I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 293 Christmas Gifts

The flames of jealousy were burning through a large number of Hogwarts wizards.

Everyone racked their brains but still couldn't figure it out! Why?!

Why would Koyatl be interested in Ron?

Is it because he can eat eight chicken legs in one meal?

Or is it because he's slovenly and unkempt?

Surely she couldn't really be after his face!

The hall was abuzz with discussion; no wizard could process this shocking news.

Even Harry Potter stuff won't do!

As someone who was practically inseparable from Ron, he knew that Ron had never had any contact with Koyatl. Since the start of the semester, the two of them had probably exchanged no more than ten words, so how could any romance have developed?

Could it be?

Which Koyatl fell in love with Ron at first sight?

Harry touched his face, and suddenly, our savior began to care less about his appearance.

No wonder—no wonder Cho Chang chose Cedric instead of him.

Is it because I'm not handsome enough?

-----------------

Three days before Christmas, the school term ended, and the little wizards were on holiday.

Despite the teachers assigning a lot of homework to the fourth-grade students during the holidays, the young wizards had no interest in doing their homework at all after the semester ended.

During the week leading up to Christmas, everyone was having a great time. The number of people in the tower was almost the same as before the holidays, and the tower even seemed smaller because the people living inside were much noisier than usual.

Fred and George's new canary cookies are selling very well. In the first day or two of the holiday, people would suddenly grow feathers all over their bodies.

However, the young wizards quickly learned their lesson and became very wary of food handed to them by others, lest a canary cookie be hidden in it.

George confidently told Owen that he and Fred were working on another new product. Meanwhile, Hermione kept warning everyone in the final days leading up to Christmas not to accept anything from Fred and George, not even a potato chip.

Otherwise you'd have to grow feathers to attend the ball.

Heavy snow fell on the castle and the grounds.

Beauxbatons' light blue carriage looked like a large, frosty pumpkin in winter, and the gingerbread house next to it, sprinkled with icing sugar, was Hagrid's cottage; the gunwales of Durmstrang were covered in a layer of ice, making them smooth and shiny, and the sails were also covered in a layer of white frost. They couldn't see Ilfamoni's starship from the castle; it was obscured by huge rocks. But as far as the eye could see, it was also a vast expanse of white.

The house-elves in the kitchen were busy preparing a variety of hot stews and sweet puddings.

Unfortunately, the delicious food did not tempt the young wizards; they wished time would pass faster!

Ideally, tomorrow is Christmas.

Finally, as if the heavens had heard the little wizards' prayers, Christmas finally arrived, albeit slowly.

That morning, Irving got up amidst a huge pile of gifts again.

The bed curtains opened automatically, and delicate pink vines, growing down from the round windowsill above his head, peeked out and began to sing.

It sounded like the rustling of leaves in the wind.

It won't be noisy; it will only make the wizard who hears it feel comfortable.

In Hufflepuff, you'll never have to worry about insomnia.

"Meow~" For once, Sirocco didn't run around outside. After seeing Owen open his eyes, it crawled out of the covers. Its soft, chubby paws stepped on Owen's chest and climbed up his neck. Then, its paws pressed against the right side of his face, and its pair of clear, sapphire-like eyes stared at him.

Just when Irving thought it was going to give him a good morning kiss—

With a "snap," Sirocco raised his hand and delivered a powerful blow to him.

You're awake?! Hurry up and prepare breakfast for me!

That look seemed to be saying that.

"Dead cat!" Owen yelled, then grabbed the cat by the scruff of its neck and dragged it back into the blankets, giving it a good rub. A shrill meow came from under the covers.

But the sound disappeared very quickly.

Five minutes later, Owen threw off the covers and happily stepped onto the floor. In Hufflepuff's bedroom, the floor was covered with a thick brown carpet, painted with various patterns. In winter, each young wizard had a copper fireplace beside their bed. So walking barefoot on the carpet didn't feel cold; on the contrary, it was quite warm.

"Wow! Another bumper harvest this year!" Owen couldn't help but grin, his eyes full of laughter.

At the foot of his bed was a mountain of colorful gift boxes, several feet high, level with his bed. Not only at the foot of the bed, but also on the nearby cabinets and bookshelves, all overflowing with gifts. It even stretched all the way to Justin's window, forming a mountain range.

"Meow?"

Sirocco sat on his bed, meticulously licking the messy hair on his back and chest; it looked like it wouldn't end for at least ten minutes.

