Christmas

December arrived as scheduled, and Hogwarts Castle was covered in a thin layer of snow, while clear frost patterns formed on the windowpanes.

Life in the castle did not seem to have been completely overshadowed by the "heir of Slytherin." On one hand, this was thanks to Dumbledore and the professors' effective reassurance and control; on the other, the latest "attack" had sorely lacked the proper atmosphere of terror—

Nearly Headless Nick had been found standing rigid beside a suit of armor in the Seventh Floor corridor, covered from head to toe in a cold grayish white. He had most certainly been petrified.

Yet unlike the horrifying scene when Mrs. Norris had been attacked, there was not a trace of fear or pain on the face of Gryffindor's resident ghost.

On the contrary, his translucent face had frozen into an unusually serene, even devoutly expectant expression, and the corners of his mouth seemed to hold a satisfied smile.

The younger student who found him first had not even screamed. He had merely scratched his head in confusion before running off to tell Filch.

Once the news spread, the students were more curious and full of speculation than afraid.

"Nick looked... pretty happy?"

At lunch, Ron speared a potato, unable to make sense of it no matter how hard he tried.

"Maybe he was thinking about joining The Headless Hunt?"

Hermione guessed, though that clearly could not fully explain his overly peaceful expression.

Harry frowned tightly. This was nothing like the "terrorist attack" he had imagined.

He unconsciously touched the scar on his forehead, and an icy sense of urgency crawled up his spine—

No matter how strange this attack looked, it meant that the thing in the Chamber of Secrets was still active.

They had to move faster. They had to act before the next... or the one after that, victim appeared.

Meanwhile, in the office of the Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Lin Du stood before a mirror, examining the changes in himself.

The ominous silver at his roots had spread to a more noticeable area. The backlash from the Moonlight Contract was even more stubborn than he had expected.

He frowned for a moment, then tapped lightly with his wand, and a soft glow enveloped the top of his head.

Moments later, the reflection in the mirror had a full head of evenly colored, lustrous silver-white hair—

The striking new hair color, paired with his calm Eastern features, strangely blended into an icy, mysterious air. It actually suited his increasingly established image as the "strange but capable new professor."

"Happy now?" Chao Feng coiled atop a pile of books, his tone complicated. "You really do look like some brooding elven prince."

"Better than looking like I've been cursed by some Dark Magic, or gone gray before my time," Lin Du replied blandly, brushing a strand of silver hair with his fingertips.

"Deceiving yourself." Chao Feng snorted.

And so, amid the surface festivity of the holiday season and everyone's private concerns beneath it, the castle welcomed its Christmas feast.

That night, magic filled the Great Hall. Snowflakes drifted gently from the ceiling, only to vanish silently before reaching the long tables.

A hundred plump roast turkeys, mountains of roasted meat and boiled potatoes, and an array of pies and puddings filled the four House tables. The air was thick with tempting food scents and cheerful clamor.

Great piles of wizard crackers went off one after another with loud bangs, spewing blue smoke and producing naval hats or lively, colorful birds, drawing bursts of laughter.

The atmosphere at the high table was just as lively.

Dumbledore had traded his pointed wizard's hat for a woman's hat decorated with bright feathers, and was happily listening to Professor Flitwick tell jokes.

Though Professor McGonagall sat perfectly straight, there was a gentle smile at the corner of her mouth.

When Lin Du stepped up to the high table, his conspicuous silver hair immediately drew the attention of several professors present.

"Good evening, Professor Lin." Professor McGonagall was the first to nod in greeting. Her gaze lingered on his hair for a moment, carrying a professor's characteristic rigor and curiosity. "Forgive my curiosity... but your hair color seems rather different from before?"

Lin Du paused for a beat, then naturally took his seat and gave a slightly embarrassed smile. "Ah, this... yes, Professor McGonagall. Just a small experiment. A change of mood. Do you... think it looks all right?"

"Very eye-catching, my dear boy!" Professor Flitwick said in his high voice, looking over the rim of his wineglass. "Quite distinctive! It reminds me of the frost elves of the North—mysterious and elegant!"

"Thank you, Professor Flitwick." Lin Du's smile became more natural, and he secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

At that moment, a cold, greasy voice came from the other side of the long table, like a basin of ice water trying to douse the flames of merriment.

"I hear white hair is a... special preference among certain Easterners?" Professor Snape slowly cut into a piece of turkey without lifting his head, but his voice carried clearly across the table. "Perhaps it is meant to match your unconventional teaching philosophy?"

The table fell silent for a moment.

Dumbledore's eyes glittered behind his half-moon spectacles. Professor McGonagall frowned slightly, while Professor Flitwick blinked.

Lin Du's expression did not change. He merely raised a hand and casually brushed the silver hair from his forehead.

"A special preference?" He gave a soft laugh, with just the right touch of helplessness in his voice. "Professor Snape, if you want to compliment my new look for having an Eastern flair, you can just say so."

He paused, raising his glass in Snape's direction in a distant toast. "As for teaching philosophy... it's like this mead. Some prefer the richness of a well-aged brew, while others favor the fresh sweetness of a new blend. Everyone has their own way of drinking it, don't they?"

Snape finally lifted his eyelids. His black eyes swept over Lin Du without a trace of warmth, and he let out an almost inaudible snort through his nose, but said nothing more and returned his attention to his plate.

"Ha ha, all right, all right," Dumbledore said, raising his glass of mead at just the right moment, his voice cheerful as he smoothed things over.

"Christmas night belongs to laughter and good food. Professor Lin's new hair color is full of holiday spirit! Let us drink to Hogwarts' safety, and to the coming New Year!"

"Cheers!" Professor Flitwick responded enthusiastically.

Professor McGonagall raised her glass as well, adding sternly, "May the coming year bring fewer troubles."

Snape reluctantly touched his glass to the others.

Lin Du smiled and took a sip, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught the brief glance Dumbledore sent his way. It had been so swift that one might almost have thought it an illusion, yet it made Lin Du's heart tighten slightly.

The feast continued, and laughter and conversation filled the Great Hall.

On the surface, Lin Du joined the professors' idle chatter about the weather, students, and the history of the Triwizard Tournament. Inwardly, however, he calculated the date when the Mandrakes would mature, as well as how to make the planned "accident" appear even more flawless.

His silver hair gleamed faintly beneath the candlelight, like a carefully disguised suit of armor concealing the Moonlight Curse that was gradually spreading beneath it.

Christmas revelry was merely a curtain. Behind it, the true stage was quietly taking shape.