Professor, Do You Like My Gift?

Hermione stiffly changed the subject: "Harry, then when do you plan to make your move?"

"Christmas, I suppose." Harry thought for a moment and quickly reached a conclusion, "There won't be many people at school then; it will be safer for me to look through the Restricted Section."

Hermione looked regretful: "Alright, I'm going home for Christmas, so it seems I won't be able to help you."

Christmas was a grand holiday.

This meant that the first half of the young wizards' school year was officially over, and they would welcome a two-week break, not returning to classes until after New Year's Day.

The professors had them register early on.

The vast majority of young wizards chose to go home; Hogwarts was interesting, but after half a year, they were quite homesick.

In the entire dormitory, only Harry and Ron remained among the first-years.

On Christmas Eve, they didn't take any action.

Harry was dragged off by the Weasley twins to celebrate; they had stolen Wood's vodka and gotten dead drunk in the dormitory.

The next day.

Harry was pecked awake by Hedwig.

She stood on his pillow, hooting incessantly. Having not seen him for half a year, she was very dissatisfied that he had kept her busy all night the moment they reunited.

The constitution of a Witcher meant Harry suffered no hangover, and he prepared to get up and continue his training—but as soon as he threw off the quilt, he noticed a mountain-like pile of gifts at the foot of his bed.

Christmas presents.

Harry just hadn't expected there to be so many.

Ron woke up groggily, yawning, and waved at Harry: "Merry Christmas, Harry, oh, and Hedwig."

"How come you're up so early?"

Harry put on his clothes: "I was planning to train, but it looks like... I'll have to spend this morning unwrapping gifts."

"Training, oh, right..." Ron shivered, suddenly becoming a bit more alert, "You drank so much alcohol yesterday, and you still want to train?"

He looked at Harry in astonishment.

George and Fred had stolen two bottles of vodka last night, and Harry had drunk more than one bottle by himself. He had been so drunk he was unconscious, grabbing George and pulling his pants down to make him dance the Four Little Swans.

After being in such a state, how was he acting like nothing happened the next day?

Harry nodded and picked up the gift on the very top, wrapped in kraft paper. It was from Hagrid: a crude Bone Flute. It reminded Harry of his own horse, and he liked the gift very much.

Aunt Petunia's family also sent a gift, a fifty-pence coin, which Ron found quite interesting.

There was also a bright green hand-knitted sweater from Ron's mother, accompanied by a box of fudge.

He liked the sweater, but the color...

"It would have been better if it were red." Harry set the sweater aside, "Green always reminds me of some unpleasant things."

Ron nodded in agreement; he was thinking of Slytherin.

Hermione had sent a box of chocolates, along with various magical candies sent by other little lions from Gryffindor.

The professors had also sent gifts to Harry.

Professor McGonagall sent two Transfiguration Notes—one of her own, and one that had belonged to Harry's father.

Professor Sprout sent a few plant seeds, along with planting instructions, and Professor Flitwick sent a Wand Maintenance Kit.

And Snape—

Ron looked at the kraft paper wrapping and the handwriting on it, which exuded a gloomy aura, as well as the most eye-catching signature: "Professor Snape actually gave you a gift?"

Harry weighed it in his hand; it wasn't heavy: "Guess what it could be."

"Poison to make you blind?" Ron shuddered, "Or a potion that can disfigure you?"

"Didn't you say Professor Snape has always hoped for that?"

Harry didn't speak; he tore open the packaging. Inside was a box with a price tag still stuck to it: "Nine pounds fifteen pence."

"What is this?" Ron looked confused.

Harry opened the box to reveal a brand-new pair of sunglasses—ever since he returned to this world, he hadn't worn anything like glasses.

"Sunglasses." Harry enlightened him, "A type of accessory from the world of ordinary people."

"Why would he send something like this?" Ron remained puzzled.

Harry put them on: "They can cover my eyes, and they can also cover my face."

Snape had chosen the style with the largest frames, bigger than a fist, covering almost half of Harry's face behind the lenses.

"It's not really possible to tell what you look like now." Ron nodded.

Harry tossed them aside.

He didn't like such things. Although a Witcher's eyesight was excellent and he could see in the dark, that didn't mean he wanted to go looking for trouble for himself.

The gifts were unwrapped throughout the morning.

Until noon.

The dormitory door was pushed open, and George and Fred stumbled in, supporting each other. Their faces were deathly pale, their limbs weak. "Harry, Harry, are you alright?"

Their greeting stalled as they saw Harry standing before the mirror, looking rosy-cheeked and trying on a new sweater. This caught them off guard, and they stopped dead in their tracks.

George rubbed his eyes.