Irving began to skillfully unwrap the gifts.

It's the same every year—even on Christmas, Justin always gets up earlier than him. Of the 365 days a year, this is the only day he deliberately gets up early during school hours. Then he stares at his present with eyes gleaming green.

That pathetic expression could last for hours.

This year—this year is a little different, because this guy seems to have influenced Ernie as well, who also inexplicably woke up early and stared at himself along with Justin.

Two idiots.

Irving resisted the urge to curse them. "Two idiots!" Irving thought to himself. He forced a smile and took the first gift box.

It was an exquisite blue gift box, covered with a starry pattern, giving it a particularly warm and romantic feel. Owen examined the box, and he already had a pretty good idea of ​​what was going on.

Then he carefully unwrapped the packaging paper. The moment the box was opened, a red and brown scarf lay there quietly, as if it were helping its owner express his love.

Owen examined the scarf closely. Its texture was incredibly soft and comfortable to the touch. Intricate patterns were embroidered on it, though Owen couldn't make out what they were, they possessed a gentle beauty. It was clearly hand-sewn by Miss Granger. Sure enough, beneath the scarf, on a piece of parchment, were Hermione's delicate handwriting.

—That's a badger.

Well, with Hermione's prompting, Owen managed to make out the badger's silhouette from the intricate pattern.

You might as well show my name!

Irving Wendy Rozier Sanchez.

The scarf emitted a faint, captivating fragrance. Owen guessed it might be some kind of floral scent. He wrapped the scarf around his neck, and instantly, warmth, along with a girl's tender feelings, washed over him. It was a feeling different from material warmth; it came from the heart, bringing a sense of peace and contentment.

For Kyrie Irving, who lacks nothing, this gift carries more of a sentimental meaning. It may be worthless to others, but it is invaluable to him.

Owen's Christmas gift for Miss Granger was an exquisite gemstone necklace; she always needed something to adorn her fair, jade-like neck. (Owen always wore the Trinity pendant.)

And she'll need it tonight.

As for the other gifts—Harry gave him a book, which Owen had reason to believe was found in Sirius's underground library, because the paper was very old and even smelled a bit moldy.

What Irving gave him was a magical item: a pair of stylish half-rimmed glasses. From the outside, you couldn't tell they were prescription glasses at all, and they would never attract dust, were waterproof, and sturdy.

Ron gave him a bunch of snacks, and Irving gave him a brooch.

The Geminis gifted him their latest prank product, a bottle of brown liquid that looked like pumpkin juice, but Owen knew it was their proudest creation—Love Potion.

Damn—does my buddy even need this kind of thing anymore?

He then gave them the design blueprints for the core components of the ancient puppet.

Colin gave him a picture book depicting Miss Granger's triumphant appearance at the tournament, and Owen reciprocated by giving him a large bottle of color developing solution.

Owen sat on the bed and flipped through the album page by page. The magic photos were indeed amazing, like watching a video. Each one showcased Miss Granger's unique and passionate charm.

"Meow~" Sirocco sniffed his new scarf curiously beside him, occasionally touching it gently with its paw. Owen picked it up and gently stroked its head.

"Okay, okay, stop fooling around," he said softly.

Shiloh rolled over in dissatisfaction, meowed a few times with its limbs up, and then jumped off Owen's arms.

It sniffed around at a certain box.

Seeing this, Irving put down the photo album and opened the gift box.

Oh—that was Neville's Christmas present to him, a meat pie made by his grandmother. Owen took out a piece, tore it in half, and handed it to Heroic, while he ate the other half himself.

Surprisingly, it tasted pretty good.

The gift he gave Neville was a seed of "Palm Mustard".

Next up was Furong's gift, full of exotic flair (just kidding) – a French cookbook inside an old Parisian-style box.

Very good—Irving's lips twitched, I give you full marks for that witty remark!

Damn it—I should have given her a plate of Stargazing Pie. Owen secretly regretted it and felt sorry for the bag of peach oolong tea he had lost.

The French also enjoy drinking tea, though not as much as the British.

Qiu gave him a gold-plated quill pen—uh—Owen couldn't understand why she would give him something. How could he possibly be so attached to it?

Ah—dude, this damn, irresistible charm of yours!

With that thought in mind, he took out the mirror and called out to Dobby.

The next second, Dobby appeared in front of him, wearing dragon-skin gloves and an apron. He had been helping out in the castle kitchen these past few days, and it looked like he had just been baking something.

