At that moment, the scent of baking gingerbread drifted through the Granger family's kitchen.
With her sleeves rolled up, Hermione piped icing onto a star-shaped gingerbread biscuit.
Beside it lay several little figures with eyes already drawn on. One had a slightly crooked mouth, which her mother explained meant it was smiling.
Her father brought over the last baking tray and announced with great certainty, "Look, this is a cat."
Hermione put down the piping bag and studied it carefully for a while.
"But it has six legs."
"The extra one is a tail."
"Then it has two tails."
Her father looked down at his creation, seemingly discovering himself that this explanation was not quite complete.
Holding back her laughter, her mother set the tray firmly in place.
"Perhaps it's a very special magical cat."
Hermione looked at her, then at the gingerbread biscuit with its extraordinary abundance of limbs, and finally curled her lips into a smile.
"I haven't learned to identify all the fantastic beasts yet, so I can't say for certain."
Her father nodded in satisfaction, as though the question had received a perfectly reasonable answer.
The small space cleared at the edge of the table still held the presents Hermione had opened that morning.
The magical labels Harry had sent could precisely mark specific places on a page. She had already tried them, and they worked very well. One corner of Ron's chocolate had been unwrapped, just right for having with a hot drink.
And the silver bookmark was still tucked into the book beside her.
The bookmark's clip was very thin, with rounded edges. Once gently clipped on, it rested securely against the paper and did not slip off easily when the pages were turned.
The card beside it bore familiar handwriting.
[Granger, I hope this lets you spend a little less time searching for those scraps of paper that have fallen who knows where.]
[This young lady thinks you should find it useful.]
[Merry Christmas.]
[-Draco Malfoy.]
Hermione read it again and put the card back.
Her mother happened to glance over and asked with a smile, "Is this from a friend at school too?"
"Yes, Draco Malfoy."
"What sort of girl is she?"
Hermione thought for a moment.
"Very proud, terribly concerned about saving face, and she doesn't like losing to anyone. Sometimes she talks as though she's saying, 'I'm the greatest young lady of them all.'"
Her mother smiled without saying anything.
"But she's actually quite nice. She keeps her promises, and when someone needs help, she won't really leave them to it. And..."
Whatever came to Hermione's mind, a strange smile slowly appeared on her lips.
"Anyway... she's my friend, and a very interesting person!"
With that, Hermione lowered her head to try the bookmark, her fingertips brushing lightly over its pattern.
Her mother's expression softened as she watched her.
"It sounds as though you get along well at school."
Hermione nodded, then suddenly remembered that Harry and Ron should be up by now too.
She needed to write them a letter about the Christmas tree at home, and this tray of gingerbread whose species had yet to be determined.
And ask how Hagrid and Pip in the Winter Garden were doing while she was at it.
She picked up the piping bag again and looked at her father.
"Dad, can I take a few back to school?"
Her father brightened at once.
"Do your friends like cats too?"
"I want to hear what they think these are."
Her mother finally laughed aloud.
Her father looked at his daughter, then at the baking tray, and for a moment could not find a suitable reply.
After breakfast, when Harry and Ron entered the courtyard, the twins were busy around a snowman.
The snowman stood very straight, with a piece of wood bearing a "P" pinned to its chest.
Two black stones served as its eyes, while its mouth was a thin twig pressed into a perfectly straight line. A Gryffindor scarf was wrapped around its neck.
Ron recognized it at a glance.
"Percy?"
Fred nodded solemnly.
"To be precise, Percy carrying out his duties."
"Look at his expression." George patted the snowman's shoulders smooth. "So serious."
Harry looked at that utterly unsmiling mouth, and the corners of his own were already lifting.
But before he could speak, Ron lightly nudged his arm.
The real Percy was coming over from the cloister.
The two moved a little to the side in perfect unison.
The twins, however, did not stop. Fred even took half a step back, inviting his older brother to admire just how lifelike his work was.
Percy looked at the snowman, then at the pair, and finally held out his hand.
"My scarf. Give it back."
George looked down at the scarf with an utterly innocent expression.
