The days of hanging out at Hogwarts

Push the door and enter the house.

Bright lights came into view, and the rich aroma of fried meat hit my face, and the fatigue of the journey dissipated.

The moment Hermione entered the door, she threw away the composure of Miss Know-it-all, handed the thick coat to Loren beside her, smiled with her eyes narrowed into crescents, and ran into the kitchen excitedly: "Mom! I'm back!"

Then Monica's slightly helpless voice came from the kitchen: "My dear Hermione, I can't cook if you hug me like this..."

"Hehe..."

"Is there any news recently?"

Loren hung the coat in his hand on the hanger behind the door and walked towards Wendell who was reading a newspaper at the dining table. With his emotional intelligence, he would definitely not let the atmosphere become stiff. "When I came back, I saw someone protesting outside the station. There is no rest on Christmas. It is the announcement of What new policies are there?"

"It's not a new policy. It was promulgated last year. Now they are making a fuss because the next election is about to start."

When the topic does not involve fishing, Wendell is still the calm dentist, "Nothing worth noting, let's talk about your magic school. How is this semester?"

"It should be quite calm. The Ministry of Magic is still the same. It doesn't look like a government at all..."

"..."

In most cases, keyboard politics and denouncing the stupidity of those in power can always successfully open up topics between men. As Bates, who parked behind, entered the house and joined in, the atmosphere of the discussion became more and more heated.

"Shut up and eat, gentlemen."

Monica, wearing an apron and thick gloves, held the soup pot that had just been opened. The steam made the lights in the restaurant a little hazy: "You finally went home for Christmas, Loren, I thought you were going to stay at school again. Try the red wine stewed beef I made according to the recipe. Hmm... It seems that there is not enough red wine."

"I think the taste is perfect." Hermione stood beside and retorted..

"Oh! You ate in advance!" Loren deliberately dragged out his voice, "You kept talking about dinner at home on the train. Did you plan it on the way? You are such a cunning guy!"

Monica ordered her husband to the kitchen to serve the food. She sat next to the two of them with a smile and sighed sadly: "So that's how it is. No wonder Hermione went straight to the kitchen as soon as she got home."

"Mom..."

Hermione knew they were teasing her, but she still pulled her mother's arm and shook it. Her eyes were shining in the light, and the warm water vapor stuck a strand of fine hair to the corner of her mouth.

Strictly speaking, British food is always the same. The main dishes are nothing more than fried beef and mutton steaks in different ways, as well as various meat pies, and some vegetables and fruits cooked in monotonous ways. The staple food bread is enough to fill you up.

Such dishes are not bad, nor are they amazing. They just fill your stomach plainly and make you feel warm all over and don't want to move.

After dinner, Loren sat on the sofa and listened to their conversation, mainly Bates and Wendell, about the next prime minister, the differences between the Labour Party and the Conservative Party, the Queen's health and so on.

Hermione came out of the kitchen and sat next to him, handing him an apple pudding: "It was also made by my mother according to the recipe. I used the freezing spell to speed up the solidification process a little bit. Try it."

"Tsk! Another practical magic trick of Professor Granger."

Loren scooped a spoonful and put it in his mouth. It was cool and a little sweet.

"Is it delicious?"

Loren saw Monica's expectant look from the corner of his eye. Although he didn't like apple-flavored pudding very much, he still tasted it with concentration, nodded and said loudly:

"It's delicious. The apple flesh is still crisp and sweet. The pudding is just right. It's not too soft or too hard..."

"As long as you like it, it's my first time making it..."

Monica looked calm and looked at Loren more gently. "How long will you stay at home during this holiday?"

"About a week."

Hermione held an apple in her mouth, and her voice was a little sticky: "We will go to our friend's house on Boxing Day, the 26th, to help decorate the wedding. The wedding of a pure-blood wizard and a Muggle lady should be very interesting."

"A wizard's wedding..."

Watching the two people fighting for the last piece of pudding, Monica didn't know what she thought of, and couldn't help but smile.

...

December 22, winter solstice

When I woke up in the morning, I found that the sky suddenly cleared up and turned into a bright and dazzling egg white color. The sun was warm, and the snow was crystal clear and reflective. The bright scene made my breathing smoother.

