After the two prisoners were sent away, the professors and students dispersed, and the castle gradually grew quiet.
Snow was still falling outside. The Quidditch pitch was buried under thick drifts, offering little in the way of fun. Holiday life was somewhat dull. The boys gathered to play chess and chat, while Hermione, having just left Professor McGonagall's office, had been holed up in the library ever since.
Percy still wanted to lecture the twins, but George and Fred had hidden themselves away somewhere and were nowhere to be found.
The Christmas streamers still hung on the walls, though the candles and torches were extinguished. The third-floor corridor was a bit chilly. The statue of the one-eyed humpbacked witch stood silently. Melvin greeted her as he passed, walking unhurriedly back to his office.
"Mmm... mrr..."
Jormungandr (Yurm) wriggled in his pocket. Horned Serpents were still snakes and shared their habits; in winter, they always wanted to stay put and not move. Having just woken up, it let out a series of lazy groans and murmurs—a coquettish whining learned from Fang.
Melvin suspected the little guy understood human speech long ago but just refused to learn it.
After being fed a boiled egg and a portion of raw beef with blood, the Horned Serpent's belly bulged. Now it was even less willing to move. It coiled into a ball on the desk, not sleeping, just staring at him quietly.
That was the benefit of raising a snake: one feeding could last three or four days.
Melvin took the Gaunt ring from his drawer and fell into thought as he examined the black stone set in it.
Secrets of the Darkest Art explained the nature of Horcruxes. Regardless of the material before being made into a Horcrux, the object would forever remain in the state it was when the soul fragment attached to it. It would not age and could not be destroyed.
The ordinary diary sold at a Muggle newsstand was proof. It had been soaked in water in the bathroom; the cover and title page had water stains, and many pages were yellowed. Yet after so many years, there was no insect damage or rot. Ordinary magic couldn't touch these Horcruxes.
The Gaunt ancestors had set the Resurrection Stone into a ring, originally to disguise this Deathly Hallow. The materials chosen weren't precious—just ordinary copper or iron, roughly crafted. The band had a carved depression where the Resurrection Stone was set, held in place by a few bent metal prongs.
If it were ordinary material, one could simply pry open the prongs and release the catch to remove the Resurrection Stone.
But now the ring had been made into a Horcrux. Voldemort's soul fragment adhered to the band, making it indestructible. The metal prongs were immovable.
In those distant memories, after Dumbledore was cursed, he used the Sword of Gryffindor to destroy the ring and gouge out the Resurrection Stone. But the sword wasn't here. Among the spells Melvin knew, seemingly only Fiendfyre could affect a Horcrux.
If he forcibly melted it with Fiendfyre, given Melvin's precise control over Dark Magic, it wasn't impossible. However, doing so might alert Voldemort or even damage the Horcrux itself.
The sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle was still quite naive, easier to trick than other cunning Horcruxes. Melvin didn't want to lose this ally so soon.
Melvin stared at the ancient black stone ring, tapping his fingertips lightly on the desk. A Levitation Charm lifted the ring into the air.
"Ordinary processing methods can't break through the magic contained within the Horcrux. Excessive Fiendfyre risks damaging it..." Melvin pondered how to extract the Resurrection Stone and ultimately chose Transfiguration.
Transfiguration could be reversed, wouldn't damage the Horcrux, and wouldn't alert the Tom residing inside.
With a slight shift of intent, he extended the magic of Transfiguration toward it.
Softening hard metal—without changing its form or altering its state between living and dead—was considered simple, low-level Transfiguration. Even a third-year student wouldn't struggle too much with it.
Enveloped by Transfiguration magic imbued with the wizard's will, the three metal prongs holding the stone on the band suddenly trembled. Immediately, two different magical forces emerged from the ring and the Resurrection Stone, clashing with Melvin's Transfiguration spell.
The collision made a soft sound, and a weak shockwave rippled out, washing away the Levitation Charm holding it up.
The ring fell onto the hard wooden desk, spinning twice with a crisp clatter.
Melvin frowned slightly, staring at the motionless ring, and pondered for a moment.
Do I really have to go ask the Headmaster to borrow the sword?
Or go down to the Chamber of Secrets, wake up the sleeping Basilisk, and pull a few fangs?
Just as Melvin was caught in this dilemma, the little snake, full and sleepy, swayed as it crawled up, the tip of its tail flicking, and slowly approached the ring.
"Meow... woof?"
