Ron's anxieties about Professor Swann instituting a rigorous, holiday-ruining study schedule proved, thankfully, unfounded. The next day unfolded not with the oppressive silence of an examination hall, but with a vibrant, productive chaos that only Sebastian Swann seemed capable of fostering.
Percy, driven by his own formidable ambition and the shadow of twelve upcoming OWL exams, sequestered himself voluntarily in a quiet, sun-drenched study near the manor's library. He only emerged for meals, clutching sheaves of intensely scrutinized parchment, occasionally muttering about the precise application of the Geminio Charm—a true martyr to academics.
Fred and George, having secured Sebastian's casual permission, treated the seven-story Alchemy Laboratory like a candy store staffed by permissive house-elves. The sounds filtering up from the lower levels were not of meticulous potion-making, but of small, contained, often brightly colored explosions, followed by shrieks of triumphant laughter.
They were less focused on "Snowflake Gum" and more on testing the durability of various enchanted materials under extreme alchemical duress. Sebastian, apparently unfazed by the occasional tremor, only sent down a soft request via a house-elf to "please keep the volatile experimentation limited to the fourth-floor isolation chamber."
Meanwhile, Harry, eager to put his practice from the Snowball Brawl to use, dragged Sebastian to the Duelling Arena. The arena was a vast, circular room lined with complex protective runes and cushioned, enchanted flooring.
Sebastian agreed to spar, not as a professor, but as a sparring partner, forcing Harry to move beyond simple defense. The sheer speed and complexity of Sebastian's casual wand-work demonstrated a level of magical aptitude Harry had only dreamed of.
"Remember the lesson from the Snowball Brawl, Harry!" Sebastian called out, effortlessly deflecting a powerful but predictable Disarming Charm. "It's not power, it's precision and prediction! Don't just react to the light of the spell; predict the caster's intent! Why cast a Disarming spell when a Trip Jinx is faster and less taxing on your focus?"
Harry, utterly exhausted but invigorated by the challenge, found his dueling instincts sharpened in ways no classroom lesson could match.
As for Ron, after exhausting the novelty of the Muggle arcade machines (which included several complex, multi-layered strategy games that quickly defeated his attention span), he found himself utterly bored.
The silent determination of Percy, the constant booming from the lab, and Harry's focused, relentless training eventually shamed him into action. With a theatrical sigh, he dug out his Charms and History of Magic textbooks, reluctantly settling down in the cozy drawing-room to work on his holiday assignments.
Christmas morning arrived crisp and bright, the snow outside gleaming like powdered diamonds. Harry was the first one down the magnificent staircase, drawn by the sight of the towering, twenty-foot Christmas tree positioned centrally in the grand living room, garlanded in magical lights that pulsed softly with colored energy.
The area beneath the tree was a mountainous terrain of wrapped presents.
"Merry Christmas, Harry!" Mia greeted him, appearing from the kitchen, radiating warmth and smelling faintly of cinnamon and pine. She hugged him tightly and gestured towards a neat, designated pile.
"Jeff already sorted your gifts into their respective piles," she said with a knowing smile. "These are all yours. Go on, don't just stare at them—open them!"
Harry eagerly started with a small, neatly wrapped package. Inside, he found a brand-new, comprehensive Hoverboard Maintenance Kit—a collection of charmed oils, self-cleaning cloths, and specialized tools for Quidditch equipment.
He saw a small, elegant handwritten card tucked into the lid. It read: "May you fly freely and always find your way home. —Aunt Mia." Harry smiled; it wasn't just a gift, it was an acknowledgment of his passion and his newfound security.
The next package was large, soft, and slightly lumpy. As he tore away the wrapping, he revealed a huge box of Every Flavor Beans and a thick, hand-knitted emerald-green sweater.
"Oh, Harry, that'll be from Mum," Ron said, clattering down the stairs with Fred and George, his face already alight with festive excitement. He approached Harry, his excitement tempered by a flicker of embarrassment as he looked at the hand-made garment.
"She knits one every year for us. They're... well, they're a bit old-fashioned, aren't they?" Ron admitted, his face flushing slightly. "They're usually red or blue, though. The emerald green looks good on you. If you don't like it, you can just leave it in the cupboard and she'll never know, honestly..."
"What are you talking about?" Harry interrupted immediately, pulling the sweater over his head. It was thick, wonderfully warm, and smelled faintly of woodsmoke and a clean, maternal scent he couldn't name. "I love it! It's the best sweater I've ever had, Ron, thank you." It was the first gift he had ever received that was truly made for him, woven with simple, undeniable care.
"Now stop gawking, you great lump," Harry laughed, pushing a pile of his own gifts toward Ron. "Here's yours. Open it!"