"We thought this was your support for the arts."
"After all, a work of art needs something authentic," Fred added.
Percy did not continue discussing art.
He merely raised his wand and gave it a gentle flick. Two small clumps of snow rose from nearby and landed precisely inside their collars.
The twins hunched their necks at the same time.
Percy retrieved his scarf and unhurriedly shook the snow off it.
"Now that support has ended."
Harry could not hold back his laughter. The next moment, a snowball struck his shoulder.
George dusted off his hands and smiled at him.
"It seems we have two more enthusiastic spectators."
Ron immediately bent down and grabbed a handful of snow. Harry hurried behind a low wall too. He had only just shaped a snowball when another flew overhead.
"Don't go out yet." Ron peered out and lowered his voice. "Fred's hiding behind the snowman. Whenever George throws, he pokes his head out to look."
Harry gripped his snowball and nodded.
Ron threw one toward George first, then immediately ducked.
Sure enough, George laughed and threw one back. Almost at the same instant, a red head emerged beside the snowman, and Harry immediately sent his snowball flying.
Smack!
It struck Fred squarely in the chest.
"Got him!" Ron stood up happily. "See that? That's what-"
There was another soft smack.
Before he could finish, his face acquired a layer of snow.
Harry hurriedly ducked back behind the wall, laughing so hard he could barely shape his next snowball.
The courtyard soon grew lively.
Snowballs flew back and forth from every direction. Harry had just hit George when Fred landed one on his back.
Wiping snow from his face, Ron still remembered to warn him to watch the pillar on the other side.
Only when Hagrid passed by did all four suddenly stop.
The big man bent down, scooped up a mass of snow, and patted it twice between his hands. Set before Harry and the others, something of that size could hardly be called a little snowball anymore.
Ron looked at Hagrid, then at what he held in his arms, and his tone became very earnest.
"Hagrid, we'd still like to enjoy Christmas dinner in one piece."
Hagrid paused, then burst out laughing.
"I only wanted to give it a sturdier head!"
A few minutes later, "Percy carrying out his duties" possessed a particularly imposing big head.
Hagrid even put its mouth back in place, then stepped back and nodded in satisfaction.
The four watched for a moment, then finally burst out laughing together.
By evening, the fir trees in the Great Hall were already lit.
Holly spread along the walls, and candlelight floated above the long tables.
Fine snow drifted down from the ceiling, gently dissolving into silver light as it neared the tables, never reaching the food.
Few students had stayed at school, but the food on the tables was even more plentiful than usual.
Wearing his dark green jumper, Harry sat among several red-haired boys.
The silver feather at his neckline swayed gently as he moved. Ron had already picked up his plate and was seriously considering his arrangements for what came next.
"Meat goes here, and I need to leave some room beside it."
"What are you saving that for?" Harry asked.
"Pudding."
He answered with great solemnity, as though this determined whether the entire feast could ultimately be brought to a successful conclusion.
On the other side, Fred and George pulled open a wizard cracker.
With a bang, a winged hat flew out, dodged their hands, and nearly plunged into a dish of gravy.
George hurriedly caught it and pressed it onto his head, but the brim still refused to behave, flapping a couple of times now and then.
Things were just as lively at the High Table.
Professor Flitwick had just received an oversized hat. When he put it on, his entire face disappeared.
Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together and reached out to lift its brim for him.
Dumbledore took a look and cheerfully suggested, "Why not try mine?"
The words had barely left his mouth when several golden paper birds emerged from his hat, one after another.
They circled his silvery-white beard, then flew out into the Great Hall.
Hagrid laughed so hard his shoulders shook, and the goblet in his hand swayed along with them.
Beside him, Snape glanced down and moved his plate a little farther away just in time.
Harry had only just looked back when a paper bird landed in his palm.
Its wings gently unfolded, turning into an intricately folded piece of paper.
"Merry Christmas, may you-"
"Harry, grab this end!"
Ron had already held out another cracker.
They each took an end and pulled hard, and a little wooden pig tumbled out.
It shook its head, let out a loud snore, then turned toward Ron's plate piled high with food and gave a very distinct grunt.
