Chapter 59
Christmas had arrived and when Lucian woke up that morning, three tall stacks of gift boxes had already accumulated in the corner of his office, piled high like sheaves of rice.
"Merry Christmas, Professor."
"Merry Christmas, Master."
"Merry Christmas to you both as well."
His two assistants and Barton had risen even earlier than him, yet they hadn't started opening any presents—they seemed to be waiting for Lucian to join them.
In previous years, the students from the study group would always celebrate together with them, exchanging gifts among themselves.
This year the circumstances were special. Lucian had decided to stay at school and spend the holiday with his colleagues instead of returning, so he hadn't gone back—but they had still sent one another gifts by owl.
"Come on, let's open them together."
Seeing the familiar scene from years past, an inexplicable wave of joy rose in Lucian's heart. This feeling was something he had never experienced before—could simply changing the angle from which one viewed things really bring about such a drastic shift in mindset?
Lost in thought, he began opening gifts alongside his assistants and Barton.
As for the gifts he had prepared for others, he had long since handed full responsibility over to Barton—the house-elf had always been his all-around life steward.
Moreover, since Barton helped out in the kitchens every day, he had come to know the preferences of many of the professors. When it came to choosing gifts, he was far more thoughtful and appropriate than Lucian himself could ever be.
Still, while opening presents, Lucian suddenly thought that perhaps next year he should pick out the Christmas gifts himself—just like the ones he had personally prepared for his two assistants.
Dumbledore had given Lucian a seven-page handwritten manuscript by Godric Gryffindor himself, titled 'The Wisdom of Courage'.
Professor McGonagall's gift was also a handwritten manuscript; Lucian flipped through it quickly—it was a collection of prose poems written by Rowena Ravenclaw.
Next came Professor Flitwick's gift—another manuscript, this time the alchemical notes of a medieval alchemical master.
It was as if the three of them had made an appointment; all three had given him the exact same type of gift.
"Looks like that's the impression I've left on them." Lucian gave a soft chuckle. He was extremely pleased with these presents.
Only Snape…
Snape had sent him a vial of extremely potent Veritaserum, along with a note: 'This should help an idiot like you figure out where you actually stand.'
"Barton, make a note—next year Snape's Christmas gift is going to be a whole crate of premium strengthening shampoo. From the Potters' family workshop."
"Yes, Master."
After that, several other professors he had met in passing also sent him gifts, though they were mostly polite, conventional items. Lucian went through them quickly.
On a side note, the gamekeeper Hagrid had sent him some unicorn tail hair—though he had no use for it, one had to admit it was quite a generous gesture.
Even the caretaker Filch had sent him a few odd little trinkets, explaining in the accompanying letter that he had collected them from former students over the years. Now that those students had graduated, he had taken the liberty of passing them on to Lucian.
Besides the professors, quite a number of students had also sent him gifts.
Ginny gave him a bright red scarf.
Cedric sent him a beautifully bound copy of 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'.
Hermione sent him a complete set of chemistry lab equipment and Harry and Ron had pooled their resources to give him one joint gift: a collection of small toys along with some of Mrs. Weasley's homemade fudge.
Neville sent him a potted plant he had raised himself.
Percy sent him a book titled 'How to Gain Power from Zero'… This guy's obsession with power was something Lucian genuinely could not comprehend—why would anyone in a world where raw magical strength decided everything go chasing after other forms of power?
A student named Luna Lovegood sent him a wind chime made from butterbeer corks and gurdyroot stems. In her letter she thanked him for stepping in earlier to help her recover some lost belongings—she had apparently been bullied by some of her peers for being so eccentric. Lucian had handled the matter with unusual seriousness at the time.
Draco Malfoy sent him an ink bottle carved from snakewood and not just him—more than half of the Slytherin students had sent him gifts, along with the other members of his study group.
Lucian accepted each one, sorting them into two categories: useful and unlikely-to-be-useful. Then, on the spot, he wrote thank-you letters and sent return gifts to those students he hadn't yet given anything to—exquisite sweets from Honeydukes. Perhaps a bit old-fashioned for someone his age, but for the younger ones the effect was outstanding.
All these odds and ends took nearly an hour and a half. After chatting a while longer with his two assistants about the gifts they had each received, he finally left the office—two full hours later.
But in the lazy atmosphere of a winter day, such lingering felt just right.
By the time he reached the Great Hall, only a scattering of professors and students remained at the tables, eating quietly, occasionally sharing soft laughter in low voices. Everything felt peaceful and beautiful.
Lucian and his two assistants quietly soaked in the atmosphere for half an hour before leaving the Great Hall and returning to the office.
Together with the house-elf Barton, the four of them sat on the sofa, gazing out the floor-to-ceiling window at the falling snow and exchanging recent observations and insights.
Barton took the opportunity to speak up as well, sharing many stories of things that had happened in the house-elves' kitchen.
Over the past ten-plus years, the four of them had almost never spent time together like this—holidays held no meaning at all for someone of Lucian's temperament.
He had even once considered the whole custom of painstakingly exchanging gifts every year to be an enormous hassle. It was only after Jeffery and Barton insisted that the tradition had been kept alive.
But now, Lucian genuinely felt from the bottom of his heart that this kind of "wasted time" actually carried meaning—not because the holiday itself was meaningful, but because the people he spent it with were meaningful.
When evening arrived, the Christmas feast began as scheduled.
One hundred plump roasted turkeys, mountains of roast meat and boiled potatoes, huge platters of delicious little sausages, bowls of buttered peas, dishes of thick rich gravy and cranberry sauce… All kinds of food filled the tables.
Huge piles of wizard crackers were set off by the students.
With explosions like cannon fire, people were engulfed in clouds of blue smoke, from which emerged admiral's hats and several wriggling white mice.
At the staff table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard hat for a flowered lady's bonnet. Professor Flitwick had just told him a joke, and he was chuckling happily.
Afterward, he and Professor McGonagall both cornered Lucian, eagerly asking him to share his teaching experiences—Snape sat coldly to the side, head lowered over his drink, but his ears were subtly pricked.
"Oh—you're all here! It's a happy day—let's not talk about work anymore!" Hagrid's face was as red as a baboon's backside. He threw an arm around the three of them and kept urging everyone to drink.
"Heh—"
From the side, Snape let out a cold snort, but the next moment a drunken Hagrid dragged him into the circle as well.
The five of them clinked glasses together. Then, quite naturally, Snape slid into the conversation about teaching methods, but clearly, he did not approve of Lucian's approach—or rather, he had never even considered doing things that way.
When Lucian casually remarked, "Snape, while you're certainly skilled with potions, I do think your teaching method is rather unsuitable for the students,"
Snape immediately bristled and began arguing with him but Lucian simply dismissed it with disdain—just letting students jump straight into brewing potions without ever demonstrating the process yourself, what was that if not borderline murder?
His attitude only made Snape angrier. He fired off several pointed questions in quick succession, all related to potion theory.
Lucian merely smiled faintly and refused to engage.
Professors Flitwick and McGonagall both laughed, stepping in to soothe Snape from the sidelines.
Seeing that Lucian wouldn't take the bait, and watching him laugh so easily, Snape gradually began to feel that getting angry on such a festive occasion was rather pointless. So he fell silent again, simply sitting there, occasionally taking a sip of wine, quietly listening to the others talk.
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