Ron, mollified and excited, ripped into his presents, quickly discovering a new, enchanted chess set and a large box of his favorite sweets. "Hermione sent her gift—a book on rare Charms and a massive tin of Bertie Bott's. She wrote that she was ridiculously jealous that we're studying advanced Charms with the Professor, which is rich, since we haven't studied at all!"
Then, Harry picked up a long, narrow package that felt strangely light and pliable. He pulled off the plain, anonymous brown paper and gasped.
He held up a shimmering, silver-grey cloak. It flowed like water and seemed to instantly absorb the ambient light, yet somehow still looked incredibly soft.
Ron's jaw dropped. "Oh my God, that's… that's absolutely fantastic!" His voice was hoarse with awe. "Put it on, Harry! Please, put it on!"
Curiosity overriding all else, Harry threw the strange, silken cloak over his shoulders.
"Well? What do you think? Do you know what this is, Ron?"
Ron was already leaping up and down, pointing frantically at the space where Harry's torso should have been. "I knew it! It has to be! It's an Invisibility Cloak! Look! You're gone! I can see the wall right through you!"
Harry looked down. His body had vanished completely from sight. He reached out a hand and touched the fabric; it was undoubtedly still there, but visually, only the plush carpet remained. It was magnificent—the highest level of defensive enchantment he could imagine.
But in the center of the empty wrapping paper, he found a note. It was penned in elegant, unfamiliar cursive. It read simply: "Your father left this in my keeping. Use it well."
The joy of the incredible gift abruptly soured into a bittersweet ache. The cloak was not just a magical artifact; it was an inheritance, a memento of a father he had never known. The identity of the anonymous sender and the connection to his past left him stunned and momentarily forlorn, lost in the mystery of his parents' life.
His sadness, however, couldn't withstand the enthusiasm of the twins, who had now come close enough to witness the magic.
"An Invisibility Cloak! A real one, not one of those cheap, illusion-based models!" Fred exclaimed, already reaching out to pinch the invisible fabric.
"This is an Advanced Disillusionment Artifact!" George declared, his scientific curiosity instantly engaged. "The refractive quality is impeccable! Imagine the things we could test with this!"
Harry's gloom quickly dissipated in the face of their sheer, infectious excitement. After a morning spent trying on the cloak and taking turns playing elaborate games of hide-and-seek, the group settled down to a hearty breakfast.
The rest of Christmas Day was a joyous blur. The group, energized by the meal and the crisp air, grabbed their wands and rushed to the snow-covered backyard for a spectacular rematch of the Yuletide Brawl.
This time, there was no professor refereeing, only the pure thrill of launching massive Arcus Nivalis snowballs at one another. They played until their robes were soaked, their faces were numb, and their lungs burned from the cold.
Afterwards, they rushed indoors, using simple, repeated Siccatus Charms (Drying Spells) to quickly dry their clothes. The afternoon was devoted entirely to the arcade, where Ron, fully recovered from his morning's shock, dominated a few simple racing games but was quickly outmatched by the twins' coordinated maneuvers in a strategic aerial combat simulator.
As evening descended, the atmosphere in Swann Manor transitioned from playful excitement to warm, festive elegance.
The dining room was transformed. The long table was laden with an immense, magnificent Christmas Eve dinner. The centerpiece was a golden-brown Roast Turkey, glistening with savory spices.
It was flanked by a massive, honey-glazed Christmas Ham with impossibly crisp skin. Bowls overflowed with fragrant Roasted Potatoes and root vegetables caramelized with maple syrup. The air was thick with the rich, intoxicating aroma of a hundred combined spices.
For dessert, Mia had prepared a feast of sugar and magic: a towering, intricately decorated Gingerbread Castle complete with miniature, moving guardians; a steaming Christmas Pudding flaming with brandy; and a magnificent, three-tiered Chocolate Fountain that immediately captivated the attention of Fred and George.
Sebastian raised a sparkling glass of Elderflower Cordial. He smiled genuinely at the young, energized faces around the table.
"Young wizards, your presence has made Swann Manor an extraordinarily vibrant, and somewhat louder, place. Thank you for sharing your holiday with us," he said warmly. "And thank you, Mia, for crafting such a wonderful Christmas feast."
"Merry Christmas, everyone!"
"Merry Christmas!" the group chorused back, raising their glasses, the sound of glass clicking against glass echoing through the grand hall.
The dinner continued in a haze of laughter and good cheer. Harry shared hilarious stories of their disastrous attempts to levitate cauldrons. Fred and George recounted their latest lab mishap, which involved accidentally creating a sentient, singing lemon meringue. Percy, even, offered a small, shy smile and contributed a surprisingly witty anecdote about a Transfiguration lesson gone wrong.
