make sense, but what he didn't know was that Harry thought the same thing.

"I said," Gareth spoke again, "Shall we invite Pabbie to play together again tomorrow? She said Professor Hoot is back—although I haven't taken her class yet, she seems quite welcoming of us visiting."

"Miss Malfoy wants me to practice tomorrow," Harry said with a shrug. "I probably won't have much time to go see Professor Hoot— "

"Oh, Malfoy's mission, is it?" Gareth shrugged. "No wonder she gave you this set—"

Harry carefully put away his tools and made up his mind to practice more diligently starting tomorrow.

"She just thinks I should practice more," Harry replied. "Practice is pointless if my tools aren't good enough."

Gareth seemed to choke on his words, remaining silent for a long while.

Never mind, I don't really have anything to say, okay?

Why is there no one who treats me this well?

But the thought of being used as a target, or being forced to practice Charms and having no time to play, made it seem less appealing.

During the last hour of Silent Night, Harry lay in bed, listening to Gareth snoring softly from the next bed, watching the snowflakes fall outside the window.

He thought of the Dursley family' cramped cupboard, and Dudley's noisy Christmas, which, though equally lively, didn't feel the same to him.

At the other end of the castle, in the Slytherin Common Room, Cassandra was not asleep either. She sat in an armchair by the fireplace, gazing absently at the fire.

The House Elf asked cautiously, "Miss, do you need to rest?"

Cassandra shook her head. "Wait a little longer."

The House Elf retreated at her command, Cassandra turned her gaze back to the fire, her mind drifting back to the words her father had spoken when they parted earlier that day.

"Cass, what you've done for that boy has gone too far. Even if he's a lackey, the Malfoy family shouldn't be so openly showing favoritism towards a Muggle-born wizard."

"He's not an ordinary Muggle-born, Father," she replied. "And I didn't favor anyone; I just made sure my henchmen met the standards."

She still remembered the sigh her father gave before boarding the carriage, as if he were utterly disappointed.

Similarly, her brother did not approve of her actions, but Cassandra believed that she had not done anything wrong.

"Who cares?" she muttered to herself, placing her cup on the table. "I'll do whatever I want."