Loren wore a striped sweater on the outside. The main body was thick black and white stripes, unevenly interspersed with blue-brown thin stripes. The style was loose and the temperament was lazy.

They took over the task of decorating the Christmas tree from their parents.

Hermione wore a sweater of the same style, with a softer beige color. She held the colored paper star ornaments she cut in her hand and slightly raised her feet to hang them on the high branches. She looked focused and serious, meticulous, and the sweater was pulled by the force, outlining the beautiful waist curve.

Battery-powered colored lights, bright glass ornaments, artificial plastic colored flowers...

Loren took a branch of mistletoe and slowly hung it on the door frame, glancing at the girl who was raising her feet to hang holly from time to time: "Some things should be done by yourself."

"Hmm..."

Hermione concentrated on decorating the wall and was in a happy mood, fully noticing his wandering gaze. "You know, Loren, using holly for Christmas decorations may have evolved from ancient Roman customs. The Romans at that time would Celebrating the year's harvest in mid-December, the thorns on the holly symbolize protection and the berries symbolize harvest."

"I don't know about this, but I know some customs related to mistletoe..." Loren hung up the branches, stretched out his slightly wrinkled sweater, and walked towards Hermione, who was adjusting the angle of the branches.

"What custom?"

"Young men and women in love who kiss under the mistletoe will be blessed." Loren stepped on her feet and stretched out her hand to straighten the holly for her.

"!!"

Hermione turned around quickly, keeping a watchful eye on him, and glanced at the mistletoe branches behind her from the corner of her eye.

There is also the second half of the weird custom. After kissing, you need to pick a fruit. After picking the fruit, no more kissing is allowed down there.

Unfortunately, the small white berries of the mistletoe are crowded together three by two, so densely packed that you can count at least a hundred at a glance.

"..."

Hermione was a little silent, her cheeks starting to turn red and hot.

A smile gradually appeared on Loren's face, and he looked down at her slightly. The shadow cast by her slender eyelashes fell into his eyes, and the clear reflection was filled with water-like irritation.

The branches of holly carry small red berries, and the branches of mistletoe carry small white berries, adding a touch of color to the monotonous winter. The dazzling opalescent skylight shines on the branches, and the shadows of the branches and leaves extending along the wall are like a small tree growing wantonly. Bright flowers bloom elsewhere, and two embracing figures cast on the plain white wall.

…

Christmas Eve, Hogwarts.

After the sun went down, the temperature became even colder. In the clock tower on the west side of the castle, the deep sound of the old clock penetrated the layers of clouds and mist, and the final sound trembled and lingered for a long time.

In the principal's office, Dumbledore stood in front of the fire like a child, warming himself by the fire with a smile on his face, and eagerly watching the sugar cubes melting in the cup.

Snape sat in front of the desk and spoke softly: "Malfoy invited many officials to the Boxing Day dinner, where they planned to use the Imperius Curse to control Fudge and control the Ministry of Magic and Azkaban."

"It's more urgent than I expected. I thought Voldemort would wait until he got the prophecy ball or... a new wand before taking action."

Dumbledore picked up the cup and took a sip, exhaling a long and comfortable sigh: "So how is he going to deal with me, an old man, and how is he going to deal with his destined nemesis who has thwarted him many times?"

"Luring Potter into the Department of Mysteries and forcing him to take off the prophecy ball. As for you..." Snape turned his head and looked at the principal, frowning slightly, "He has no plan, at least he didn't tell me how to deal with it. Your plan.”

"Well...it seems like he hasn't put all his trust in you yet."

"He wouldn't trust anyone."

"It's just as we expected." Dumbledore sighed, seeming to feel a little pity, "So... do you have any clues about the number and whereabouts of Horcruxes?"

"No, there is no valuable information at all." Snape's voice was calm and expressionless, "I tested the number of Horcruxes that night, and his answer was that the more the better, every Horcrux is It's an arrow that pierces the heart of Death."

Dumbledore shook his head and said in a calm voice: "He did not defeat Death... No matter how cold the soul is, it cannot be divided infinitely. There must be a special number..."

The orange firelight illuminated his blue eyes. Dumbledore paused, with a hint of smile in his voice: "I thought of an old friend..."

