Harry returns from Hogwarts Legacy

Chapter 430 Christmas Eve

Normally, Ron would definitely refute his two brothers' slander in a flash.

But today he sat in a chair, one hand covering his face, looking utterly aggrieved.

"What's wrong with you, little Ronnie?" George asked curiously.

"You got beaten up by Hermione?" Fred asked with a wicked grin.

Ron glared at them, then covered his face and remained silent.

“His tooth hurts.” Hermione shook her head helplessly. “Dad checked him out, and it’s not a problem with his teeth, just some inflammation. He just got him some medicine, but it will take a while to see results.”

“Looks like our little Ronnie has something on his mind.” George winked at Fred. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t have such an inflammatory reaction.”

Hermione ignored them and asked Ron with concern, "How are you now? Do you want me to put some ointment on you?"

"Do you have such an ointment?" Ron asked suspiciously.

“If you listen carefully in class, Mr. Weasley.”

A greasy voice suddenly appeared behind Ron.

Ron looked up in horror, and sure enough—stood behind him was Professor Snape, a smirk playing on his lips.

But to Ron's utter surprise, Professor Snape produced a small test tube from somewhere, containing a bright green potion.

"Put it on," he said. "It'll make you feel better."

Ron was somewhat flattered.

He never imagined that the one who would lend him a helping hand at the crucial moment would not be Doraemon, but Professor Snape.

However, Professor Snape's next words made Ron's face fall like a cat's.

“A two-foot paper, about this ointment,” he said haltingly. “Give it to me after the semester starts.”

Having said that, he flapped his long black robe and flew away like a bat, leaving without a trace.

Ron glanced at the ointment in his hand, then at Snape's retreating figure, and then at the extra homework he had just received...

He was filled with rage and malice. He twisted open the stopper of the test tube, dipped his finger in the ointment, and applied it to his swollen and painful gums.

Surprisingly, it felt cool and refreshing, and the pain seemed to subside almost immediately.

It must be admitted that although Professor Snape had a bad temper, his skill in potions was truly unparalleled.

He applied some ointment to the mouth ulcer, and it healed immediately.

“That’s really good,” Ron said sincerely as he screwed on the stopper.

“Then you should thank our Headmaster properly,” Draco suddenly said. “Weasley, are you perhaps regretting not being sorted into Slytherin?”

“The Weasleys will never produce a Slytherin!” Ron retorted.

“I don’t believe it. Your son will definitely be a Slytherin someday,” Draco said, making a face at Ron. “He’ll set a precedent for the Weasleys—”

Ron opened his mouth.

“Mom,” he turned and asked, “what if my son goes to Slytherin someday?”

“Ronald Weasley!” Mrs. Weasley’s hair stood on end as she pointed at Ron, holding a carrot she was washing. “In that case, my carrot will be on your and your son’s faces!”

Ron swallowed.

“Actually, Slytherin isn’t so bad,” Harry said from the side. “You see, it’s not the era of house prejudice anymore…”

“But it’s tradition, Harry, my dear.” Mrs. Weasley smiled gently at Harry. “I’m not targeting Slytherin—even if Ron’s children go to Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, neither of them will ever set foot in my house again!”

Oh, is this a Weasley tradition, only Gryffindor students are allowed in?

Draco glanced at Ron, then at Ginny, who was resting on the sofa with her eyes closed, and wondered what he was thinking.

Harry had no intention of going back to his bedroom to touch the gifts; he felt that even if he were to open them, he should wait until everyone had left.

If we uncover something that shouldn't be seen by others, that would be interesting.

Of course, he also needs to keep his distance from Annie, as he has already confirmed her double agent status.

Fortunately, it wasn't the code name "Pangolin".

Christmas at No. 12 Grimmauld Place was quite different from usual, with a new mistress—though not the mistress-to-be—who brought a unique change to the old house.

