Chapter 16
With only a few days left until Christmas, a festive atmosphere quietly settled over the entire school.
Smiles appeared on everyone's faces without them even realizing it. During classes, half their attention stayed on the lesson while the other half drifted outside, already planning what they would do over the Christmas holidays.
The Great Hall had been redecorated once again. Garlands of holly and mistletoe hung in interwoven swags along the walls. Twelve towering Christmas trees stood along both sides, adorned with tiny icicles and flickering candles.
Outside, the snow was finally falling properly—not the wet, instantly melting kind from before. The cold had frozen the moisture in the air into proper flakes, and the grounds suddenly felt crisp and clean.
Snow piled up on the lawns. The lake froze solid into hard, glassy ice. In their free time, half the students were hurling snowballs at each other while the other half skated across the lake. Only a few stayed inside the common rooms, basking in the warmth of roaring fireplaces.
Gabin no longer shut himself away in the Room of Requirement or the library. He ventured outside to enjoy the rare leisure time.
And almost immediately he saw the Weasley twins using magic to send a barrage of snowballs chasing after Quirrell. One finally smacked the back of Quirrell's turban-wrapped head with a satisfying *thwack*.
Gabin's eye twitched.
If memory served, that turban currently housed the face of a certain Dark Lord.
Well done, Weasleys. Truly worthy of our king.
He watched Professor McGonagall arrive and promptly hand out detentions to the twins, then shook his head with a small sigh of amusement before heading toward the frozen lake.
Hagrid was sitting nearby, contentedly sipping from his waterskin while watching the young witches and wizards race across the ice.
"Gray."
Two large glowing words appeared right in front of Hagrid's face.
"Hm? Oh—it's you, Gray." Hagrid turned his head and spotted Gabin standing beside him.
Once Gabin sat down, they were more or less eye-to-eye.
"I've got everything you asked for. Three Galleons, eleven Sickles, and twenty-two Knuts altogether. Gave three Sickles extra to the poor owls—they've been flying across the whole continent in this weather. Figured you wouldn't mind."
"Of course not," Gabin replied with floating words.
In his previous life money had always been a constant pressure—working himself to death just to get by. This life was far easier. He only had himself to feed, after all.
The income from Forbidden Forest finds wasn't fortune-level wealth, but it was more than enough to cover pocket money throughout the school year.
And he already had other ideas for making money—though those would need a longer holiday to put into action.
"Everything's in my hut. You can go pick it up whenever you like. Oh—right." Hagrid scratched his head, blinking his beetle-black eyes with a sheepish grin.
"I saw there's a copy of *A Guide to Dragon-Keeping* in there. Heh… you interested in dragons too, Gray?"
Gabin nodded. "That one's a Christmas gift for you. Though yes—I am a bit curious about dragons."
"You think they're cute too, eh?" Hagrid's voice rose with sudden excitement, then dropped again. "Shame you can't keep one privately anymore. Book's just for looking at now—won't do much good."
Gabin gave the giant man a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
"There'll be a chance someday."
He left Hagrid with that single sentence and headed toward the hut, leaving the gamekeeper sitting alone by the lake, lost in daydreams of dragon ownership and chuckling happily to himself every few seconds.
Meanwhile, Hermione was furiously writing holiday homework while issuing instructions to the boys.
"While I'm gone, you two keep looking. If you find anything about Nicolas Flamel, send me an owl right away."
Harry and Ron exchanged a glance and nodded.
"You'd better not slack off at home either," Ron said. "Ask your parents—they might know something."
Hermione gave him a sharp look, closed the book in front of her, and let out a long breath.
She had already finished every single piece of holiday homework the professors had assigned.
"Who said I'd be slacking off at home?" she replied. "I don't spend all my time playing."
Harry eyed the thick stack of completed work she was packing into her bag.
"Then… what's all that for?"
"Finish Hogwarts homework first," Hermione explained matter-of-factly. "That way when I go to supplementary classes over the holidays, I won't have to worry about unfinished schoolwork."
Harry and Ron's jaws dropped in unison.
Hermione added casually, "Normal studies can't fall behind either. I don't want to graduate from Hogwarts and not even know how to use a computer."
"Er… computer?" Ron whispered to Harry. "What's that?"
"I've only heard of them," Harry said slowly, trying to recall something he'd glimpsed on television once. "They're… complicated machines. They have… software and hardware and stuff."
"What's software? What's hardware?" Ron pressed.
Two words he'd never heard in his life.
"It's… it's…" Harry scratched his head helplessly and looked toward Hermione.
Hermione stared at them both like they were hopeless. She gave a heavy sigh, gathered her things, and headed toward the dormitory stairs to put her homework away.
She had already given up trying to explain Muggle technology to them. Their heads were already packed full of magic—trying to squeeze in the rest of human society would probably cause their brains to crash.
Yes—crash. Another computer-derived word.
The thought made her mind wander further.
Gray… did he know about these things? He was an orphan—probably not.
In that area, she was actually ahead of him.
But strangely, the realization didn't make her feel triumphant at all.
She wouldn't stoop to comparing herself to him over something like that. It wasn't fair.
When she came back down from the dormitory, Ron was already locked in a fierce game of wizard chess against Gray. Harry sat beside them watching—clearly having just lost.
"Hmph!" Catching Gray's glance, Hermione gave a pointed huff, nose in the air, and marched straight out of the common room with quick, determined steps.
There was still some time left. She was going to the library to keep searching for information on Nicolas Flamel.
"Looks like she's finally giving you two a holiday break," Gray remarked with floating words and a small smile.
"Are you kidding?" Ron grumbled while ordering his knight forward. "She just told us to keep looking over the holidays."
Gray turned to Harry. "You know who Nicolas Flamel is, right?"
"Of course," Gray replied.
Seeing the sudden spark of hope in their eyes, he added, "You sure you want me to tell you?"
Harry and Ron remembered Hermione's earlier threat: if they asked Gray, she'd never check their homework again.
And as outsiders to the spat, they could see clearly—this was just Hermione and Gray having a childish quarrel. But if they sided with Gray now, Hermione might actually cut them off for good.
Even at twelve, Harry—who had spent years sleeping under the stairs—and Ron—who had grown up with five older brothers—understood people and relationships better than most first-years.
"Nah… never mind," they said quickly, shaking their heads and turning their attention back to the chessboard.
Gray smiled quietly and said nothing more. He continued trading pieces with Ron until only the kings and queens remained on the board.