Chapter 154: Christmas Gifts
The first week of Christmas break, despite a mountain of holiday homework waiting for him, Jon couldn’t bring himself to care about any of it.
His time was spent preparing gifts for friends and family, continuing to unravel the mysteries of the Potion Sequence, and—unavoidably—wondering what his supposed “tomboy” dance partner might look like.
Heavy snow blanketed the castle and Quidditch pitch.
The pale-blue Beauxbatons carriage looked like a pumpkin glazed with frost, while Hagrid’s hut beside it resembled a gingerbread house dusted with sugar. The Durmstrang ship floated with its hull sheathed in a layer of ice, smooth and translucent, while frost clung to the rigging.
In the kitchens, the house-elves bustled frantically, preparing steaming stews in a dozen flavors and sweet puddings for the Christmas feast. Jon had sneaked a taste a week early, and everything was superb.
Christmas Day was fast approaching.
...
On Christmas morning, Jon sleepily opened his eyes—because something had just thumped onto him.
A gray owl had dropped a massive package on his bed, hooted cheerfully, and flown off.
“That damned owl!” Jon grumbled, rolling out of bed—only to see a mountain of presents piled high at the foot of it.
There were more than usual this year.
The first package he opened was the enormous one that had woken him.
It was from Professor Sprout, with “Formal Wear” scrawled across it in crooked letters.
Tearing the wrapping away, Jon unfolded the contents... and pulled out a gray suit.
It looked terribly old-fashioned, the kind that might have been fashionable in the fifties or sixties. It was wrinkled to boot. Jon forced himself to try it on, glanced in the mirror, then tore it off at once.
As for Professor Sprout’s taste... Jon was at a complete loss for words. Wearing this, he was sure to be the ugliest of the four Champions tonight.
With that, he gave up on entertaining any hopeful fantasies about his mystery “partner.” No doubt she’d be as dreadful as this gray suit.
He tossed it aside on the bed and moved on to the next gift.
From Eric and Judy came an IBM Simon cellphone, newly released that June—the world’s first “smartphone.” Unfortunately, Hogwarts had no signal. Beyond serving as a fancy brick, it was useless.
Inside the box was also a letter. His parents told him not to rush back home, but to enjoy himself at school.
Jon opened the third package. Zacharias Smith had given him a book, Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland.
Suppressing a sigh, he set it aside with the rest, then unwrapped the fourth gift.
It was a very small box. The moment he opened it, a scarlet, egg-shaped object tumbled out.
Jon nearly leapt out of his skin. He grabbed it before it hit the floor, hurriedly cast a Freezing Charm, and shoved it back into the box.
It was an Ashwinder egg—an extraordinarily rare potion ingredient, but one of the most dangerous, capable of causing a devastating fire if mishandled.
The package bore no name, but Jon didn’t need one. Only weeks ago, he had helped a certain greasy bat of a professor process a batch of Ashwinders.
Snape’s taste in gifts... Jon shook his head.
...
The next box was crammed with sweets of every kind: Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, Fizzing Whizbees...
Clearly, its sender was a dedicated sweet-tooth.
Jon gathered the candies into his trunk, then noticed a book at the bottom of the box.
It looked oddly familiar. He picked it up—and froze.
Secrets of the Darkest Art.
A note was attached: “Phineas told me you were interested in this, so I thought I’d send it to you.”
Jon was at a loss. Another trap, perhaps?
If so, it was pointless. The bait had already been swallowed. With a sigh, he placed Secrets of the Darkest Art on his shelf.
The final gift was another large box, again unsigned.
“What’s this one?”
Jon carefully lifted the lid and was surprised to find a black tailcoat inside.
Compared to the gray suit, this was worlds better—sharp, comfortable, and perfectly neat.
Could it be that Professor Sprout realized her earlier choice had been dreadful and replaced it?
Jon wondered, but either way, he had made up his mind: tonight, he would wear the tailcoat.
...
There was no afternoon tea on Christmas Day—the banquet would be held during the ball.
By seven, night had fallen.
Jon entered the Hufflepuff common room. Ernie, Justin, Wayne... all the boys fourth-year and up were already there, most of them looking tense, some outright terrified.
The girls emerged one after another, dressed up and chatting excitedly. Even many of the second and third years had turned out.
No longer a sea of black robes, the room was now alive with colorful formal wear.
“Let’s go!” Cedric Diggory, the prefect, said at half past seven. “We’ll head to the Great Hall together!”
The group made their way to the entrance hall, which was already crowded with students milling about, waiting for the clock to strike eight and the doors to open.
Some squeezed through the crowd, searching for their partners from other houses.
“Jon!” Professor Sprout bustled over. She had traded her mud-stained gray robes for a faded floral dress. On her plump frame, it made her look ten years younger—or, depending on the angle, a little frightening.
“What is it, Professor...” Jon asked warily.
“Your dance partner is waiting for you in Minerva’s office,” Sprout told him. “All four Champions and their partners are gathering there first.”
“Alright, I’ll head there now.” Jon nodded, then climbed the stairs to the second floor, to Professor McGonagall’s office.
Author's Note
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