"who?"

Dumbledore didn't answer for a while, he just stared at the flames and nodded slightly, as if sorting out the thoughts in his mind. After a long time, he slowly turned his head: "Severus, I don't think students can live without dark magic." Professor of Defense, what do you think?"

Snape's expression became a little subtle, and his stagnant eyes became turbulent: "What do you mean?"

"I have a great idea, but I plan to wait until next semester to inform you." Dumbledore seemed to have remembered something interesting, with a smile in his voice.

"..."

Snape looked at him quietly, not bothering to continue the topic: "Rukewood led people to search for the people in the photos. It is said that they were found in Godric's Hollow. Do you need me to investigate the details?"

Dumbledore held the cup and did not reply immediately. The beating flame seemed to turn into long golden hair, bringing back unknown and profound memories. After a long silence, he slowly shook his head:

"Let them find it."

…

In the underground kitchen, an elf in an apron is running around in the kitchen, preparing for tomorrow's Christmas dinner.

The turkey is smothered in sauce, the meat and vegetables are portioned and frozen, and the professors’ favorite dishes are ready and ready to cook…

"Alas……"

Dobby held up a package and ran very fast with his feet swinging. His thin figure circled around the underground kitchen, as if his heart was about to fly out of joy at any time.

"Dobby is a free elf!"

"Dobby has a Christmas present every year!"

He really wanted to take a closer look at the envious expressions on each elf's face, and then record them all with a camera.

Unfortunately, the other elves also received Dumbledore's gifts. They were touched and felt guilty, thinking that Dobby had misled and deceived the headmaster. They didn't need gifts. How could a qualified house elf cause trouble to his employer?

It was all Dobby's fault. It was all Dobby's fault!

"..."

Sparkling, who was sitting next to the fireplace, picked up the unwrapped greeting card on the ground and stopped him when he passed by: "There is another paragraph behind. Mr. Potter said that his godfather is going to hold a wedding and wants to ask you for help."

"Wedding!" Dobby's eyes lit up, "Mr. Potter invited Dobby to attend the wedding. Dobby is a guest!"

Another circle of cheering and running.

Not far away, Xiaomai looked at his cheering figure, with clear envy in his eyes.

Going back to a year ago, he would be so happy to receive Mr. Morgan's Christmas gift at that time, laughing so loudly, showing off to a few elves who had a good relationship with him, pretending not to care and secretly glancing at their envious expressions, secretly happy in his heart.

But now...

Beside him lay an unopened package, which contained, as expected, another headache-inducing history book. Attached to the package were two beautiful greeting cards, with delicate workmanship and exquisite patterns, and hollowed-out edges with holly stripes.

One was from Mr. Morgan, and the other was from Miss Granger.

...

The fog in the Forbidden Forest was getting thicker, and the flying snowflakes were getting denser.

Hagrid took off the scarf around his neck, changed into pajamas and shoes, and put on a nightcap, all made of wool. He couldn't count how many sheep Grawp had eaten in the past six months, but his bedding and winter clothes were all made of wool, and the extra ones could even be used to knit a scarf for Harry and Loren as Christmas gifts.

"Grawp's cave should also have some wool blankets."

He also considered building a wooden house for Grawp, but this fragile building material could not withstand the collision of the giant turning over, so he had to give up.

Grawp is now placed in a cave not far from the nest of the Acromantula, and the two sides get along peacefully.

Hagrid muttered, and sat down in front of the fire to drink some hot oatmeal.

The firewood was a little wet, and the fire was not strong enough. He moved forward to get close to the fire, grabbed the little pink umbrella and pointed, and the burst of flames immediately jumped up and burned a wisp of his beard.

The fireplace was a bit old, built by the previous gamekeeper. Some shadows of carvings could be seen in the part blackened by the ash, and the story of the four giants establishing the school could be vaguely recognized.

"Should I take Grawp to the Christmas party..."

"Although Dumbledore agreed, Professor McGonagall..."

Somehow, Hagrid suddenly had a picture of Professor Flitwick sitting with Grawp in his mind, and he couldn't help but chuckle, and couldn't stop coughing.

Christmas in 1995 came in such laughter.