*Great-Hall*
"Well—"
Professor McGonagall smiled and looked at the three Gryffindor wizards sitting down. She noticed the tension between them, but she decided not to interfere. After scanning the room, she found that all the young wizards were waiting for her speech.
"I don't have much to say, everyone. Oh, except for one thing, let's eat quickly!"
She clapped her hands and said cheerfully.
The sound of clinking cutlery immediately filled the Great Hall. Harry leaned forward and took a roasted potato. He was hungry after the long day, and the food smelled delicious.
Tap-Tap-Tap
Suddenly, everyone's attention was drawn to the footsteps coming from the entrance hall.
It was Malfoy—
He seemed to have been running for a while, his hair was wet, and sweat dripped from his pale cheeks. He looked out of breath and nervous.
Harry and Ron exchanged a subtle glance, feeling something was off. They wondered what Malfoy was doing at this time, and why he was so flustered. But the next moment, Snape voiced their confusion.
"Why is it just you, Draco?"
Professor Snape stared at Malfoy with a suspicious look.
"Where are Crabbe and Goyle?"
"They're full, so they didn't come, Professor—" Malfoy answered in a dry voice.
"Pffft"
Ron burst into laughter. He couldn't help it.
Crabbe and Goyle were full? That was unheard of at Hogwarts. They were notorious for their huge appetites and their lack of manners. They would never miss a chance to stuff their faces with food, especially on a special occasion like Christmas.
Harry immediately nudged Ron with his elbow because the old bat Snape was still staring at Ron with a cold gaze. He didn't want Ron to get into trouble for laughing at Malfoy, even though he agreed with him. He also wanted to avoid Snape's attention, which was never a good thing.
Even Ron could tell that it was a complete lie, and Snape should be able to see through it. Snape raised his chin and squinted his eyes, his dark eyes hiding imperceptible concern and frustration.
"What about Professor Lupin? As far as I know, he should still be at the school. Why isn't he here?"
The ripple caused by the earlier joke had just subsided, and Malfoy's random question once again disrupted the rhythm of the group's Christmas feast.
It was a strange question, coming from him.
Too strange!
Harry and Ron immediately turned their gaze to Malfoy, and even Hermione, who was hesitating whether to talk with Professor McGonagall privately, blinked and looked at Malfoy.
'Draco actually cared if Lupin came to dinner?!'
"I'm surprised, Draco," Snape looked at Malfoy suspiciously, "I always thought you didn't like him."
"Well—"
Malfoy seemed to realize the abruptness of his question. He pursed his lips and quickly said, "I just sent a letter to my father from the Owlery, and Professor Lupin also came to send a letter—"
Snape wanted to ask more, but Professor McGonagall interrupted him, displeased.
"This is the place for a Christmas dinner, Severus, not the Ministry of Magic's courtroom."
With that, Professor McGonagall looked at Malfoy again, her gaze filled with satisfaction.
"Perhaps it's because he's sick again. Professor Lupin greeted me earlier and said he didn't have much appetite. But if he knew about your concern, Mr. Malfoy, he would definitely not mind coming down to sit—"
Apart from the initial commotion, Malfoy behaved normally during the two-hour Christmas feast. He ate and drank quietly, avoiding eye contact with anyone. He didn't say a word, except for a few polite responses to Snape's occasional inquiries.
This made Harry lose interest in him and instead quietly discussed the information Malfoy had just revealed with Ron and Hermione at the dinner table. They whispered to each other, trying not to attract attention from the teachers or the other students.
"What do you think—"
Chewing on the tender and juicy steak, Harry, using the candlestick to block the professor's view, asked in a low voice.
"Malfoy said he met Lupin while sending a letter. Could it be that Lupin was inquiring about the Firebolt I have?"
Hermione, who was sipping pumpkin soup, rolled her eyes in silence. She was annoyed by Harry's obsession with the Firebolt, which she considered a dangerous and suspicious object.
"In my opinion, Professor Lupin's concern for that 'parchment' is higher than that mysterious Firebolt!"
After a hearty lunch in the Great Hall, several professors exchanged warm wishes as they prepared to leave the school for the upcoming holiday. They had no intention of staying at the gloomy and deserted Hogwarts, where only a handful of students remained.
The young wizards who had chosen to stay also dispersed quickly, eager to enjoy their free time in any way they could. Harry, Ron, and Hermione found themselves standing alone in the entrance hall, debating how to spend their afternoon. Even Hermione, who usually buried herself in books, had no desire to waste her Christmas day in the empty library or the silent common room.
Harry's eyes wandered to the window, where he could see the snow-covered playground. He longed to fly his Firebolt, the best broomstick in the world, and feel the wind in his hair and the thrill in his chest. But he knew better than to mention it in front of Hermione, who was still upset about the whole affair. Ron's suggestion of visiting Hagrid's hut was also met with a cold refusal.
They had made a promise to help Buckbeak, the hippogriff that was facing a trial for attacking Draco Malfoy. But so far, they had only managed to find a few case files that might be useful for his defense. Most of them were hopeless, and some were downright depressing. Harry did not want to face Hagrid's eager questions when they had nothing to show for their efforts.
