Mrs. Wick held her child in her arms.
"You're back, John."
This was the first time in six years that John had come home for Christmas.
Watson happily gave John's shoulder a solid pat.
Then Watson retreated, startled by the murderous look Mrs. Wick shot him.
Silverhand Manor was vast, yet it never quite felt like home.
When John returned, his room was always spotless.
No matter when it was, Mrs. Wick would always make sure everything was neatly arranged for him.
When Watson heard that the grey owl was meant for his own owl, he was immediately delighted and used his owl to send John a letter.
John looked at his old man in speechless disbelief.
"Come on, let's give you a name. If you like it, you can use it," Watson said, still full of enthusiasm after dinner.
Owl: Hoot!
"Let's call you… Basil the Second."
Owl: "..."
Watson delivered the name with great confidence, earning a look from the grey owl that clearly said he was an idiot.
Evidently, the grey owl that had just been swatted three meters away by Basil with a single wing was not fond of that name.
Watson suggested a few more names, and finally stopped at the name "Qiqi."
But the sound that followed left Watson confused.
"Roar—"
Watson dug a finger into his ear and asked blankly, "Do owls sound like that?"
John replied calmly, "There are differences in potential between owls."
"But that's clearly not an owl's call," Watson said with a look that clearly said you've got to be kidding me. "That sounded like a dragon's roar."
"Dad," John shook his head regretfully, "you should get your eyes checked. How could an owl possibly be a dragon?"
Although Watson felt there was some logic to it, when he looked at that big head and round face, it still didn't seem quite right.
In the end, Mrs. Wick unconditionally believed her son and told Watson that if he didn't want to sleep on the sofa, he should stop asking questions.
Watson had no choice but to accept that the owl in their household simply had a very strange call.
Tomorrow was Christmas.
John's return made this Christmas especially lively.
Three owls sat in a neat row.
Below them, Tom looked up at the trio, her dog paws scratching furiously at the cabinet, sending wood shavings flying.
Fortunately, Mrs. Wick quite liked the little one she had chosen herself. She let her jump onto the sofa, Tom resting her head on Mrs. Wick's lap as she was gently stroked.
Tom wagged her tail smugly, which made Basil on top of the cabinet extremely displeased.
It swooped down and plucked a tuft of fur from Tom's tail with its beak.
A full-blown cat-and-dog battle immediately broke out in the house. Well, an owl counted as a cat, right?
Snow fell from the sky.
A frosty Christmas turned the land white.
The next day.
The Wick household lit the fireplace, flames burning brightly.
Tom lay sprawled on the carpet, facing the fireplace, looking utterly content.
John received Christmas cards sent by Neville and the others.
Cedric sent him a letter containing sand from Egypt.
He had traveled to Egypt and even encountered wizards there.
Neville sent John a piece of clothing with exceptional elasticity and durability.
Daphne sent a gift box, which contained a scarf and a pocket watch.
John opened the pocket watch. It was custom-made, with the hands crafted from gold, silver, and gemstones.
Percy sent an alchemy book, though John had already read it. Percy didn't know that.
Fleur sent an exquisitely beautiful necklace. It looked like a women's piece.
John said, puzzled, "Last year it was ladies' perfume, and this time it's a necklace?"
He couldn't quite make sense of it. Was she treating him like a young girl?
He put the necklace away. Last year's perfume had even been accidentally knocked over by Tom.
This year, his uncles sent gifts again, and there was nothing inappropriate about them.
It was a witcher's silver medallion.
A dragon was engraved on it.
It seemed that after John told them about the witchers of that world, they had recreated it specially.
He casually opened the broom-trimming shears Malfoy had sent, with a Quidditch book included inside.
Clearly, Malfoy hadn't given up. To avoid becoming the Slytherin captain nailed to the pillar of shame, he was planning to drag John in to cheat his way through.
Unfortunately, John had no intention of playing Quidditch.
Even the maintenance of his Firebolt was handled by Malfoy.
While opening the gift boxes, John saw Riddle fly back in from outside.
A short while later, Basil returned as well, a brown feather stuck to its talon.
It also brought back a copy of the Daily Prophet. Judging by the timing, it had probably gone out to beat up another owl again.
John opened the newspaper and glanced through it. Lockhart, that attention-seeking show-off, was still holding autograph sessions even during the holidays.
That said, he had to admit that Lockhart's fearlessness, or rather his complete disregard for Voldemort, had somewhat eased the recent panic over "Voldemort committing crimes again."
He had even gone to the Inverted Garden to oversee a stage play rehearsal, and had personally gone onstage to perform his new story.
"Pfft~ This guy's really something else. If I were Voldemort, he'd be the first one I'd kill."
Looking at the photo of Lockhart performing the story titled The Great Wizard Lockhart Battles Voldemort Three Times, John almost felt like applauding him.
