Everyone Else Has One

After a while, the Book of Friends gradually quieted down again. Wade guessed they were probably busy creating other chat groups.

Among the Christmas gifts he had given out, there was naturally more than just the sheet from the Book of Friends linked to himself. There was also one blank sheet of parchment each for linking two, three, four, and five people. The professors had added an extra stack for ten people. Together, they made a thick little booklet—only then could it be called a "BOOK."

In Wade's vision, every Hogwarts student would have a Book of Friends in the future. They would exchange parchment with friends or family, creating chat groups large and small. Perhaps before long, Hogwarts would add another school rule—no opening the Book of Friends during class; violators would have it confiscated! Or perhaps students would compare the thickness and prestige of their Books of Friends, with some buying blank parchment to tuck inside just to save face, pretending they had joined many chat groups too.

But Professor Murray told him not to sell the Book of Friends for the time being.

A path that had seemed destined for great profit had been cut off. Wade sighed gloomily, put away the Book of Friends, and began opening his presents for the year.

Of the many gift boxes beneath the Christmas tree, most came from Ferdinand's employees. Wade had been wandering around the toy factory with his father since he was little. He was clever, well-behaved, and adorable, so many of the older employees had been very fond of him. Even though they had not seen him for more than half a year, they had still sent gifts. They had given him all kinds of toys popular among ordinary people, elegant fountain pens and notebooks, children's books, and more.

A few were gifts from Wade's Muggle classmates from primary school. Those were simpler, mostly candy, Greeting Cards, and small toys.

He received these every year, and naturally, Wade had sent back gifts of roughly equal value in advance.

Then came the gifts from the Wizarding World.

Unlike Wade, who had given everyone the same kind of present, the gifts people gave him were all sorts of books.

Professor Murray had given him a handwritten notebook on Alchemy. Wade carefully put it away, planning to read it after dinner;

Professor Flitwick had given him a copy of Compendium of Spells—at the Hogwarts Library, this book required a professor's signed note even to borrow. Wade planned to make time to finish it during the holiday as well.

Michael gave him Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them; Hermione gave him Alchemist; Padma's gift was Gilderoy Lockhart's Wandering with Werewolves; Theo's was The World's Oldest Magical Plants; Ryan's was The Beauty of the Starry Sky; Neville's was Mysteries of Transfiguration.

Apparently, his image as someone who loved reading was simply too deeply ingrained in everyone's minds. Without discussing it, they had all chosen to give him books.

It looked like he would have plenty to do over the holiday.

Hogwarts.

When Dumbledore got up that morning, even the shoes beside his bed had been buried beneath presents.

He had been a professor at Hogwarts for nearly a century, and he had taught countless students. Roughly eighty percent of the wizards in the British Isles had been his students.

Moreover, he was the President of the International Confederation of Wizards, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and was widely acknowledged as the greatest wizard of the age and the greatest Headmaster in Hogwarts history—though Dumbledore himself did not care much for such titles and praise, most people clearly did. Across the world, wizards wanted to build good relations with him.

So every Christmas, Dumbledore received many, many gifts—enough to nearly drown the Headmaster's Tower.

Fortunately, he was quite skilled with the Undetectable Extension Charm.

Thus, Dumbledore generally spent the entire week after Christmas opening presents.

It was an activity he greatly enjoyed.

Of course, Dumbledore did not enjoy it because of the value represented by the gifts themselves, but because he could see some people's growth through them, some people's desires, and occasionally, a few little surprises—perhaps a Dark Curse, or perhaps a harmless prank.

Most people who did not know him well gave him books out of admiration for the wizard—Muggle books, wizarding books. Dumbledore had already read many of them, but he still accepted them happily.

Those who knew him well knew that the old man was a hopeless, hardcore lover of sweets. Their gifts were often cakes, chocolate, Cockroach Clusters, Fizzing Whizbees, and other sweets. Some concealed lethal Potions, and identifying them was a fairly entertaining game to Dumbledore.

There were also some people... Although they never contacted him normally, they still sent gifts on this special day. Even if it was only a sheet of paper, a leaf, or a pair of rather ugly wool socks smelling strongly of sheep, Dumbledore would treasure them immensely and keep them carefully.

Just as Dumbledore opened a gift box nearly half a man's height, an owl suddenly flew in through the window and dropped a tiny parcel onto his lap.

Had someone only remembered him after waking up in the morning, then sent a belated gift?

Thinking this, Dumbledore set down the large gift box and opened the small parcel first.

Inside was only a sheet of parchment and a long, narrow note—

Dear Albus: This is the work of my student—Wade Grey! I am immensely proud to share my joy with you!

Wishing you well.

Murray

Even Dumbledore, the "all-knowing" one, was left bewildered by this abrupt, contextless letter. He unfolded the parchment and examined both sides, confirming that aside from Murray's own name, there was nothing written on it.

Dumbledore was about to use a Spell to inspect it when another visitor arrived.

Dumbledore walked to the Entrance Hall. Filius Flitwick stood at the door with a similar piece of parchment in his hand, saying excitedly, "Oh, Professor Dumbledore, this is my copy. I have to say, I knew he would achieve extraordinary things, but I never thought it would happen this soon! He has only been studying magic for three and a half months!"

"—Wade Grey?" Dumbledore asked tentatively.

"Yes, who else could it be?" Professor Flitwick walked away with light steps, humming a tune.

Dumbledore looked down. The parchment Flitwick had given him still bore nothing except Flitwick's name.

Then came Pomona Sprout.

"After thinking it over, who else could I give this one to but you?" the Female Witch said with a gentle smile. "I await your contact at any time."

Next came Minerva McGonagall. Seeing that Dumbledore already had a small stack in his hand, she passed him one with slight displeasure. "Oh, I thought I would be the first. I never expected Pomona to move so quickly!"

In truth, she had opened her other presents first, and by the time she discovered this one, it was already a little late.

Snape came last, directly handing over a notebook.

"Hmph." The Potions Class professor said coldly, "I kept my own copy. I have no need for the others—useless contact would only waste my time."

Dumbledore: ...

So everyone had one, and he was the only one who did not know what it was?