The place that was once gloomy, with walls adorned with the heads of house-elves, is now covered with warm gold star wallpaper. The traces left by the removed heads have been cleverly covered by magical murals depicting serene snow-capped mountains and gliding penguins.

The stair railings are adorned with emerald green holly and gold and silver ribbons, and magical snowflakes drift slowly down from the ceiling, melting gently before touching the skin.

Mrs. Black was also beaming with joy, and even wore a Santa hat.

“It’s all thanks to Gemma,” Sirius said to the curious Harry. “You see, she thought it should add a different vibe to this old house… And my mother was happy too.”

Harry knew, of course, that Walbuga was extremely pleased with Miss Farley—not only because she was a pure-blood wizard from a pure-blood family, but also because she was a Slytherin, and a Slytherin prefect.

"Merlin has finally seen the light..."

After learning that Miss Farley had once been a Slytherin prefect, Walbugar muttered to himself for several days.

At noon, the last guest, Mrs. Longbottom, arrived at number twelve Grimmauld Place.

She is Neville's grandmother.

The Christmas dinner officially began at 6:30 p.m.

This year's Christmas dinner was unusually crowded, but fortunately the restaurant tables were long enough to accommodate everyone.

Mr. Weasley was excitedly examining a silver plate that rotated automatically, while Bill and Fleur sat beside him, seemingly oblivious to their surroundings, their eyes fixed only on each other. Mrs. Weasley's expression wasn't very pleasant, but on this joyous day, she didn't intend to say anything.

Fred and George were naturally the center of attention as he demonstrated his latest creation – the "King of Christmas Firecrackers," which, when ignited, would not only burst open a magnificent magical hat, but also send a small squad of miniature knights on strange flying broomsticks engaging in a brief Quidditch match in the air.

"It looks really good. How much are you planning to sell this for?" Ron asked curiously.

“Six Sickles,” Fred shrugged. “That’s just the monkey version. If you want Quidditch to last longer, you’ll need to add six Sickles.”

"That's expensive," Ron said, pursing his lips. "If it were me, I definitely wouldn't buy this. It's way too pricey!"

“I’ll buy two,” Draco said sheepishly, leaning closer. “Weasley, one for each of us—aren’t you going to thank me?”

Ron was somewhat surprised; he didn't know why Draco was suddenly being so attentive, but he instinctively felt something was off. And then he recalled Draco's criteria for a partner that day…

"No, Malfoy," Ron said firmly.

He'd rather his brother-in-law were Dean Thomas...

No, Ron thought about it and realized that the situation was too bad; it would have been better if it were Malfoy!
The head of the Black family, Sirius Black, naturally sat in the main seat, while Gemma Black, as the lady of the house, sat to his right; Harry Black, as the godson, sat to Sirius Black's left.

Next to Sirius's plate was a wizard's hat that could play "Jingle Bells" on its own; it was obviously the work of the Weasley twins.

"I have to say, I really like this little thing," Sirius said with a smile.

Once everyone was seated, Sirius Black smiled and announced that the dinner was officially starting.

Suddenly, a feast appeared on the table.

The main course is naturally roast turkey, a must-have dish for a traditional Western banquet.

As the saying goes, a Western banquet cannot be complete without turkey, just as a New Year's Eve dinner cannot be complete without fish.

The turkey's skin was roasted to a perfect golden brown, and it looked ready to be served, with a whole honey-roasted ham next to it.

The huge silver platter was piled high with roasted potatoes, tomatoes, peas, and glistening sausages, as well as a chicken leg specially prepared for Ron.

There were also Mrs. Weasley's special meat pies, smoked salmon, and a dazzling array of other dishes.

"So, what are we waiting for?" Sirius raised his glass. "Let me wish everyone a Merry Christmas—"

"Merry Christmas!" everyone said in unison.

After the wine glasses were put down, the table was immediately filled with the clinking of knives and forks, cheerful conversation, and laughter.

