Chapter 60: A Less Pleasant Christmas
Chapter 60: A Less Pleasant Christmas
Since the magical world has luck potions that can make people fortunate, it stands to reason that curses that bring bad luck also exist.
Dumbledore had not initially considered the possibility of a curse.
After all, such dark spells are so rare that most people have never even heard of them.
Even if someone knew them, the number of wizards capable of casting a curse without anyone noticing could be counted on one hand, from ancient times to the present.
But today's misfortunes were truly bizarre, and Dumbledore felt compelled to conduct a thorough examination of himself.
The results were clear.
He had no curses on him.
This left him in deep thought.
What was going on today?
Was it really just a case of extremely bad luck?
These kinds of questions are so esoteric that even Dumbledore, the greatest white wizard of the twentieth century, with his unparalleled knowledge of magic, couldn't easily figure them out.
Just as the gift of prophecy is not something everyone possesses, most people can't pierce the veil of illusion to see the future.
Dumbledore didn't dwell on what he couldn't understand.
After all, from what he could see so far, today's bad luck wasn't severe enough to put his life in danger.
At worst, it would just make his Christmas a bit less pleasant.
But with Dumbledore's mindset, such a minor issue wouldn't affect his mood.
Looking at it from another angle, experiencing a day full of misfortune and outsmarting it could be quite interesting, couldn't it?
With a relaxed expression, Dumbledore casually waved his wand, repairing the broken glass and sitting back down in his chair.
"Delis, could you go to the Great Hall and check on the preparations for me?"
In the row of portraits of former headmasters on the wall, an elderly, kind-looking witch opened her sleepy eyes.
"I'll go right away, but you should be more careful, Albus. You should eat fewer Cockroach Clusters. I've told you before, you can't tell the difference between real cockroaches and candy shaped like cockroaches."
Delis then disappeared from her portrait.
Dumbledore nodded lightly, as if acknowledging her words, but his aged hand still reached into the box of Cockroach Clusters and pulled one out.
"I don't think you're a real cockroach, are you?"
He applied a bit of pressure, and instead of a burst of golden honey, he felt a hard texture, and the six legs of the cockroach wriggled more vigorously.
"Smash!"
Dumbledore sighed and threw it to the ground, crushing it with his foot, muttering to himself.
"Truly terrible."
From the wall of portraits of former headmasters, a faint giggle echoed.
As night fell, the snow-covered Hogwarts Castle lit up with a warm, golden glow.
The Great Hall, decked out in Christmas decorations, was filled with all the students and staff who had stayed at the school.
There weren't many students left, so the feast wasn't divided into the four houses. Instead, everyone, professors and students alike, gathered around a single long table, waiting for the feast to begin.
Before the meal, the ghosts of Hogwarts formed a choir and were performing a Christmas carol on the stage.
The most mischievous of all the ghosts, Peeves, had been caught and, under the direction of the Bloody Baron, was suspended above the stage with a red nose and reindeer antlers, serving as the mascot for the ghost band.
The small, intimate gathering gave a warm and cozy feeling, and Headmaster Dumbledore kept his pre-feast speech brief.
After a simple and heartfelt blessing, they began to enjoy tonight's Christmas feast.
Sherlock sat across from Harry and Ron.
He could feel their faces stiffen as he took his seat.
They seemed to want to leave and find a new spot, but they felt it would be impolite, so they remained tense, trying to avoid making eye contact with Sherlock.
Sherlock looked at them curiously.
He remembered that he hadn't punished these two troublemakers, so why did they always act like mice seeing a cat, wishing they could find a hole to hide in whenever they met him?
After the dinner started, Sherlock took a piece of Christmas pudding and slowly ate it while staring at Harry and Ron.
Harry and Ron felt uneasy under his gaze, even nervously reaching for a sausage to put on their plates.
The more they tried to avoid talking to him, the more Sherlock wanted to start a conversation.
"Why are you two the only ones staying at school for the Christmas holidays? Where's Granger?"
Harry and Ron's movements froze as they ate.
Hearing Sherlock's question, they both thought the same thing.
You should ask yourself!
Of course, they only thought it. Out loud, they smiled awkwardly and said,
"Hermione had some family matters to attend to, so she went home."
"She really wanted to stay, but she couldn't."
Sherlock didn't detect any abnormality in their words. He didn't remember from the original story whether Hermione had gone home for Christmas, so he assumed this was how it was supposed to be.
He then asked Ron why none of his brothers had come home for Christmas and mentioned that his current residence wasn't far from his aunt's house. If Harry had time during the summer, he could come to his place for help with his holiday homework.
Harry nodded and thanked Professor Forrest, though in his heart, he would rather eat bran at Aunt Petunia's than suffer Sherlock's "blessing."
Ron remained tense throughout the conversation, his eyes fixed on the cake in the center of the table.
Midway through the banquet, he found a moment when Sherlock was chatting with Harry and leaned forward to cut a piece of cake for himself.
However, the cake was a bit too far away, and Ron's efforts to cut it were a bit clumsy.
Just then, Sherlock casually asked,
"How has your Christmas holiday been so far?"
Ron's body jerked in fright, and his hand slipped, causing the slice of cake he had just cut to fly out!
The cake traced a perfect parabolic arc across the table and landed on Dumbledore's head as he was chatting with Professor Mcgonagall!
The room fell silent.
Everyone watched quietly as Dumbledore, with a piece of cake on his head, smiled and lifted it off, then popped it into his mouth.
"Very tasty, Weasley. Thank you for the gift. I suggest you try it as well."
Everyone at the table burst into laughter, and the atmosphere became lively again.
Only Professor Mcgonagall, sitting beside Dumbledore, noticed him discreetly spitting out cake crumbs and hair.
(End of Chapter)
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