Hogwarts' Golden Glory

The students who had been observing him quickly looked away after hearing this.

The situation on Hagrid's side is more complicated.

When he met Mrs. Maxime at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the two were standing a short distance apart beside some kind of bush they had each planted. Hagrid cleared his throat and said first, "This year's ball... should be quite lively."

Mrs. Maxim turned to look at him, her tone calm: "Yes, it should be quite lively."

"You... will you go? I mean, will you go to that ball?"

Mrs. Maxim glanced at him: "I am the headmaster of Beauxbatons, and according to the rules, I must attend."

"Can you dance?"

Mrs. Maxim paused for a moment: "I'll jump a bit."

Hagrid stood there, as if he wanted to say something but didn't know how to continue the conversation, his shoulders unconsciously shrugging slightly.

Mrs. Maxim looked at him for a moment, then said, "If you intend to ask me to dance during the ball, you'll at least need to come over before it starts, not stand at the edge of the Forbidden Forest and ask me."

Hagrid paused for a moment, then said, "I'll walk over there then."

"Okay." Mrs. Maxim said and turned to leave. Hagrid stood there, watching her figure disappear at the edge of the bushes, then looked down at the bundle of freshly trimmed branches in his hand and neatly stacked them beside him.

Moody's attitude toward the Christmas ball was the most direct.

At the end of his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, he overheard a student whispering about the ball. The voice wasn't loud, but his prosthetic ear caught it.

He didn't raise his voice, didn't pause, and simply said without looking up, "I don't dance. Don't ask me."

The student who had asked the question immediately shut up and quietly put his textbook into his bag.

Professor Trelawney's attitude was completely the opposite.

In the last ten minutes of her divination class, she suddenly stopped what she was saying, looked over all the students' heads, and fixed her gaze on an empty spot at the back of the classroom. In a slow tone, she said, "I noticed that in my crystal ball, a party is approaching me. There are lights, music, and people at that party. But I am not one of those people. I am the one standing by the window, watching the snow falling outside."

The classroom fell silent for a moment as everyone waited for her to finish.

"The snow might be heavy, enough to cover all footsteps. If any of you are going to invite someone tonight, you can go now."

A boy sitting in the last row stood up and walked out of the classroom.

After he left, Professor Trelawney added, "He's heading in the right direction."

As for Professor Binns, he continued lecturing as usual, speaking at a steady pace without pauses when discussing the mandatory enforcement clauses of medieval magical contracts. After class, a student approached the podium and asked him, "Professor Binns, will you be coming to the Christmas ball?"

Professor Binns looked up and said in his hollow but clear voice, "I'm not sure if I was invited." Then he lowered his head again to continue organizing his notes.

The student didn't ask any more questions.

Christmas morning is not awakened by the sound of bells, but by the hooting of owls' wings.

Harry was awakened by a series of rapid flapping sounds. He opened his eyes and saw three owls perched on the windowsill: a gray barn owl with a tightly packed small bundle tied to its leg, a white snowy owl carrying a long, thin box, and a school owl he recognized, tilting its head to look at him.

He sat up, and the owls on the windowsill flew in one by one. The gray one landed first, dropped the package, and flew to the crossbeam at the head of the bed, as if waiting for a reply.

A white snowy owl landed on his blanket, and the long, thin box rolled to the side of his pillow. The school owl perched at the foot of the bed, a letter tied to its leg, unsigned, addressed to "Harry Potter (Gryffindor Tower)".

He first opened the letter, which contained an ordinary piece of paper and a bottle of medicine.

The handwriting was faint: "Be careful while practicing."

No signature.

He opened the gray package, inside was a pair of wristbands, dark gray, with a line of very fine silver lettering embroidered along the edge. It wasn't embroidered with ordinary thread, but rather embedded directly into the fabric: "Won't fall off after Quidditch."

He recognized the handwriting; it wasn't as messy as it used to be after he left Azkaban.

The box brought by the white snowy owl contained a scarf, deep red with a fine silver pattern woven around the edge.

There was no note, but he roughly knew who sent it.

He touched the texture of the scarf, then folded it and placed it on the bedside table.

When Hermione woke up, there were three things placed next to her pillow. One was the old edition of "The House-Elf Contracts," with a curled cover, faded numbered labels on the spine, and handwritten annotations along the edges of the pages, the handwriting neat and the strokes slightly upturned.

She turned to the title page, where there was no signature, only a line that read: "This book has been in the library for many years, and I think it will find the right person."

She closed the book and placed it next to her pillow.

The second item was a light-colored envelope, unstamped and unsealed. Inside was a single sentence written on a folded piece of paper. Signed Furong, the message was short and the handwriting clearly indicated it was written in a short time, but each stroke was neatly finished: "This book is more complete than any version I've seen before. It might be helpful for what you're doing."

Hermione placed the letter along with the book next to her pillow.

The third item was at the very bottom: a flat cardboard box. She opened it, and inside was a stack of parchment—not the ordinary kind, but a light gray one, with extremely fine silver embossed lines along the edges. She ran her finger along the outline of the embossed lines; there was no signature, no message.

She closed the box without asking where it came from.

Hibiscus was awakened by the sound of flapping wings outside the window. She drew back the curtains and saw a long, thin package on the windowsill, wrapped in dark blue cloth. The cloth was not knotted, but simply folded in half.

She opened the package; inside was a scarf, light gray wool, with a line of tiny embroidered words at the end, as if stitched with a silver needle finer than a regular sewing needle: "It might be a little cold at Christmas."

She recognized the handwriting; it was unsigned.

She didn't wrap it around herself immediately; instead, she placed it at the foot of the bed and then turned to take one off.

When Draco woke up, there was a package on his bedside table. He unwrapped it and found a silver cufflink inside. It was simple in shape, without any extra engravings or inlays, and its edges reflected a faint arc of light when he turned to his side.

He knew who had put it there; he just looked at it for a while, then put it in the drawer without wearing it immediately.