For Voldemort to tolerate even this, it seemed his intelligence had finally come back after his soul returned.
…
Harry was spending Christmas at the Burrow.
Sirius shouted at Kreacher for the thirteenth time, driving the elderly house-elf into the kitchen and forbidding him from coming out.
All the Christmas decorations they had put up had been completely cleared away by Kreacher under the excuse of cleaning.
Overnight, everything returned to how it used to be.
As Kreacher left, he was still muttering curses about the two of them under his breath.
With someone like that around, it was indeed hard to have a pleasant Christmas.
When they went to the Burrow, it naturally made Mrs. Weasley very happy.
Upon arriving at the Burrow, the place was lively.
The living room had been decorated by Ginny in a riot of colors, lush and overflowing, as if a paper-chain explosion had gone off.
There was even a little angel on top of the Christmas tree. On closer inspection, it was actually a garden gnome.
The poor gnome had bitten Fred when he was pulling up carrots, and as a result, it had been knocked out with a Stunning Spell, painted gold, disgracefully stuffed into a tiny ballet skirt, and glued with wings.
It was without a doubt the ugliest angel imaginable, easily comparable to the Cupids Lockhart had come up with back in second year.
Mrs. Weasley was cooking a delicious Christmas lunch while the radio played a Christmas broadcast.
It was her favorite singer, Celestina Warbeck.
The song A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love blared from the radio, tormenting everyone like pure noise.
At the very least, it wasn't the kind of song many people actually enjoyed.
Sirius muttered a few complaints and was immediately glared into silence by Mrs. Weasley.
Ginny was wearing a brand-new hat, a gift from Percy.
Ron's eyebrows had finally returned to normal, and his height had recovered as well.
Harry saw Bill arrive with Fleur, and the moment Mrs. Weasley noticed her son, the joy on her face vanished.
She asked in a low voice, "Percy didn't come back?"
Ron was still holding a grudge over being disciplined by Percy's Transfiguration. "He'd better not come back."
After Fleur arrived at the Burrow, she sat together with Bill.
Ginny noticed a maggot on Harry's head and warned him across the table.
Harry took the worm off, and Fleur said, "Oh, how disgusting."
It was a gift Kreacher had deliberately prepared for his master, Sirius, but Harry had accidentally opened it instead.
"Exactly," Ron agreed wholeheartedly, trying to be helpful. "Want some gravy?"
Ginny shot him a look full of disdain.
Ron clumsily knocked the gravy flying. Bill was just about to pull out his wand when Fleur snapped her fingers.
The gravy lifted into the air and smoothly floated over to Fleur.
"Just right," Fleur said, ladling herself a spoonful.
Bill watched helplessly as Mrs. Weasley set down a plate of carrots with a heavy thud.
"I invited dear Tonks," Mrs. Weasley said deliberately loudly, "but she wouldn't come. Have you spoken to her recently, Remus?"
Lupin looked helpless. "Tonks is going back to her own family home, isn't she?"
"Maybe," Mrs. Weasley replied. "I get the feeling she plans to spend Christmas by herself."
Mrs. Weasley shot Lupin an annoyed look, as if Tonks's refusal to become a Weasley daughter-in-law were somehow his fault.
Lupin understood perfectly well why Tonks hadn't come.
Sometimes, Mrs. Weasley could be a little too blunt about certain things.
Lowering his head to eat his turkey, Lupin suddenly heard Mrs. Weasley scream, "It's Arthur, and… Percy!"
She stared through the kitchen window at the approaching father and son.
The two of them didn't speak at all, like complete strangers.
One after the other, they returned to the Burrow.
The back door opened, and Mr. Weasley laughed loudly. "Merry Christmas, everyone."
Percy walked in, his cloak dusted with snowflakes, and said stiffly, "Merry Christmas."
His gaze swept across the people in the living room, but Percy said nothing more.
"Oh—Percy!" Fleur greeted him warmly, running over and grabbing his face for a cheek kiss.
"Merry Christmas, Fleur," Percy said flatly as he pushed her away.
Seeing this, Mrs. Weasley shot Fleur a glare and walked over to hug her son.
"Merry Christmas, Mum." Percy handed Mrs. Weasley a ribbon-tied gift.
Mrs. Weasley was delighted. When she opened it, inside was a luxurious, beautiful hat.
Ginny looked at the one on her own head, then at Mrs. Weasley's.
She pursed her lips. Seeing her expression, Percy smiled for the first time and said, "Merry Christmas, Ginny."
Ginny snorted softly. Understanding his sister well, Percy added, "If you go to your room, you'll find there's another present waiting for you."
"M-Merry Christmas, Percy!" Ginny said hurriedly as she jumped to her feet and ran upstairs to her room.
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