Harry looked at the wooden pig, then at Ron.
Ron immediately reached out and turned it the other way.
"It must have mistaken me for someone else."
Harry lowered his head, his shoulders beginning to shake again.
After the feast, the two returned to the common room and claimed a little table beside the fireplace.
Hermione's letter had arrived during the day.
She had written about the Christmas tree at home, the icing her mother had made, and the cat-shaped gingerbread her father firmly insisted on, though its identity remained unconfirmed.
At the end of the letter, she had also asked them to give her regards to Hagrid and Pip.
Ron read the passage about the gingerbread again.
"Six legs. Maybe it's a beetle."
"It has tails too," Harry reminded him.
Ron thought for a moment and reached a very serious conclusion. "Then perhaps it hasn't decided what it wants to be either."
Smiling, Harry took a sheet of parchment and began writing thank-you letters.
He took particular care over the one to Mrs. Weasley.
The jumper fitted very well, the cuffs did not need rolling up, and he had worn it all day.
The fudge was delicious. Everyone had shared quite a bit, and he had remembered to save some for himself too.
Harry's letter to Draco was a little longer than this one.
He told her about the new jumper, the day's snowball fight, and the big head Hagrid had given the snowman. When he wrote about the potato now sitting on the windowsill, the corners of his mouth lifted again despite himself.
Finally, he naturally added two lines.
[The brooch is lovely. I'm wearing it today too.]
[Have fun at home. I (crossed out) we are waiting for you to come back.]
Ron happened to look up, his gaze lingering on those two lines.
He looked at Harry, then down at his own parchment, and opened his mouth. In the end, however, he said nothing and merely folded his letter in silence.
They were both writing to Malfoy, after all.
Why did it seem a little different once it was written down?
After sorting out the letters, the two took out the treats they had set aside earlier, packed them into a small gift box, and added a card addressed to Pip.
Without all four keys together, they could not enter the garden for now.
But although they could not go in themselves, they could send the treats ahead.
Harry touched the Winter Key to the box, poured magic into it, and gently turned it.
The gift box vanished without a sound, delivered into his storage space inside the garden.
In the Winter Garden, Pip soon discovered this extra item.
The card had its name on it, and the treats were for it too.
Holding the card, the house-elf's eyes lit up the moment it read, "Once term starts, all four of us will come visit you again."
Its broad hat brim slid all the way down to the tip of its nose, but it did not even spare a hand to push it back up.
"Pip's Christmas present! Pip! Pip!"
The house-elf hugged the card tightly, its long ears quivering with delight.
By the time Harry put away the key, the common room had gradually grown quiet.
Ron gathered up the wrapping paper by his feet, then suddenly remembered something and immediately took out the chess manual he had received that morning.
"Harry, fancy a game?"
Just then, the portrait hole opened.
Percy walked in with a parcel in his hands. Spotting the two of them, he headed straight for the fireplace.
"Potter, this just arrived. It's for you."
Harry accepted it and thanked him.
The wrapping was very plain, bearing only his name, with no sender's signature. Beside all the brightly colored Christmas wrapping paper, it looked almost inconspicuous.
Ron put down the chess manual and leaned over to look.
"You've got another present?"
Harry untied the string and slowly lifted the outer paper.
A piece of silvery-gray fabric slipped into his palm.
It was very thin, but its texture was quite extraordinary. Firelight fell upon it and flowed gently, and even the edges of the fabric were somewhat difficult to make out.
Harry's hands paused briefly.
This color, and this texture...
He suddenly remembered that, in the original story, there should have been another special present this Christmas.
Then he saw the note tucked into the fabric.
[This once belonged to your father.]
[I have kept it safe for him for many years. Now it should return to you.]
[Use it wisely.]
[Merry Christmas.]
There was no signature.
Harry gently set the note on the table. The silvery-gray fabric still lay across his palm, so light it seemed almost weightless.
Ron sensed something too, and his voice unconsciously dropped.
"Harry, what is this...?"
Harry did not answer. He unfolded the fabric a little and gently draped it over his left hand.