"Sir, Dobby has received your gift." He danced merrily on his bed, fiddling with his bright red suit, looking quite odd.

Well—there's no way around it, it's to make him like it!

Dobby, like Dumbledore, likes brightly colored clothes.

"Hmm—do me a favor and give this to Qiu Zhang. Do you know her?" As he spoke, he took out a crystal pendant box from his pocket. He had bought many other things while picking out jewelry for Miss Granger.

"No problem, sir." Dobby replied, then took the pendant box and disappeared with a 'pop'.

"It's only fair to reciprocate!" Irving looked away and continued opening the gift box.

Justin gave him a perfume bottle; it was a 17th-century antique.

"You'll find this useful." Justin, who was sitting on his bed holding a gift box and grinning foolishly, suddenly leaned over and looked at him with a half-smile.

What he was holding was the Christmas gift Irving had given him. A simple Galleon, bringing the most unexpected joy.

Ernie gave him a magic notebook that would automatically record every word its owner said, as long as he carried it with him.

Owen had seen this magical item in Diagon Alley, but it was useless to him, so he never bought it.

He returned the favor by giving him a formal suit.

Then came gifts from Cedric, Gawain, and a whole host of other Hufflepuff wizards.

Sirius Black, Professor Sprout, Victor, Mrs. Weasley, etc.

Dumbledore gave him a pair of socks. One was red, and the other was also red.

Irving stared intently at the socks, seemingly trying to spot the difference, but apart from a loose thread sticking out at the ankle, he couldn't see anything different.

But when he picked up the socks, one of them was bulging. Owen reached inside and found a book inside, a French book called "The Little Prince".

In the other sock, there was something as well. He reached out and took out a postcard—the back depicted the scenery of the mountains where the castle was located, while the front had some words with many, many circles drawn on the last stroke.

To love your rose forever — Albus Percival Woolflick Bryan Dumbledore.

Owen couldn't believe that someone could cast an infinite stretching spell on two socks, but it wasn't bad—Dumbledore liked to use parables to help young wizards understand profound truths on their own.

He placed the copy of "The Little Prince" on his bookshelf.

What Old Deng didn't know was that he had already read this book hundreds of times.

To express his gratitude to Professor Dumbledore for his concern, Irving also sent him a letter, and many, many more, all of which shared the same title: "Correspondence Collection".

Grandpa gave me a notebook containing his latest research on several powerful spells, which he had collected over the years while traveling to various ancient ruins.

Hannah gave him a bracelet; it was designed in the Far East and symbolized peace.

Then there were a few items from strangers, but Owen didn't care about them. After all, he was quite famous, and the alchemy prize made him very prestigious in the circle, especially some wizards who had not been exposed to alchemy for long, who would send him letters to ask questions.

He had guessed that the gift boxes were from the wizards he had helped, as a token of their gratitude.

But when he opened it, he was stunned.

Inside was a photograph, a family portrait, with her mother and father together, holding their newborn son in their arms.

This was the first time Irving had met his father.

He was a tall man with short black hair, an average appearance, and a serious demeanor.

Even though he was standing next to what might be the most beautiful wife in the world, holding his child in his arms, with the Eiffel Tower, a Parisian landmark, behind him, there was no smile on his face.

This photo left Irving momentarily dazed.

It was as if a dandelion seed that had been floating in the sky had fallen to the ground and taken root.

He flipped the photo over.

Two names are written on the back.

Gabriel Rozier.

McCowan Hunter.

And—you are not alone.

It took almost half an hour for Irving to unpack all the gifts. There were dozens of them—far too many.

His desk was already overflowing.

In the end, he only cast an Infinite Stretch spell on his cabinet before he could put everything down.

He left only two things on the table.

One is a photograph, and the other is also a photograph.

A family photo of him, and a competition photo of Miss Granger.

However, Miss Granger must be in even more "pain" than him, since she will be receiving Christmas gifts from all the wizards in England.

Her gifts probably couldn't fit in the entire dorm room.

After a quick wash, Irving, Justin, Ernie, and the others walked out of the lounge together.

They went upstairs together to have breakfast.

The young wizards were all gathered in the hall, happily sharing the gifts they had received.

After breakfast, the boys suddenly became uneasy.

Everyone was too nervous.

For the young wizards, dancing was nothing compared to battling the eight-eyed giant spider, even though they had practiced for a long time.

