Chapter 618: Christmas Gift Box
The last morning before Christmas, as the snow had just stopped falling, Neville stood on the Stone Steps in front of the Great Hall, his breath forming white clouds in the cold air before his face.
“Unbelievable!” Michael said, hands in his pockets, bewildered. “Tomorrow’s the Christmas Ball! And you’re leaving now? What’s so urgent it can’t wait even one night?”
Neville smiled faintly, his eyes glistening. He ran a hand over the handle of his suitcase, glanced at Wade, and whispered, “There’s something urgent at home… I have to go back.”
Not far away, Madam Longbottom was speaking quietly with Professor McGonagall. She wore a hat adorned with a vulture specimen, her thin face set in a deeply serious expression, causing several passing younger students to instinctively veer away.
“By the way, Harry,” Neville turned to face Harry, “could you please tell Ron and Ginny Weasley I’m sorry? I meant to say it last night, but once I got home, I was too busy packing—completely forgot.”
“What did you do to apologize for?” Harry asked, puzzled.
“Oh… I invited Ginny Weasley to the Ball. Now I’ll have to cancel. If she can’t go, it’ll be all my fault.”
“That’s awful,” Michael muttered, genuinely disappointed for Neville. “You don’t have to rush off just because of that!”
“Yeah,” Wade added, “a couple of days won’t make much difference.”
“I know… I know it wouldn’t matter much to them,” Neville said softly, his voice nearly swallowed by the cold wind. “But I can’t wait. My grandmother feels the same.”
Then, with quiet hope, he smiled. “I hope everything goes smoothly… I’m so sorry to Ginny. She was really looking forward to this Ball.”
Theo scratched his head. “Actually, I didn’t ask anyone to dance either. I thought it’d be too much trouble—no one really notices me anyway. Uh… I mean, if Ginny doesn’t mind, I’d be happy to take her to the Christmas Ball.”
“That’d be great!” Neville said, gratitude shining in his voice.
“Must arrive before ten,” Madam Longbottom told Professor McGonagall. “I’ve already arranged the appointment with the healers at St. Mungo’s.”
“Merlin protect us,” Professor McGonagall said, her expression unusually gentle—so much so that it startled the surrounding students.
“Come along, child,” Madam Longbottom said, adjusting her handbag as she passed Neville, gently patting his shoulder.
Neville waved goodbye to his friends, lifted his suitcase, and hurried after his grandmother.
In the snow, the two walked side by side, each step deep in the fresh powder—fragile yet resolute, their silhouettes leaning into one another.
Liam suddenly sniffled. “Weird… We’ve always been apart during holidays. Why does it feel so strange this time?”
“Probably just the cold,” Michael joked. “You’re freezing your snot solid! We’ll be back in class together in two weeks. Why act like it’s a death sentence? Come on, let’s go back inside—this wind’s killing us!”
He turned and sprinted toward the castle, the others laughing as they followed.
“Wade,” Hermione whispered, stepping closer. “Do you know why Neville suddenly decided to go home?”
“I do,” Wade said just as quietly. “But it’s his privacy. I can’t tell you.”
“Alright,” Hermione sighed. “I overheard them mention St. Mungo’s earlier… I think I can guess. And honestly, I agree—better not to say anything.”
Wade gave a small nod.
As they reached the door, Wade couldn’t help but glance back.
Neville, one hand on the suitcase, the other gently supporting his grandmother, walked with quiet strength. Madam Longbottom looked unusually small, but Neville’s back stood tall and still—unmistakably a man now, not the round-faced boy everyone once thought of as a child.
But in that moment, he was no longer just a student. He was someone who could carry his family, stand on his own.
…
On Christmas morning, Wade was jolted awake by a loud, chaotic clatter.
He shot up, throwing back the curtains, and saw several House-elves moving swiftly and silently, arranging Christmas gift boxes. But something inside one of the boxes was thrashing about, making a tremendous racket.
“Mr. Wade Gray is awake!” Zoe shrieked. “Sir, hurry and open the gifts—otherwise, this room will be overwhelmed!”
She wasn’t exaggerating. Gift boxes of all sizes had piled up nearly to the ceiling. If not for the elves’ constant effort, Wade’s own bed would already have been buried under them.
Wade grabbed his wand and waved it. The wobbling boxes instantly froze in place, as if glued together by invisible glue.
Zoe leapt back, letting out a sigh of relief. “Whew… That’s a relief. I’ve only ever seen Professor Dumbledore get this many gifts.”
“Too many gifts aren’t always a good thing,” a voice suddenly echoed through the room. “A Christmas gift from a stranger isn’t always a kind gesture.”
The oldest House-elf in Hogwarts appeared in the room. His piercing gaze swept over the elves, and Zoe and the others stiffened instantly.
“Mr. Relf!”
The elves bowed hastily, murmured their greetings, then vanished with a soft pop.
“Good morning, Relf,” Wade smiled. “Is Professor Dumbledore looking for me?”
“No,” Relf replied. “He simply suspected you might receive many gifts this year. So he sent me to check.”
Relf extended his long, slender fingers, and with a flick, Wade’s temporary sticking charm on the boxes vanished. Instantly, the boxes began to rattle and bounce—some even leapt from the line, as if filled with something furious and restless.
Twenty or so boxes hopped forward, landing neatly before Relf, their noises continuing for a few seconds before settling into silence.
“These boxes carry ill omens,” Relf said. “I have extensive experience in detecting such things.”
“I wouldn’t doubt your judgment,” Wade said, pulling on his clothes and stepping toward Relf, eyeing the selected boxes with interest. “But… can I see what’s inside?”
Relf gave him a rare, indulgent look. “Some boxes are better left unopened. Opening them might bring misfortune instantly. But a few… well, they may surprise you.”
He picked up a gray-purple box and opened it. Inside lay a bloody, lifeless cat.
He opened another—filled to the brim with pale, severed fingers.
The third box burst open with a stream of thick, foul-smelling Bapu Root Abscess Fluid. Relf calmly scooped it back into the jar as if it were nothing.
The fourth box appeared at first glance to be a semi-transparent crystal ball. But upon closer inspection, the sphere contained a human head—roughly the size of a fist—its eyes hollow, its expression frozen in death.
Wade stared, speechless.
Relf began preparing to open a fifth.
“Stop!” Wade held up a hand, already turning pale. “No need to open the rest!”
He was thoroughly disgusted.
“Then I’ll take these,” Relf said politely. “In the future, even gifts from friends should be opened with caution.”
“I understand,” Wade sighed. “Can you find out who sent these? I doubt they were careless enough to leave their name on the box?”
“No,” Relf said calmly. “But don’t worry, child. Dumbledore will find out.”
(End of Chapter)
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