Dignified Attire Represents a Man's Face

"Chudley Cannons robes! Are those Chudley Cannons robes!"

"That's right, Fred, these are Chudley Cannons robes!"

The Weasley twins shouted excitedly. No one who loved Quidditch could dislike this gift, let alone the fact that they were current Gryffindor Quidditch members.

Was that the Chudley Cannons Ron talked about every day?

Harry was a bit surprised that Damon would give him such a gift—it was far too valuable, and Ron was now staring at him with a wolfish look, making Harry quite uncomfortable.

"Do you want to see?"

He lifted the robes from the box, his movements as gentle as if he were handling some rare treasure, and handed them to Ron, whose expression was bordering on dazed.

The Chudley Cannons had won the League Cup twenty-one times. Though their performance in recent years hadn't been great, they were still Ron's most beloved team—the poster on his bedroom ceiling was of the Chudley Cannons.

"Can I?"

Ron took the bright orange robes blankly, staring at the two black letters "C" and a speeding cannonball printed on them, nearly stupefied.

A pang of bitterness suddenly rose in his heart—Damon had given such an expensive gift to Harry? Just this one set of robes probably cost over fifty Galleons!

"Wait, there's more underneath!"

Fred suddenly shouted.

Harry looked closely. Beneath the orange Cannons robes lay a magpie—the Montrose Magpies robes!

This was the team that had won the most League Cups so far!

And that wasn't all—Harry picked up this set, and sure enough, more robes lay beneath—the Holyhead Harpies, the Wimbourne Wasps, all four of the most famous teams' robes were here!

"This is really—"

Harry picked up one set, admired it, then carefully folded it and set it aside. He picked up the next, turned it over in his hands, and again put it away with care. He went through all three sets of robes before letting out a long breath.

With his permission, the three Weasley brothers began to admire them one by one as well.

"What's all the noise about in here?"

Percy Weasley poked his head through the crack in the door, his face full of displeasure.

He was the eldest of the three brothers and a Gryffindor prefect.

"Bloody hell! Where did you get these!"

"Oh—Percy, if you stop lecturing right now, our great and merciful savior, Lord Harry, might consider letting you touch your favorite team's robes."

While George was teasing Percy, Fred quietly closed the door.

For the next half hour, the four of them completely forgot their original purpose. They poured all their energy into the Quidditch robes, praising them endlessly.

Harry watched the three happy faces and suddenly spoke:

"If Damon agrees later, I can give each of you one."

The way the three looked at Harry completely changed—the meaning of collecting all four robes together was entirely different from having just one.

But that was Harry. He never begrudged sharing, nor did he envy his friends' achievements. If Damon knew what Harry had once said about him, he'd probably smile and say to Harry:

"Mate, you're the one with a truly great character."

The four chatted enthusiastically for a long time, discussing what kind of background Damon must have to be so generous.

Then Ron suddenly remembered something and jumped up from his seat:

"Damon must have sent me a gift too—how could I forget!"

He cheerfully unwrapped all his presents, saving the three he thought most likely to be from Damon for last, and opened them.

Even Percy was curious now about what the wealthy Damon would give.

All three gift boxes were the same style—square boxes, elegantly wrapped. Inside lay clothes as well, but—

"Oh."

Ron let out a dull sound, looking a bit dazed.

Fred and George exchanged a glance, both catching a flicker of guilt in the other's eyes. Percy fell silent too.

Ron picked up the card from the floor and read silently.

[I noticed your clothes don't fit quite right. Please forgive my presumption, but I believe proper attire represents a man's dignity, and in my eyes, you are certainly a true man. Merry Christmas, Ron—Damon White]

His eyes instantly welled up.

The tears came so fast, so full, that Ron couldn't hide them, couldn't pretend not to care. He wiped the hot tears away with the back of his hand and said, before any of his three brothers could speak:

"Can I have a moment alone? I'll meet you at the feast in ten minutes."

The Weasley twins didn't mock him. Percy didn't lecture either—because the family was poor, Ron had always worn their hand-me-downs, no matter how much he protested or disliked it.

And now, that problem had been solved by his classmate.

Harry was the last to leave the room.

Before closing the door, he glanced back at Ron—kneeling before the three gift boxes, his back a lonely silhouette.

Harry understood Ron's family situation well, but he never knew how to help without hurting his pride.

Damon was truly the most suitable person for this task.

Click. The door gently closed behind him.

Ron silently unwrapped the three gift boxes, letting his tears fall freely.

Only he knew that the moment he saw the gift Damon had given Harry, his heart had felt a twinge of discomfort—the biggest fan of the Chudley Cannons was him, and Damon knew it, yet he'd given that gift to Harry.

But now—even he couldn't say whether he wanted the three gifts before him or the one Harry had received.

After all, a Quidditch team robe could only be collected, while these three boxes were closely tied to his daily life.

For the first time, Ron felt ashamed of his own base thoughts.

With guilt and gratitude, he opened the first gift box.

This box was quite large, containing two full sets of everyday attire.

One set was a white shirt paired with dark gray fitted trousers, with a simple dark green turtleneck as the inner layer, and in the corner, even a pair of black leather boots placed upside down—very elegant.

The other set was an orange checkerboard shirt matched with khaki pants of the same color, along with one purple and one orange tie.

He opened the second box.

Inside lay three brand-new plain work robes, a pointed hat, a pair of dragon-hide gloves, and a winter cloak.

All were brand new, and—clearly far more fitting than what he was wearing.

Everyday clothes, wizard robes—so what was in the third box?

Ron opened the gift box and saw an exquisitely beautiful formal robe—the robe was a deep wine red, the fabric a fine velvet, the collar a classic V-shape, with a delicate silver embroidered line running from the collar down to the chest, the cuffs slightly longer and gently tapered.

The trousers were tailored long pants, their color matching the top, with a slim fit and smooth lines.

Even in his dreams, Ron had never imagined owning such a formal robe.

And formal robes weren't needed until second year, yet Damon had prepared them for him now. Ron carefully changed into the new everyday clothes and wizard robes, then packed the gifts back into the boxes and stored them with care.

After doing all this, he washed the dried tear tracks from his face with water and took a deep breath.

Remembering Damon's words—"A decent appearance represents a man's dignity"—he silently straightened his loose tie and walked out the door.

Outside the window, snow still fluttered down, blanketing the earth.

But the snow piled on the branches suddenly collapsed.