December. Christmas.
After the terrifying turmoil of last Christmas, the students of Hogwarts could hardly wait to enjoy a real, wonderful holiday at last. The most obvious sign of this was the unprecedented number of students choosing to stay at school over the break—most of them Muggle-born. This time last year, they had been thoroughly frightened.
As the heroes who had put an end to both the Basilisk and the Board of Governors' conspiracy, Avada, Baron, Harry, and Luna naturally drew a great deal of attention on this particularly meaningful day. Hermione, the twins, and the others who had also taken part in the incident were likewise extremely popular—their contributions had long since spread through Gryffindor's informal channels.
So early on Christmas morning, Avada—who had slept in after staying up all night finalizing arrangements for Nathan Clarke—woke up to find himself practically buried under a mountain of gifts. And that was only a small portion of them; most of the earlier deliveries had already been neatly sorted by his dormmates…
After counting them, Avada conservatively estimated that more than half of the school's Muggle-born students had sent him Christmas presents. There were also plenty from half-bloods and pure-bloods, and even quite a few from parents he had never met. This was far beyond anything he could reasonably return one by one.
In the end, he had no choice but to head into the kitchens with Harry, Baron, Luna, and the others who had suffered the same fate. Working alongside the house-elves, they went all out to prepare four enormous tables of exceptionally lavish Christmas dinner for the students who stayed behind, offering it as a collective return gift. It nearly exhausted every last recipe Avada could remember.
During the feast, some students even danced a Basilisk routine using poles, astonishing both students and professors alike—it was said to be Cho's idea.
All in all, this Christmas at Hogwarts was lively, peaceful, and completely uneventful.
…
Meanwhile, in London.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Outside a narrow, run-down building stood a young man wrapped in an old overcoat and wearing a knit cap. He held a suitcase in one hand and knocked on the door with the other, careful and rhythmic…
No one answered.
After several attempts with no response, the young man clenched his teeth and tried the doorknob. With a soft click, the door opened. He cautiously pulled it ajar—only to be startled by the sudden roar of noise pouring out from inside.
He quickly stepped in and shut the door behind him. After a brief glance around, he walked straight to the bar, where an old man was calmly polishing glasses and occasionally chatting with customers.
Old Tom's being unusually restrained today… ah, right. His granddaughter Hannah came back for the holidays.
"Sorry to bother you."
The young man raised his voice slightly to be heard over the din, speaking in clear American English. "May I ask—is this the entrance to Britain's wizarding world?"
"From America?"Old Tom glanced at him in surprise. "This is the Leaky Cauldron, one of the gathering places for wizards. I'm the owner—Tom. I didn't think anyone would travel abroad on business during Christmas."
"Actually, I'm from Australia. And it's not really business…"
The young man smiled a little shyly. "Do you know where the entrance to the British Ministry of Magic is?"
"You're going to the Ministry? On Christmas?"Tom raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't your Ministry take holidays over there? Around here, the Ministry keeps only minimal staff on duty during Christmas, mostly focused on preventing emergencies… Can you imagine how efficient they are right now?"
"So when will things return to normal?"
"At least another week."
"That's a problem. I can't afford to wait too long…"After hesitating briefly, the young man asked, "Could you tell me where the entrance is? I'm afraid I still need to go as soon as possible."
"…All right."
Without asking further questions, Tom crouched down and rummaged under the counter, pulling out a crumpled map. He spread it open and pointed to a red dot.
"It's here. The entrance is disguised as a telephone booth. Go inside, dial 62442, tell the receptionist your reason for visiting, and it'll issue you a silver badge…"
After patiently explaining the entire process, he added, "Still, I wouldn't get my hopes up. During Christmas, there's always some idiot wizard who gets drunk and exposes magic in front of Muggles. With so few staff on duty, by the time you get your turn, the holiday will probably be over."
"…Do you offer rooms here?"
"Of course!"
Tom's eyes lit up at once, his tone turning far warmer. "Five Sickles a night, breakfast included. Don't worry—the rooms are spacious and clean. Do you have local currency? If not, you can exchange at Gringotts—right out back. They don't close for Christmas."
"I've got some gold… what do you call it? Galleons? Gallons? And I hear your exchange system is a bit… uh, unique?"
"It's not very friendly to foreigners,"Tom snorted. "One Galleon equals seventeen Sickles, one Sickle equals twenty-nine Knuts. Honestly, it's not friendly to locals either—but you get used to it. Seven nights?"
He efficiently collected the two Galleons and one Sickle placed on the counter and handed over a key. "Third floor. If you want to shop, Diagon Alley's entrance is in the back courtyard. Count three bricks up from the trash bin, then two across, tap it three times with your wand… You do have a wand, right?"
"Of course,"the young man laughed. "I'm not from Uagadou."
As he spoke, he pulled a jet-black wand from his pocket and flicked a few sparks.
"That'll do. What should I call you?"
"Clarke."
He tucked away the wand and key, then smiled. "Nathan Clarke."
"Thanks for the information. I'll come back for a drink later—but first I need to visit the Ministry. See you."
With that, Nathan Clarke spun sharply. With a soft crack, he vanished on the spot, startling Tom, who muttered in annoyance, "Apparating inside a pub? No manners at all…"
"Probably a reckless kid,"a nearby patron who had overheard part of the conversation lazily chimed in. "And Australia's not exactly a pleasant place. Heard there are loads of wild and Dark wizards hiding out in the deserts. The wizarding community there's small to begin with… and a whole continent without a magic school? You get all kinds of people from places like that."
"True enough… but whatever. The ones who'll be losing sleep over it are the folks at the Ministry."
"Still, wasn't the noise from that Apparition unusually quiet?"
…
Hiss.
With a faint sound in the air, Nathan Clarke dropped his Disillusionment Charm after confirming no one was around. He stepped out of the dark alley and immediately spotted the dilapidated telephone booth, narrowing his eyes.
"It begins."
(End of Chapter)