Yurm stuck out a pink tongue tip, making a soft, high-pitched sound with a long, drawn-out ending. It was hard to say if it was a meow or a bark.
Melvin understood, however, and looked at it suspiciously. "You can get the stone out?"
"Hiss..."
"Forget it, there's a curse on the ring."
Before Melvin finished speaking, Yurm had already bitten down. Crunch. The black stone fell out.
Only the bare band of the Gaunt ring remained. Two of the metal prongs were broken, but the ring didn't shake or vibrate, nor did it emit black smoke. It seemed the soul fragment residing inside hadn't been disturbed.
Perhaps the Horned Serpent's venom had a paralyzing effect.
"Your fangs haven't even erupted yet; how is your bite so strong?" Melvin pried open the little snake's jaw to look deep into its gums, only to be rejected by Yurm.
The little snake pushed his hand away with its tail and swayed back to lie on the desk.
Melvin smiled and smoothed its scales, then messed up its neatly coiled body before putting the ring into a box and picking up the black stone to examine it.
It was a polished black faceted gem, with a shallow and rounded pavilion. Its texture resembled obsidian or onyx. On the surface was a shallow, crack-like engraving: the symbol of the Deathly Hallows—a triangle enclosing a circle, bisected evenly by a vertical line.
In the legend of the Deathly Hallows, the three Peverell brothers crossed a river by conjuring a bridge, cheating Death. Angered, Death pretended to congratulate them for breaking his curse and offered them rewards.
The second brother, Cadmus, received the Resurrection Stone.
Melvin held reservations about the existence of Death as an entity, but he was certain the Resurrection Stone was no divine miracle, but rather some kind of alchemical object capable of crossing the boundary of life and death to summon the souls of the deceased.
Following the instructions in The Tales of Beedle the Bard, Melvin held the Resurrection Stone in his palm, turned it three times, and then focused his mind to feel.
Perhaps because Melvin's soul didn't belong to this world, he didn't see any deceased relatives. Or perhaps the world snakes go to after death is different from wizards', making communication via the Resurrection Stone difficult.
In any case, he saw nothing.
Melvin didn't feel it was a pity. He put away the Resurrection Stone and patted Yurm's head.
---
4:00 PM. The sky was already darkening.
Sunshine in the Scottish Highlands was worse than in London. In December, even on a clear day, there were only about seven hours of daylight. Hogwarts lit its torches and candles early. The Christmas decorations hadn't been taken down yet, still glittering gorgeously.
Usually, staying inside the castle, Harry and Ron didn't notice the darkness much. But if they had to go out, they'd worry about seeing the path.
"Checkmate..."
Watching Ron knock over his King, Harry yawned and scratched his warm head, not minding at all. Instead, he looked up toward the dormitory tower.
There weren't many people in the common room. Hermione had just returned from the library and gone up to the dormitory to tidy up.
Hermione came downstairs quickly, her footsteps thumping.
The young witch carried a scarf in red and gold colors. She didn't care that her hair was messy; her steps were light and brisk. Having given up the Time-Turner after talking to Professor McGonagall, she seemed to have shed a burden and was visibly livelier.
Harry actually felt a bit regretful; he wouldn't be able to reference Hermione's Divination homework anymore.
"Why are you two still playing chess?" Hermione came down the stairs and stood before them.
"Finished already. A total victory," Ron showed off triumphantly, knocking over the King piece that had just struggled to stand up again. The enraged King grabbed a nearby Knight's sword and stabbed viciously at Ron's finger.
"Ouch..." Ron cried out, clutching his finger.
Harry smiled more broadly. "Ready to go anytime."
"Then what are you sitting there for? Let's go, Hagrid is waiting for us!" Hermione tossed her hair and turned to leave.
Ron scratched his head and pulled Harry along.
Ever since Sirius was taken away, Harry had been downcast and absent-minded at chess. Ron had wanted to let him win a couple of games to cheer him up, but even when he practically fed his King to Harry, Harry didn't see it.
He could only respect his best friend's choice and tearfully win against him all day.
Letting the opposing King piece stab his finger to make Harry laugh was the last idea Ron could come up with. Unfortunately, the effect was mediocre. Now he could only pin his hopes on Hagrid.
They walked out of the castle without meeting anyone, only the occasional portrait or ghost. In the snow, the ruts from the prisoner carriage were still visible; since it hadn't snowed today, the tracks were just a bit shallower.
A cold wind blew, making Ron shiver and tighten his collar. "Why did Hagrid invite us to the Forbidden Forest for Boxing Day? Isn't the Great Hall fine? I heard tonight's feast is still going to be lavish."
