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Both were rare volumes, not even available in Knockturn Alley.
Perhaps fate was giving Ian a subtle nudge, for the very next present he unwrapped was 'Magical Creature Classification and Sentencing Standards'— a gift from none other than Cho Chang.
"..."
Ian suspected that some of his Housemates might have a few misconceptions about him. Thankfully, the professors held no such illusions. His excellent rapport with staff had even earned him Christmas gifts from all four Heads of House.
Professor McGonagall had sent him a finely crafted brooch, engraved with the symbol of Transfiguration. It seemed her present also carried an unspoken expectation for Ian to delve deeper into her discipline.
Professor Flitwick's gift was a notebook brimming with personal annotations and spellcraft notes, a private compilation of his own research in Charms, never before published but undeniably filled with valuable knowledge. Professor Sprout's contribution was a set of maintenance kits for magical tools. Ian's frequent assistance to Hufflepuff students had clearly left a good impression on the professor.
"My dear uncle didn't send me potions," Ian muttered as he opened the final gift from a Head of House, discovering an alchemically enchanted item layered with a Protego charm.
It was most definitely purchased.
Ian reckoned that Snape was worried the current dangers lurking at Hogwarts might one day entangle him. Clearly, Snape had no idea Ian was still plotting ways to set Voldemort on fire again. His concern was about as effective as Ian fretting that Snape's perpetually greasy hair might someday make him go bald.
"I do hope he likes the shampoo I sent," Ian mused. Of course, he hadn't resorted to store-bought Potter-brand shampoo just to provoke the man. Instead, he had painstakingly brewed an entire batch of magical herbal shampoo himself which was infused with several rare ingredients discreetly sourced from Snape's own private stores during the yearly supply rotation.
He wondered whether Snape, upon unwrapping it, would dash to inspect his cabinets in panic.
"Right, time to see what my best friend sent me!" Ian beamed, placing the final present in front of him.
It was a gift from Aurora.
As the earliest and closest friend he had made at Hogwarts, Ian had taken great care in selecting her gift— a copy of 'The Book of Parselmouth' and a ring forged from the same enchanted material as the Resurrection Stone.
No, it wouldn't let Aurora speak with souls in the Twilight Realm, but this bespoke "Patronus Ring" was undoubtedly designed to enhance the bond between Aurora and her Patronus.
After all.
The Patronus is, by nature, closely tied to the veil between worlds. Ian vividly recalled how Aurora had struggled for months to summon a corporeal Patronus or forge a stable connection with it.
This particular gift had taken more time and effort than the presents he'd prepared for Dumbledore and Grindelwald, both of whom had received custom-made wizarding chess set, personally designed by Ian himself.
Each piece in the set had been reskinned with enchanting aesthetics far more impressive than any Muggle video game merchandise. Even the pawns had been reimagined as orcs and high elves reminiscent of magical legends.
And that wasn't all.
The knights rode Thestrals and unicorns; one side wielded the chilling blade Frostmourne, the other bore the blazing sword Fiery Joy. The red king resembled Dumbledore, with a staff in hand, while the black king was unmistakably Grindelwald. Ian had even added magical effects that animated the pieces during battle, turning the set into a true collector's masterpiece.
Of course.
None of it compared to the time, energy, and sentiment he had poured into the "Patronus Ring."
"The Resurrection Stone is made from that kind of stone, and my ring is crafted from the same material. If you think about it, it's practically like I've gifted my best friend a Deathly Hallow!"
Ian opened Aurora's present with eager anticipation.
He remembered that when he and Aurora were searching for magical eggs in the Forbidden Forest, Aurora had mentioned she had already prepared a Christmas gift for Ian— a treasure she had stolen from Grindelwald.
"Let's see what this so-called treasure is!"
Ian eagerly tore open the box.
However.
Instead of finding some ominous Dark artifact as he had expected, he discovered a small, delicate object with a metallic sheen, its craftsmanship exceptionally fine.
"What is this supposed to mean? Did she just give me a house?"
Ian lifted the object from the box.
It was a key, intricately designed with elaborate patterns and a slightly hollow structure, clearly quite old. Under the light, its surface gleamed with a polished texture.
A key.
...
The corridors of Hogwarts were eerily quiet.
In fact, they could even be described as somewhat deserted.
Since most students had chosen to return home for Christmas, only a handful remained at the castle, and those who did preferred to stay nestled in the warmth of their common rooms.
When Ian emerged from the Room of Requirement, he exhaled a large puff of white mist into the crisp winter air.
At this moment, the usual bustling student activity was absent— no lively figures darting through the corridors, no laughter spilling from classrooms, and no brooms soaring above the Quidditch pitch. The Great Hall, the towers, and the snow-covered grounds of Hogwarts stood in a tranquil hush beneath the soft winter sunlight.
On such days, few students ventured to the Great Hall for meals. However, Ian still encountered a familiar face at the entrance.
"Miss Greengrass! Where's my Christmas present?" Ian called out, following his personal principle— if he had exchanged nods with someone at least three times, they deserved a gift from him. Daphne Greengrass, who had treated him as if he were a dangerous creature all term, had been no exception.
Yet, he had not received a gift in return.
"Do you expect me to flatter you endlessly?" The young wizard was clearly displeased, making Daphne Greengrass and her companion, Getha Selwyn, visibly tense.
"I… I did send one! It's in the same box as Cho Chang's gift!" Daphne Greengrass hurriedly explained, leaving Ian momentarily stunned.
"The Christmas card in there was from you?" Ian recalled and widened his eyes. "As a pure-blood heir, you sent me nothing but a Christmas card?"
His tone carried a distinct note of indignation.
"Could it be… that my father has stopped giving me an allowance?" Daphne Greengrass forced a smile, though it looked more painful than reassuring.
To prove her point, she pulled out her money pouch, revealing a truly pitiful state— only a few copper Knuts jingled inside, not a single silver Sickle in sight.
"I can't even afford a proper present…"
Daphne Greengrass's tone was laced with sincerity and helplessness. This was the same young witch who had suffered nothing but misfortune all term after carelessly hurling the word "Mudblood" at Ian. Now, she was clearly struggling.
"She won't even lend you money? Some friend she is," Ian remarked, shifting his gaze to Getha Selwyn, who had been attempting to bury her head like an ostrich. At his words, the young witch jolted upright and began fumbling through her own money pouch in a sudden panic.
In her panic, Getha Selwyn's money pouch slipped from her fingers, landing on the ground with an ominous silence. When she hastily picked it up and pried it open, the contents were even more pitiful than Daphne Greengrass's.
It was completely empty.
(To Be Continued…)