The thought of potentially embarrassing themselves made everyone a little scared—after all, the deans of each department had given them countless warnings.

"It's just a simple tango, what's there to be afraid of?" Owen took out his wand and helped the professors decorate the auditorium.

He took a moment to walk over the long table, looking at the young wizards whose faces were already pale with tension, and said with a chuckle, "A famous performing artist once said, 'Tango is just about swaying and swaying.'"

Three steps, one leap, two turns back.

Five steps and you bend over.

A wave every six steps.

Then you wade and wade along.

Ahem—just kidding!

Everyone dances terribly. Have you heard that the little wizard in the castle studied dance?

He waved his wand, and specks of ice crystals crawled from the walls to the ceiling, eventually hanging down and solidifying into a huge crystal chandelier.

"Don't worry!" he said reassuringly.

Just then, Professor Sprout's voice rang out from the auditorium doors, "Owen!"

He turned his head away. "Well—looks like I've got something else to do."

Irving strode towards the entrance of the auditorium.

"Dumbledore wants some music played in front of the door." The professor was unusually dressed in a spotless coat without a single patch; it was a brown robe with white lace trim on the cuffs and collar, like flowers.

At the professor's feet were several vines with trumpet-like flowers, a common sight in Hufflepuff's common room.

"Perhaps you should find some beautiful melodies. Remember, be sure to choose them carefully before playing them; they will remember the first time they hear the music."

"No problem, Professor." Owen nodded, then extended his wand, ancient magic drawing vines that climbed all over the foyer of the Great Hall.

Morning glories peek out from among the green leaves, their pink blossoms adorning the ceiling of the foyer.

Then, Owen extended his wand, pointed the tip at his temple, and gently rotated it. With a flick of his wrist, a strange, silvery substance appeared at the tip of his wand.

Then he pulled out an old, dirty mirror from his pocket that reflected no image at all.

Holding the mirror in his right hand, he gently placed the wisp of silver mist into the mirror with his wand in his left.

In an instant, a few images appeared on the originally murky mirror.

In his hand was a meditation mirror, a work by Ernie, the same artist as the meditation basin in the principal's office.

The function is similar, but the advantage is that it is easy to carry. The disadvantage is that it cannot provide the same immersive experience as the Pensieve. It can only provide a first-person perspective, showing a fixed scene seen by the original owner of the memory, and cannot construct a world.

Therefore, in some details, it is inferior to the Pensieve.

However, its simplicity and practicality are sufficient.

Owen held up his wand, aimed it at the mirror in his left hand, and cast a spell. Then it slowly floated up, like a rising cloud, and before it touched the flower, a symphony began to play.

It was like a song that opened a magical door, slowly unfolding with the crisp sound of the piano.

Then violins, tubas, organs, and many other instruments joined in.

Together they create a magical awakening sound – Hedwig Variations.

"My goodness! That sounds really good!" Professor Sprout exclaimed in surprise.

"Of course—it's the theme song from Harry Potter!" Owen said jokingly.

"Harry?"

"Ahem—you misheard, it's the Hogwarts theme song!" Owen quickly corrected himself.

"Bang!" Suddenly, a loud footstep came from the entrance hall.

"Merry Christmas, Professor Sprout." Hagrid, covered in snowflakes, arrived at the doorway carrying two enormous pine trees.

"Is this Professor Frivi's new piece? It sounds really good!" he said with a smile.

Owen noticed that Hagrid seemed to have dressed up carefully; his messy beard was neatly braided into a small plait. Underneath his huge brown robe was a well-tailored suit.

It's obvious—he's planning something at the ball.

"This is a piece that Irving came up with," Professor Sprout said with a smile and a sense of pride.

My child is truly both scholarly and athletic! He knows everything! He's just a bit of a worry.

"Irving?" Hagrid's expression froze instantly.

However, he wasn't embarrassed for long, because soon a voice broke the atmosphere, "Oh! Hagrid, hurry up and bring the pine tree into the hall. Felius has almost finished decorating the hall, all that's missing is your Christmas tree."

Professor McGonagall came out of the Great Hall, waved her wand to help Hagrid lighten the weight of the pine tree, and cleaned the dirt he had brought under his feet.

"Thank you!" Hagrid said, then turned to leave.

"By the way, you and Felius should discuss where to put the Christmas tree. You know we need to make room for a dance floor."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall," he replied, then strode into the auditorium.

(End of this chapter)