"It was Professor Levent's suggestion." The young witch walked ahead, her scarf wrapped around her face, muffling her voice as it drifted away with her white breath.
"Why does Professor Levent want to spend Boxing Day in the Forbidden Forest?"
"If only your brain worked outside the chessboard."
"Don't think I can't hear you insulting me..." Ron muttered. "You're so smart, why don't you tell us!"
"Professor Levent inviting us students to celebrate Boxing Day separately naturally has a special reason. And it's in the Forbidden Forest outside the castle..."
Hermione trudged through the snow without looking back. "Remember what the Professor promised Harry? He said he'd let Harry see his parents again. Not an illusion, not a ghost, not a dream, but a genuine reunion."
"Professor Levent is going to perform magic in the Forbidden Forest!" Harry's eyes widened suddenly.
Originally slumped and walking listlessly, he suddenly looked like a different person, bursting with vitality. He strode forward, crunching loudly through the snow.
Ron was stunned and hurriedly trotted to catch up.
---
Hagrid's Hut.
At this very moment, Hagrid had dragged his expressionless colleague into the role of sous-chef. They had laid out all the ingredients neatly in advance and begun the tedious prep work.
Vegetables needed to be washed three times; radishes and pumpkins cut into appropriately sized chunks; lamb for stewing needed blanching; beef for roasting required marinating in advance; and the marinade sauce had to be mixed in precise proportions...
The Potions Master's professional skills were all put to use. Processing ingredients for cooking and processing ingredients for brewing potions were essentially no different.
Snape quickly grasped the knack of it. Waving his wand, he directed vegetables to jump into the clean water for a bath while slicing steaks with invisible blades.
Mastering one skill opened the door to others. He worked quickly and methodically, displaying the professional quality of a Potions Master.
Hagrid hummed an off-key tune and chuckled.
Compared to waiting at the High Table for food to appear, preparing the ingredients yourself, cooking and stewing, and then watching others eat it gave him a unique sense of accomplishment. This was why he kept a vegetable patch and grew his own food.
Previously, Flitwick and Sprout would occasionally visit. Dumbledore would stop here on his way deep into the Forbidden Forest to visit the Centaur elders. Melvin had brought a hungover Hagrid back to the hut and made dog food for Fang here. Only Snape had never been on the visitor list.
At the garden gate, three young wizards peeked in, observing secretly.
---
Nightfall. The bonfire was lit.
An invisible bubble kept out the cold wind without blocking the airflow. Two cauldrons bubbled with meat stew—one beef, one lamb—sending out a tantalizing aroma. Marinated vegetables and steaks were skewered on roasting forks, ready for self-service grilling.
Three young wizards and three professors sat around the bonfire, eating everything they could spear with a fork: bread, mushrooms, pumpkin...
An open-air Boxing Day feast in the snowy night. Everything was wonderful.
If there was a downside, it was probably that no one was talking, and the atmosphere was a bit stiff.
Slurp, slurp!
Crunch, crunch!
Hagrid held a porcelain bowl and gripped a roasting fork, not lifting his head, his mouth too busy to speak.
The marinade and sauce, finely blended by the Potions Master in precise proportions, tasted a hundred times better than his own cooking. Whatever Melvin wanted to do had nothing to do with him; filling his belly came first.
The three students were a bit reserved, eating slowly. Their bellies were full of questions, but with Snape sitting there like a statue, expressionless, they couldn't bring themselves to ask anything.
Melvin placed the marinated beef into the fire, watching the fat render and drip onto the red-hot charcoal with a sizzling sound. The color and aroma became increasingly enticing. Paired with tender green vegetable leaves, it had a unique flavor.
"Have you heard the story of The Tale of the Three Brothers and Death from The Tales of Beedle the Bard?"
"Heard it! Heard it lots of times!" Ron raised his hand eagerly.
Melvin sipped his meat soup and glanced sideways at him. "Even if you've heard it, I'm going to start from the beginning. In the story of the Deathly Hallows, the three Peverell brothers crossed a river by conjuring a bridge, cheating Death, and received Death's rewards..."
Hagrid slurped down half a cauldron of stew, smacked his lips, and wanted to continue eating, but his stomach was full of liquid with no room left. He looked at Harry and the others, who were listening intently to the story.
He shifted his bottom, deciding to rest and listen to the story until his stomach made some room to eat more.
Snape remained expressionless, the food in front of him untouched.
---