In the days that followed, despite the increasingly cold weather, the Ravenclaw common room was filled with an atmosphere of celebration. Everyone admired Aglaia's actions, which had turned the tide.
Aglaia herself basked in the joy of her success, strutting about proudly every day like a peacock displaying its feathers to impress.
Whenever she happened to pass by Hoffa, she would deliberately steer the conversation toward Quidditch, as if her unspoken message to him was, "Praise me, go ahead, praise me again."
Hoffa could hardly imagine how unbearable he would find this boastful peacock if not for Schmidt Rutloff's existence.
Thankfully, he had grown accustomed to her antics.
If she ever toned down her flamboyance, that would truly be unusual.
Of course, Hoffa wouldn't give her the satisfaction of actually praising her.
However, his encounter with the masked figure left him unsettled.
After the deadly fight in the Forbidden Forest, Hoffa had resolved to take action to change his circumstances and escape the shadow of the dark wizard.
But when he actually tried to do so, Hoffa discovered it was far from simple.
He returned countless times to the club, attempting to locate the masked person.
Yet all his efforts were in vain.
He knew nothing about the individual—not their name, not their identity. Even if he wanted to report them, he wouldn't know where to start. The portrait guarding the clubroom had long been empty, and entry was impossible.
Thinking about Schmidt still on the run and the lethal intent he'd faced in the Forbidden Forest, Hoffa felt a thorn in his heart—a lingering unease.
He was determined to find that person.
Finally, the term came to an end.
On a serene morning, Hoffa, who had chosen to stay behind in the dormitory, welcomed his first Christmas holiday at Hogwarts.
Early that morning, he woke from his sleep to find himself weighed down by something heavy.
He got up to see what it was and realized it was the weather blanket he had ordered for Maya.
Hoffa stood and unfolded the blanket.
Instantly, the room's temperature rose noticeably, giving the impression of standing in a dry desert.
The blanket depicted a scene of brown soil bathed in sunlight, its colors shifting with the intensity of the rays—sometimes deep blue, sometimes brown, and at other times, a fiery red.
Above the blanket hovered oppressive clouds rumbling with distant thunder.
In the desert below stood columnar cacti, on which tiny owls perched. Among the cactus forest roamed wild boars native to the Americas, desert tortoises, large scorpions, rattlesnakes hissing ominously, and fearsome Gila monsters.
It was a perfect miniature representation of Arizona's climate.
Hoffa was very pleased. He had recently sent the mischievous Joy Owl to Diagon Alley to buy it.
After admiring the weather blanket, Hoffa was about to take it to Maya when he noticed two small boxes underneath it.
This surprised him—he wasn't in the habit of celebrating Christmas and hadn't expected to receive gifts from anyone.
Could someone have sent him a present?
Setting the blanket aside, Hoffa opened the two boxes on the floor.
The first box was made of paper, wrinkled and damp with melted snow, as if it had traveled a long way. Inside was a letter.
The letter contained only a few words:
"Indore. Private."
He opened the letter, finding only two thin sheets of paper inside.
The first sheet read:
"Merry Christmas, Hoffa. I hope you're doing well. Forgive me for leaving without saying goodbye last time. I dare not contact you openly, as Hogwarts still hasn't identified the person who sabotaged the teleportation array, and it's not safe yet."
Gosak and I reached an agreement to move the teleportation array from the hunting grounds to the observatory. But I'm not sure if it will work. Even with Hogwarts' assistance, it seems impossible to stop the spread of war.
The situation outside is dire. I've relocated to New York City in the United States. If you ever have the chance, you're welcome to visit me there.
Indor.
P.S. Schmidt might still be somewhere in Britain. Be extremely cautious—his abilities are bizarre. Whatever you do, don't leave the school grounds.
After reading the first letter, Hoffa pulled out the second sheet of paper.
It wasn't a letter but a ship ticket.
The ticket featured a lively and scenic port, with glass buildings and a bottle washed up on a sandy beach.
London Thames Port – Manhattan Port, New York, USA.(This ticket can be used for boarding at any time.)
After seeing the Christmas gift Indor had sent him, Hoffa couldn't help but smirk in disbelief.
A ship ticket?
For some reason, he suddenly thought of The Shawshank Redemption and the relationship between Red and Andy.
Was Indor playing the role of Andy? Escaping from "prison" only to send a ship ticket to him, the one still "imprisoned"? How creative. But after everything he'd been put through, did Indor really think Hoffa would go out of his way to find him? Dream on, Indor.
Still, receiving the letter had eased some of the resentment Hoffa harbored toward him.
