The Beginning

Shortly after Ron left, Damon dragged his slightly tired body back to the dormitory and saw the bed almost piled high with Christmas gifts.

"Everyone's gone to the Christmas feast? Looks like I need to hurry up."

A faint smile on his face, he casually flopped down on the edge of the bed and started unwrapping presents.

Professor McGonagall had given him a notebook on Magical Theory, with a card attached: [May every day at Hogwarts be fulfilling and meaningful. Merry Christmas.]

Damon examined it and found the notebook could automatically organize and categorize notes—quite helpful for note-taking.

"Just like a professor's style."

He chuckled softly and moved on to the next one.

Professor Flitwick had sent him a set of Wizard's Chess, with a note: [Keep excelling, but don't forget to relax sometimes. Merry Christmas, The Duelling Prince. By the way, I don't think anyone could be more worthy of that title than you.]

The smile at the corner of his mouth grew more pronounced as he carefully put away the entire chess set.

Ron's mother, Molly Weasley, had given him a beige hand-knitted sweater with a large yellow "D" on it. Damon put it on right away.

Hermione had gifted him a hardcover copy of Magical Theory: Fantastical Insights, its cover adorned with elegant silver foil stamping.

There were also plenty of gifts from first-year and even older girls—simple sweets and pastries—but all came with cards, their contents either subtle or direct, all hinting at a desire to get to know or befriend Damon.

Admittedly, girls were far more thoughtful than boys in this regard; none of the first-year boys had prepared a gift for Damon—though he truly didn't mind.

Damon read through every card, picked one to reply to, and had Chachabarton bring some sweets as a return gift.

The card's owner was Susan Bones, a first-year witch in his year from a family with strong principles. Several of her relatives and elders had died at the hands of Death Eaters—one could say her family was steeped in loyalty and sacrifice.

Her other identity was as the niece of Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

She was a respectable woman, known for her fairness and honesty, who had once spoken up for Harry in court and ultimately died at Voldemort's hands.

In the mid-to-late plot of Harry Potter's world, the Ministry of Magic, as the wizarding government, made many insufferably foolish decisions. Damon had no intention of indulging them.

Though he wasn't particularly power-hungry, if you gave up your power, someone else would naturally take it.

When the time was right, he'd consider joining the Ministry under a different identity and try to bring that authority under his control.

As for the other cards, he ignored them.

To Damon, aside from a very few people he valued, everyone else was like a stranger, not worth any of his effort.

Besides, he was in a race against time now and had no leisure for making friends.

By the time Damon arrived at the Great Hall for the Christmas feast, Harry and the others were already eating the flaming Christmas pudding.

The Hall looked magnificent, with walls draped in garlands of holly and mistletoe, and a dozen towering Christmas trees standing about—some glittering with icicles, others shimmering with hundreds of candles.

Seeing Damon appear, Professor McGonagall and Flitwick both cast friendly glances his way. Professor Flitwick even gave him a subtle wave.

As for Snape—Damon had sent him a box of shampoo and body wash sets, and now the man was staring at him with a murderous glare.

Incidentally, Damon hadn't given Dumbledore a gift.

"Damon—you're here! Thanks for the gift, I really like it."

Harry greeted him cheerfully, then glanced oddly at Ron—normally, Ron would have shouted a greeting at the sight of Damon, so why was he so quiet now?

Ron stepped up to Damon, opened his mouth, and looked a bit awkward—he didn't know how to express his gratitude.

If he was too solemn, it would seem strange.

If he was too casual, it wouldn't feel sincere enough.

Luckily, Damon solved his dilemma in the next moment.

Damon slung an arm around Ron's shoulders and said happily:

"Looks like my taste isn't bad—this outfit really suits you."

"Yeah—yeah, thanks, Damon. I don't know how to say—"

"No need for that. Didn't I get a sweater from your mom too? I love it."

"What do you think? Does it look good?"

Damon patted Ron's shoulder and spread his arms to show off the beige sweater he was wearing.

It had to be said—even the most ordinary clothes seemed to gain magic on him, becoming refined and elegant.

"Pretty good." Ron nodded sincerely.

Seeing Damon so pleased, he suddenly felt his mother's gift wasn't so embarrassing after all.

His tense body quietly relaxed, and he let out a relieved smile.

Damon guided him to sit at the table. "I'm a bit hungry. Is it just dessert left?"

No sooner had he spoken than the dessert on his plate vanished, replaced by the steak he ate most often.

"Oh, how thoughtful."

It seemed the House-elves had received his gifts.

Damon smiled and began eating heartily, the earlier topic smoothly dropped—just as Ron had hoped, neither too serious nor too dismissive.

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance and a look—should they ask Damon to join them for a snowball fight later?

"Forget it, I think Damon would rather be practicing Charms."

Harry hadn't expected Ron to think that way, and he was a bit surprised.

In the past, Ron would've been the first to invite Damon to join in on anything—even if Damon turned him down eight times out of ten, he'd never given up.

What was going on with him now?

Sure enough.

By the time lunch ended, Damon had hurried off again.

Both Harry and Ron knew that if it weren't for the Christmas feast, they wouldn't have seen Damon at all during midday.

Before leaving, Harry thought he saw Damon heading down instead of up.

Strange, what was down on the ground floor?

Since Snape's office and the Slytherin common room were in the dungeons, he and Ron had never explored the ground floor, only knowing that the Hufflepuff common room was there.

"Harry, let's go, let's crush Fred and the others!"

"Yeah!"

Harry and the Weasley brothers spent the afternoon playing snowball fights on the grounds, messing around until they were freezing cold, their clothes soaked, and they panted their way back to the fire in the Common Room, where they started a game of wizard chess.

Harry tried out his new chess pieces, but ended up losing badly to Ron.

Harry muttered to himself that if Percy hadn't kept butting in with terrible advice, he wouldn't have lost so miserably.

"Got it!"

"Give it back!"

The Weasley Twins snatched Percy's prefect badge, and Percy started chasing them around Gryffindor Tower.

It was the happiest Christmas Harry had ever had.

Still, one thing lingered in his mind all day, and it wasn't until he was in bed that he had a moment to think about it—the Invisibility Cloak, and the person who had given it to him.

He thought, maybe he should give it a try.