The next moment, that hand, along with the fabric covering it, vanished from their sight.
Ron's eyes widened.
Late that night, Malfoy Manor had already fallen quiet.
In Draco's room, only the little lights on the Christmas tree remained lit.
Their warm glow filtered through the branches, scattering tiny shadows across the carpet and illuminating the golden hair falling beside her shoulders.
The girl sat beside the tree, hugging her knees.
Inside the Snow Globe by her hand, fine snow slowly rose, and starlight illuminated the little black-haired figure wearing glasses.
She watched for a while, then reached out a finger and gently touched his head through the glass.
The image of Potter standing there waving to her when he left suddenly surfaced again.
And the way he sometimes looked at her expectantly, yet with a hint of a smile, waiting for her to speak...
Draco pressed her lips together and tapped the glass again with her fingertip.
If that idiot could be good and do as he was told all the time, that would be rather nice.
Come to think of it, I really could get a puppy.
Preferably a black one.
Whenever it saw me coming home, it would run happily to my feet, lift its head, and wag its tail nonstop.
As for its name...
"I'll just call it Harry."
After saying it softly, the girl immediately felt that this was an excellent idea.
That way, I could call him by his name openly.
Whenever I wanted to pat his head, I could simply reach out and do it. Even if I mussed that black fur into a complete mess, he could only obediently lift his head and keep looking at me.
"I'll pat it as many times as I please."
The corners of her mouth rose higher and higher, and she even added seriously, "Maybe I could even teach it to call me Mistress..."
Her hand lifted unconsciously, as though there really were a little furry head beneath it.
The next moment, the girl suddenly froze.
Harry?
Mistress?
She slowly lowered her head and looked at her hand suspended in midair. Her cheeks instantly grew hot.
Why did I have to choose that name?
And what exactly was I wanting to pat just now-a puppy, or-
Draco shook her head hard, her golden hair swaying across her shoulders.
"What nonsense am I thinking about now!"
She cast a guilty glance at the door and hurriedly tucked her hand back into her sleeve, too embarrassed even to look for long at the little sparkling star atop the tree.
It had to be that idiot's fault.
Who told him to keep looking like that, making people want to touch his head!
Only after a while did the heat in her face slowly fade.
Draco rested her hands on her knees again. Her sleeve slipped back a little, revealing the thin Red String.
As her fingertip brushed the knot, a familiar sentence suddenly floated into her mind.
She lowered her head to look at her fingers, and those jumbled thoughts gradually quieted.
"We made a promise, Potter."
The corners of the girl's mouth curved upward again, and she gently touched her little finger.
Then Draco remembered that silver flight feather.
She also remembered Potter's eyes suddenly lighting up when he mastered a new spell; the steps that always carried him closer whenever he saw something novel; and the way he flew forward into the wind after mounting a broomstick.
She liked seeing Potter like that, though sometimes he really did make her so angry she wanted to crack his head open.
There were still so many interesting things in the magical world. That idiot would surely want to see them all.
Then keep happily going to see them, to learn, and to do the things you love.
She could never quite say all of this to his face, so in the end, she had hidden it all inside that silver feather.
Outside the window, snow fell silently.
Draco straightened the Snow Globe so that all four little figures beneath the tree faced her, then raised her head to look at the star atop the tree.
Christmas would soon be over.
I wonder whether that idiot is asleep yet.
She gave a soft laugh and spoke these feelings, which she had no intention of telling him for now, to the quiet night first.
"Merry Christmas, the brilliant Harry Potter."
"If you want to fly, then go fly. Fly wherever you want to go."
The girl gazed at the star atop the tree, a little more of a smile quietly appearing on her lips.
She lowered her eyes and gently hooked a fingertip around the Red String on her wrist.
"But..."
"The kite's string has to stay firmly in my hands..."
Seeing this book's stats, along with so many readers' comments urging me to update and all the gifts, I honestly feel rather overwhelmed and flattered.
Thank you so much for all your support and gifts. I'll work hard to put out extra updates.
Thank you once again to all my readers. Love you all!
Before you continue