Ch 114
Christmas was approaching, and many Hogwarts students chose to return home to spend the holiday with their families.
But Harry, Ron, and Hermione all decided to stay.
Harry knew very well that the two of them were really staying for his sake.
Ever since returning from Hogsmeade last time, his mood had been sinking lower and lower. He felt miserable. Anyone who learned such a cruel truth would feel the same—especially when it had been hidden from him by the people closest to him. Why had no one ever told him that his parents were betrayed and killed by their best friend?
"Harry, you need to calm down. They didn't tell you because they were afraid you'd do something reckless," Hermione said seriously, standing beside the fireplace and looking straight at him.
"Yeah. Black just wants you to know the truth so he can set a trap and wait for you to walk right into it," Ron added anxiously.
Perhaps the only thing that comforted Harry was that Hermione and Ron had temporarily reconciled because of him.
He knew Hermione had been worried sick after that day and had even taken the initiative to find Ron so they could persuade him together.
But the hatred in Harry's heart was like a poison with no cure. The image from the newspaper—Black laughing wildly—kept flashing through his mind. He could almost see him blowing his father's friend to pieces on a crowded street. No matter how his friends tried to comfort him, it didn't help at all.
"You don't look well, Harry."
"I'm fine." Harry forced a smile.
"That's the fakest smile I've ever seen," Ron said bluntly. After all this time together, he could tell immediately.
Harry missed Hagrid terribly as well. No one knew where Hagrid had gone, and there hadn't been a single piece of news about him. They were all worried.
When Christmas Day finally arrived, Harry received presents from all kinds of people, including a scarlet knitted jumper from Mrs. Weasley.
But what shocked him most was a brand-new broom.
Firebolt!
Exquisite craftsmanship, smooth elegant lines, perfect balance—a top-class racing broom!
He and Ron spent almost the entire morning studying it in awe. Harry felt excitement bubbling up inside him. With this broom, his chances in the coming matches would soar.
They guessed over and over who could have sent it, but none of their ideas seemed convincing.
Hermione soon came to meet them in the common room. Instead of congratulating Harry, she advised him not to use the broom at all. She suspected it might be a trap and could even be dangerous.
"Oh please—so you think Sirius Black sent Harry a Firebolt just to murder him? What's the plan, make him win the Quidditch Cup and die of happiness?" Ron snapped impatiently.
In the end, Hermione and Ron quarreled again—this time over Scabbers and Crookshanks. They retreated to opposite corners of the room, and Hermione kept glancing suspiciously at the broom as though it had personally offended her.
At lunchtime everyone went down to the Great Hall. The house tables had been pushed against the walls, leaving a single table for twelve in the center. Professor Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, Flitwick, and Filch were already there. Filch had replaced his usual brown coat with a terribly old-fashioned tuxedo. Besides them sat a first-year Gryffindor, and Malfoy with Pansy from Slytherin.
"I really don't get why they stayed at school," Ron muttered to Harry, clearly unhappy to see the person who had "saved" him in name.
Harry said nothing.
Hermione, seeing Malfoy, suddenly remembered what she had overheard in Hogsmeade.
She hadn't dared get too close at the time, afraid of being noticed, but the scene felt strangely familiar now. Toward the end, Malfoy and Fudge had spoken so quietly she couldn't hear clearly, yet she had caught a few key phrases: Black, big news, saving reputation. She guessed Malfoy had found some information about Black and was using it to help Fudge restore his standing.
Although she disliked the Minister's attitude, she still believed Fudge was on their side. His anger when speaking about Black had felt genuine.
Her worry for Harry had eased a little then. She believed Black would soon be captured. Fudge's excited expression had stayed firmly in her mind—she was sure he would have danced on the spot if he didn't care about appearances.
She hadn't listened any longer, rushing off to find Harry instead.
To avoid more conflict, she had kept what she heard to herself. She knew Ron's prejudice against Malfoy too well; telling him would only cause more trouble.
"Merry Christmas!" Dumbledore said cheerfully as they approached. "There are so few of us, it seems silly to use all the house tables… sit down, sit down!"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione took seats at the end.
"Cracker!" Dumbledore exclaimed, offering the end of a huge silver Christmas cracker to Snape. Snape reluctantly pulled it. The cracker exploded like a cannon, revealing a large witch's hat topped with a stuffed eagle.
Pansy burst out laughing. Snape's face remained expressionless—he tolerated Slytherin students well enough, especially on holidays.
Harry and Ron grinned too, though more carefully.
Snape pushed the hat toward Dumbledore, who immediately replaced his own with it.
"Let's eat!" Dumbledore announced.
"When are we leaving?" Pansy leaned toward Malfoy and whispered. He had promised a secret weapon for the team during Christmas training, and she was thrilled. The rest of the team had already gone ahead; she had stayed to wait for him.
"Soon. After the meal," Malfoy replied. "We won't have time to eat on the way."
"Don't get too excited. This training will cost you your holiday. Be ready to suffer."
"As long as we win the championship, anything's fine," Pansy said, eyes shining.
"They have no idea you've got the world's best broom now," Ron whispered to Harry with a grin. "That's a real secret weapon."
"In the end it'll depend on us," Harry replied, unable to hide his eagerness to see Slytherin's shocked faces.
Unfortunately, the round-robin system meant they wouldn't meet Slytherin again this season, which disappointed him a little.
"Why didn't you let me go to Hogsmeade last time? You left me alone at school," Pansy suddenly complained.
"Small punishment for drinking before you're old enough," Malfoy answered, handing her a cup of honey tea.
"Oh… fine." She accepted it but didn't drink.
"The sausages are excellent, aren't they?" Dumbledore asked Malfoy kindly.
"Of course, Professor." Malfoy nodded politely.
At that moment the hall doors opened and Professor Trelawney glided in, dressed in a glittering green gown that made her resemble an enormous dragonfly.
"Sybil, delighted you could join us!" Dumbledore began to rise—
—but a sharp bark erupted from under the table.
"Scabbers, what's wrong with you?" Ron cried.
The rat leapt from his arms onto the table, scattering plates as it fled wildly, then vanished toward the door.
"Don't look at me," Hermione said quickly. "Crookshanks is locked in the dorm."
"Never seen a rat scared by a dog before," Pansy giggled. "Your family pets are strange, Weasley."
Ron glared but had no time to argue.
"What a lively creature," Dumbledore chuckled.
"Weasley, your brothers again," Malfoy said, pulling a striped red trumpet from beneath the table leg. He pressed it—
"Meow—"
Then again—
"Croak—"
Dumbledore laughed delightedly.
"Oh Sybil, do sit down!"
"I dare not!" Trelawney cried. "Thirteen at table is the worst omen. The first to rise will be the first to die!"
"We'll risk it," McGonagall said briskly.
"No need. I'll leave," Malfoy stood. "I'm full anyway. Pansy, meet me at the door in two hours."
He paused beside Trelawney and murmured,
"Now you'll be twelve. Nothing to worry about."
She hesitated, then sat.
"Let's continue," Dumbledore said, raising his glass.
Only Ron kept staring toward the exit, worried about Scabbers.
Malfoy paused at the doorway.
Looks like the rat was the first to leave the table.
"You're the thirteenth, Peter," he thought quietly, stepping out.