Ron, eating with an immense, joyful hunger—his mouth greasy from the turkey skin—chewed slowly, taking a moment for internal reflection.
Professor Swann is… normal. He's kind. He's generous. He taught us a cool spell, and he didn't once mention detention or make a nasty comment to Harry.
Ron realized, with a sudden, painful clarity, how deeply his ingrained family prejudice against Slytherin had colored his judgment. He had automatically assumed Professor Swann, the former Head of Slytherin, must be cruel or biased.
Harry was right. My prejudice against Slytherin runs deep. The professors aren't all bad. In fact, this is the best Christmas ever.
After the last crumb of pudding was consumed, Sebastian led the group to the expansive backyard, which was now bathed in the ethereal, silvery light of the full moon.
"Come, come," Sebastian urged, his eyes sparkling with a secret joy. He produced a massive trunk, easily five feet long, and with a flick of his wand, it popped open to reveal hundreds of shimmering, magically charged fireworks. "A Christmas tradition: The Magical Fireworks Festival is about to begin. These aren't Muggle rockets; these are fully controlled, complex displays of pyrotechnic Charms."
Fred and George exchanged a look of sheer, collaborative ecstasy. "You heard the man!" Fred shouted.
"New alchemical targets acquired!" George completed, and the twins eagerly sprinted forward, snatching the first firework—a rocket labeled 'Hogwarts Herald.'
With a satisfying CRACKLE, the firework shot into the night sky, soaring hundreds of feet above the manor.
WHOOMP!
It burst into a blazing explosion of pure gold, instantly coalescing into a gigantic, luminous, floating Hogwarts Emblem. Golden sparks rained down, shimmering over the snowy grounds, illuminating the entire garden with a momentary, brilliant light.
"Incredible!" the children yelled, stunned by the sheer size and detail of the display.
The twins immediately lit a second, much smaller, string of firecrackers. These shot up and exploded into a continuous chain of color, forming four distinct animals: a bold, shimmering Lion; a cunning, silver-green Serpent; a majestic, brown-feathered Eagle; and a loyal, stout Badger. The house mascots danced across the night sky in a synchronized, majestic ballet.
Harry and Ron, unable to stand on the sidelines any longer, raced forward to light the next sequence. Their choice resulted in a breathtaking trilogy of Charms.
The first explosion yielded a colossal, brilliant Phoenix. It was composed of countless, shimmering sparks, its fiery plumage dazzling. When it spread its wings—a span that seemed to cover the entire night sky—it soared in a slow, graceful loop, leaving a long, trailing plume of golden, incandescent light.
Next, a silver-white Unicorn burst forth. Its mane and tail were crafted from fine, cascading sparks that seemed to gallop on the wind. With every imaginary step it took through the air, it left behind a bright, shimmering trail of pure, ethereal light.
Finally, the grand finale of the sequence: the enormous, intricate silhouette of Hogwarts Castle slowly materialized. The towers, battlements, and windows were drawn in vibrant, constantly flickering sparks, the detail astonishingly clear against the black canvas of the night.
"Merlin's beard, Professor!" Ron bellowed, his voice filled with amazement and financial horror. "Who knows how many Galleons that must have cost! That was spectacular!"
Fred and George, however, had already transitioned from awe to engineering. They looked at the dancing, shimmering castle, then at each other.
"It is decided," Fred declared, already hunting for specific components in the trunk.
"We are designing our own fireworks display for next year!" George finished, their eyes full of ambitious new Charms targets.
Harry, looking up at the ephemeral beauty of the flaming castle, remembered an old Muggle superstition. He leaned toward the others, his eyes shining in the brilliant, momentary light.
"Make a wish now!" he shouted over the crackling of the sparks. "It's very effective!"
Inspired by the sheer scale of the magic surrounding them, the young wizards closed their eyes and shouted their deepest desires into the cold night air:
"I wish for high marks on all my OWLs next year!" Percy cried, serious even in his wishes.
"To invent the most interesting magical tools the world has ever seen!" the twins shouted in unison.
"To get rich now!" Ron yelled, ever practical.
"To be strong enough to face whatever comes next!" Harry whispered, his wish swallowed by the wind, his hand resting on the smooth, invisible fabric of the cloak hidden beneath his robe.
The sheer volume of magic and the scale of the Christmas celebration—from the dueling practice to the fireworks—show Sebastian's commitment to Harry and his friends. What kind of personalized, enchanted gifts do you think Sebastian will present to the Yuletide Brawl MVPs, Harry and Malfoy, on the final day of the holiday?