Harry forked a large roasted potato for himself, added a sausage, and drizzled some gravy over the potato.

The sausages tasted amazing, far better than those made by the house-elves at Hogwarts, and were full of... the taste of home.

“This is Ruby’s masterpiece,” Vivi said with a smile, sitting next to Harry. “It seems he has learned a lot about making sausages during his time in Vienna… It tastes very good, I like it very much.”

“I still prefer British sausages.” Harry commented while eating sausage, “Although they are a bit oily, I have developed a taste for them over the years.”

"Yes, I also really like 'British sausage'."

Vivi whispered these words in Harry's ear, and she even emphasized the two words for "British sausage."

Harry realized he was no longer pure; he immediately understood Vivi's implied meaning.

Fortunately, her voice was very low, and only two people could hear it.

After saying those words, Vivi acted as if she hadn't said them at all, sitting there demurely cutting food, looking noble and elegant.

“You really need to be punished,” Harry whispered in her ear. “To say something like that…”

Did I say anything?

As Vivi spoke, she cut the sausage in front of her in two.

"Heh." Harry didn't say anything, he just chuckled.

"What are you talking about?" Cassandra asked suddenly, suspiciously. She felt that the two of them weren't talking about anything serious.

"Let's eat," Vivi said with a smile, casually forking a sausage for Cassandra. "With so much delicious food, we should savor it properly."

Cassandra glanced at Vivi suspiciously again, but didn't say anything more, and lowered her head to taste the sausage.

After the main course, it's time for dessert.

The desserts were incredibly lavish, not much less delicious than those served at the Hogwarts welcome party, and it was clear that several elves who had trained at the Flamel family had perfectly mastered the various techniques of French pastry making.

When the last dessert—a Christmas pudding burning with blue flames, gummy frogs (a contribution from Fred and George that makes you croak like a frog for a moment) and sparkling jelly—was completely devoured, everyone leaned back in their chairs, their bellies full and satisfied.

"Quack quack." Ron suddenly quacked twice, eliciting a burst of good-natured laughter from those around him.

"I must say," he said, still somewhat unsatisfied after his rambling, "this was the most lavish Christmas dinner I've ever had. Before this, I never imagined—"

"Didn't you think about anything?" Hermione asked.

"So many people celebrating Christmas together," Ron said with a grin. Thanks to Professor Snape's ointment, his gums were no longer swollen and painful, and the ulcers had completely disappeared.

Ron thought it would be worth it even if it meant writing a two-foot-long paper.

“Yes, it’s really lively,” Hermione agreed.

After dinner, they returned to the living room.

The Black family's living room has already undergone its second expansion. As the Minister of Magic in the UK, it's perfectly reasonable for him to use the Unseen Stretch Charm to expand his own living room, right?

This does not constitute an abuse of power.

They gathered in small groups, the Malfoys chatting with Miss Farley, and Narcissa holding Miss Farley's hand, her eyes filled with undisguised satisfaction.

As a former member of the Black family, she naturally held the family's traditional values.

If you're looking for a woman/man, you have to look for Slytherin.

Miss Farley perfectly embodied her ideals.

Mrs. Longbottom sat with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, chatting happily, seemingly reminiscing about the past.

The younger generation also gathered in their own groups. Ron and Hermione were chatting in a corner, while Draco had somehow gotten close to Ginny and was trying to strike up a conversation, albeit somewhat cautiously. But Ginny seemed completely oblivious to Draco's odd behavior and was happily chatting with him.

Thank goodness Ron is chatting with Hermione right now, otherwise he would probably explode if he saw this.

Harry had already walked to the window and was looking out at the quiet square covered with a thin layer of snow.

He leaned back in his chair, his thoughts drifting far away.

Sirius Black came over and handed him a steaming cup of butterbeer.

“It’s different from before, isn’t it?” he said softly, glancing out the window.

“Yes,” Harry nodded.

(End of this chapter)