For the past few weeks, every time he thought about that cunning little goblin, Hoffa would grind his teeth in frustration.
After carefully putting away the letter and ticket, Hoffa turned his attention to the other box on the floor.
Compared to Indor's crude packaging, this box was exquisite—made of redwood with intricate silver patterns etched on it.
He examined it thoroughly, but there was no signature. Curiosity piqued, Hoffa opened it.
Inside was a blue rinsing cup, decorated with an animated troll. The troll was brushing its teeth by a river in a hilariously dumb manner.
Hoffa's expression darkened immediately.
He stuffed the cup back into the box and shoved the box under his bed, swearing never to touch it again in his lifetime.
After inspecting the gifts, Hoffa grabbed his weather blanket and left his dormitory.
Outside the common room, snowflakes danced in the air, tapping against the frosted windowpanes. Holly and metallic foil twined around the staircase railings, perpetual candles flickered inside the helmets of suits of armor, and bundles of mistletoe hung at intervals along the corridors.
Hoffa thought he'd have to go all the way to the forest treehouse to find Joy, but he was mistaken.
When he reached the entrance hall, he spotted Joy wielding his wand, single-handedly moving Christmas trees into the Great Hall. He'd already brought in eleven.
"Joy!"
Hoffa's sudden appearance from beneath the mistletoe startled Joy.
Joy looked slightly flustered. "What are you doing here? I didn't prepare a gift for you."
"No problem. You can save it for later and repay me by recruiting me into Mormonism when I'm an adult."
"Enough!" Joy said irritably. "We've been over this. Stop mocking my faith! I won't let you join my religion because of your juvenile fantasies."
Hoffa laughed heartily. Once his laughter subsided, he handed the blanket to Joy.
"Alright, here. This is for you. Take care of Maya. If you need help, write to me."
Before Joy could open the blanket, Hoffa disappeared beneath the mistletoe.
After delivering the blanket to Joy, Hoffa didn't return to the common room right away.
There was something more important he needed to do.
He headed to the Hogwarts club tower—a task he had been repeating for over half a month now.
For Hoffa, finding the masked person was a matter of life and death.
With the enemy in the shadows and himself exposed, the situation made him feel extremely uneasy.
To reach the club tower, Hoffa had to pass through the Great Hall. As he walked by, he noticed Tom Riddle standing at the entrance, arms crossed, chatting with a group of green-robed Slytherins.
When Hoffa passed him, Riddle smirked slightly and said, "Merry Christmas, Hoffa."
Receiving a holiday greeting from the future Lord Voldemort didn't bring Hoffa any joy.
He responded mechanically, "Same to you, Tom."
The weather was freezing, and snow blanketed the world outside. A heavy silence, like the thick layers of snow, enveloped the club tower. With two-thirds of the students having left for the holidays, the place felt far emptier than usual.
Out of caution, Hoffa cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself as he approached the tower, though he wasn't sure if it would be effective against the masked figure.
He walked along the tower corridor to a quiet corner.
The halls were empty, and even the paintings on the walls were devoid of occupants.
When Hoffa finally reached his destination, it looked exactly the same as it had for the past half-month: an unremarkable corner with an empty painting.
He circled the area twice, unsurprised by yet another fruitless visit.
Regardless, he had resolved to come here every day, whether or not it yielded results.
He turned to head back to the common room.
But just as he descended the stairs and rounded a corner, he encountered an entirely unexpected visitor.
It was an old man dressed in gray robes. His back was hunched, the top of his head bald, and his eyes carried a shadowy sharpness.
Armando Dippet.
The current headmaster of Hogwarts.
The moment Hoffa saw him, Dippet also turned and looked directly at the spot where Hoffa was concealed by the Disillusionment Charm.
Hoffa's heart sank. Better to avoid trouble than to invite it. He had hidden himself to avoid the masked figure, not to end up questioned by the headmaster.
Without hesitation, Hoffa activated his ghost-walking state.
Dippet's brows furrowed immediately.
After five or six seconds, he rubbed his eyes and muttered, "Getting old."
With that, he passed right by Hoffa, who remained hidden in his shadowy form.
Hoffa felt a cold sweat break out. Is seeing through invisibility a standard ability for Hogwarts headmasters? After all, Harry Potter's Invisibility Cloak didn't seem very effective against Dumbledore either.
Before Hoffa could dwell too much on Dippet's impressive eyesight, something in the headmaster's hand caught his attention.
Dippet, hands clasped behind his back, walked away. Yet in his right hand, he was holding something.
A fresh bouquet of violets.
(Chapter End)
Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon
https://patreon.com/Glimmer09