In the end, the three of them decided to take a stroll on the lawn, hoping to digest the delicious food they had stuffed in their stomachs.
The recent spell of extreme cold had turned the layer of snow covering the ground into fine powder. A gust of wind blew, and all the snow on the surface flew up into the sky, creating a blinding white swirl. It was as if a sandstorm had swept through the vast campus, obscuring everything in sight.
Harry wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck, feeling the cold bite his skin. He decided to bring up the topic that they had avoided discussing in depth at the dining table, for fear of being overheard.
"You said Professor Lupin would be more concerned about that piece of parchment, Hermione?" he asked, referring to the Marauder's Map, a magical map that showed the location of everyone in Hogwarts.
"Isn't it obvious, Harry?" Hermione replied, rubbing her red face, frozen from the cold. She turned her head to look at the tower where Professor Watson's office was located.
"Think about Professor Lupin's reaction when he heard from Filch that Professor Watson was looking for that map of yours, Harry. He seemed very surprised, even more so than when he saw you holding the Firebolt." Hermione said, recalling the scene that had happened earlier that day.
"I thought–" Ron began, sounding confused.
"He was wondering why Professor Watson wanted a old piece of parchment?" he guessed, shrugging his shoulders.
It was definitely not as simple as Ron said. Even Harry dared not come to such a conclusion.
In fact, on the night when they had sneaked into Hogsmeade and were caught by Professor Watson, Harry had thought that Lupin might be related to the Marauder's Map. He had recognized the map as soon as he heard clues related to it. But because of Ron's quick thinking and perfect lie at the time, Lupin had let them go without further questioning.
Later, Fred and George, the Weasley twins, accidentally overheard that Professor Watson was looking for the Marauder's Map. Harry had also discussed with Ron and Hermione why Professor Watson knew about the map's existence. The only logical explanation they could come up with was that Lupin might be the creator of the map.
This explanation sounded incredible, because Lupin seemed to have nothing to do with breaking school rules or playing pranks. He was a serious and strict teacher, who always looked tired and ill. He was nothing like the mischievous and daring personalities that the map's makers had displayed.
But if that was the case, then the answer to how Professor Watson knew about the Marauder's Map was very obvious —Professor Lupin had told him.
But today's events had overturned the previous explanation. It seemed that there was no communication between Professor Lupin and Professor Watson regarding the Marauder's Map. Moreover, Lupin even believed that Professor Watson probably didn't know about it at all–based on his behavior.
This was indeed a puzzling question that even Hermione, couldn't figure out the connection.
Between the two professors, Lupin undoubtedly seemed more like the creator of the Marauder's Map. But if it wasn't him who had told Professor Watson, then who could it be?
Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs–these were the nicknames of the four makers of the map, as written on the parchment. If Lupin was one of these four, theoretically, even if it wasn't Professor Lupin, it could be one of the other three who had revealed the information to Professor Watson. But the other three were obviously not at Hogwarts now, otherwise Professor Lupin would have recognized them.
They couldn't discover the truth just by guessing. After discussing for a while, Harry and the others gave up on delving deeper. They decided to enjoy their walk and forget about the mystery for now.
In the following time, bathed in pale sunlight, the three of them played in the snow. To make it more fun, they used their wands to mold the powdery snow into balls and threw them at each other. The game started harmoniously, but as Hermione added some "special magic" to the snowballs, such as the Bewitched Snowballs Charm, the situation quickly became one-sided.
Harry and Ron teamed up against Hermione, but they were no match for her cleverness and skill. They were bombarded by the powerful ice balls that flew towards them from all directions, and they ran around in pain, trying to dodge or block them.
The cries of the two young wizards and Hermione's laughter echoed in the yard, carried by the cold wind.
"Anyway,"
After more than an hour, the exhausted three of them supported each other back to the castle. They stood in the entrance hall, brushing off the snow from their bodies and boots. Hermione, in a much better mood, patted the ice particles in her fluffy hair and said solemnly,
"I hope you can stay vigilant, Harry. Whether it's the Firebolt or the Marauder's Map, I hope you will voluntarily hand them over. The professors will help you confirm if they are safe."
She was still worried about the possibility that someone had cursed the broomstick or the map, and that they might harm Harry in some way.
"No way, Harry!"
Taking advantage of the relaxed atmosphere, Ron made a funny face at Hermione.
"Maybe the professors will return the Firebolt to Harry, but do you expect them to return the Marauder's Map too? That map isn't dangerous. Fred and George have used it for years, and they have already confirmed it for Harry–"
He argued, trying to convince Hermione that the map was harmless and useful.
"If I hand over the map, Hermione–"
Harry also said jokingly,
"I can't expect Fred and George to be my Beaters in the Quidditch match anymore. They might just hit the Bludger at me directly because that map is their most precious thing!"
He knew how much the twins valued the map, and how they had entrusted it to him as a gift. He didn't want to betray their trust, or lose such a valuable thing.
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