"I'm fine, what's wrong?" Harry turned to look at them. "Help me thank Mrs. Weasley; her craftsmanship is excellent, and it's very comfortable to wear."

Fred muttered, "Why are you perfectly fine?"

George chimed in, "You drank more than both of us combined last night!"

"It wasn't that I drank a lot, it's just that your tolerance is too low." Harry walked over and patted their backs. "It wasn't even a full bottle, and you were already about to throw up."

"That was Vodka, Polish Vodka, forty-five percent proof!" George clenched his fists, though he lacked the strength to even do that now.

Harry looked at them with pity. "Alright, hurry to the Great Hall now. There's a feast at noon; remember to fill your stomachs. An empty stomach is bad for your health."

George and Fred let out a groan.

They had no appetite for food right now; they only wanted to purge everything from their stomachs.

There weren't many people staying at Hogwarts for Christmas, but the food remained lavish.

Harry had just filled his plate with German and French dishes when Snape strode over, his robes billowing. He stopped in front of Harry and slammed his hand onto the table. "Potter!"

Harry glanced at him and offered a gentle smile. "Merry Christmas, Professor Snape. Is there something you need?"

Snape frowned, clearly disgusted by Harry's expression. "Potter, what is the meaning of this!"

"A Christmas gift, my dear Professor." Harry remained unhurried, speaking in a soft voice. "It is my most sincere blessing to you."

"Is that so?" Snape sneered.

Harry countered, "Do you not like it?"

Snape waved a hand. "I hope you enjoy the gift I sent you as well."

"To be honest, I don't like it very much." Harry made a small gesture. "That thing really obstructs my vision."

Snape scoffed, "But it covers your face and eyes, making you look slightly less stupid than a Troll."

"But I am very happy." Harry changed the subject, though his face remained calm, devoid of any sign of joy. "That you still remembered me on Christmas, Professor."

These words stuck in Snape's throat, his expression twisting further. "Is that so? I truly hope you are still this happy by the end of the term."

Snape gripped his wand, suppressing the urge to cast a hex on Harry, and turned to leave.

Only after his figure disappeared from the hall did Ron dare to lift his head from his plate. "Harry, what did you do to Professor Snape? Why is he so angry?"

"I don't know, I just gave him a Christmas gift." Harry was also somewhat puzzled.

He didn't understand why Snape would be angry.

He had chosen the gift very carefully.

"Most people don't make that face when they receive a proper gift." George leaned over, his hangover unable to dampen his love for mischief. "What did you give him, a toilet seat?"

"No, no, I bet it was bat dung." Fred immediately dismissed George's idea.

Harry took a bite of steak. "It was a hair care product, the kind that's very effective at removing grease."

George and Fred were dumbfounded.

"No wonder Professor Snape was so angry." Ron held his breath, his voice dropping several notches.

George gave a thumbs up. "We've never admired anyone more for their mischief; you actually dared to give Professor Snape something like that."

Harry shook his head, frowning. "Something like that?"

"Thank goodness the gift you gave us was normal." Fred gestured at his chest.

George immediately swatted his hand down. "Hey, we're wizards."

"But it's Christmas today!" Fred argued righteously. "The atmosphere is right, there's no problem!"

In the afternoon, Harry made up for the training he missed in the morning.

Ron played in a snowball fight with George and the others—taking advantage of his two brothers feeling under the weather, he had to pay back all the bullying he'd endured over the past few years.

Then...

He was turned into a snowman.

Even with hangovers, George and Fred were third-year students; they knew how to use magic.

When night fell, Ron became anxious.

He checked the time almost every ten minutes, waiting for curfew. As soon as the eleven o'clock alarm rang, Ron jumped out of bed, unable to wait. "Harry, quick, get the Invisibility Cloak."

He had been looking forward to this moment for a long time.

Harry rummaged through his trunk and pulled out the box Dumbledore had given him—he hadn't used the Invisibility Cloak since he got it; in a place as safe as Hogwarts, there was no need.

The cloak was large, more than enough to cover two young wizards.

After confirming in the mirror that their figures were hidden, they tiptoed out of the common room. The Fat Lady muttered to herself; this strange situation gave her the feeling of returning to over a decade ago.

The library was deathly quiet.

Madam Pince had long since retired for the night, and they reached the Restricted Section without encountering a single obstacle.

"Lumos." Harry flicked his wand, and a faint light flickered to life.

They examined the book spines one by one.

Some titles looked incredibly enticing, such as Powerful Magical Spells, which made Ron itch to pull it out and flip through the pages; perhaps if he learned a powerful curse, he could finally stand up to those two brothers of his.

Harry slapped his hand down.

They had only just begun searching the first shelf when Harry suddenly looked up, pointing his wand as he turned to peer behind them.