In England, on December 25, 1995, the temperature plummeted.
Snowflakes, like torn pieces of cotton, silently covered Privet Drive in Surrey.
The houses neatly lined up on both sides of the street wore white snow caps, and the bushes in the gardens turned into fluffy snow piles. The usually slightly rigid and dull neighborhood, dotted with plenty of Christmas decorations, rarely showed a touch of fairy-tale tranquility.
The dim yellow glow of the streetlights diffused in the white snow, illuminating the footprints winding to each doorstep.
Number 4, Privet Drive—the house opposite—was brightly lit. Unlike the neatly oppressive holiday decoration of the surrounding neighbors, the windows here were adorned with neat, joyful frost patterns, and wreaths woven from holly and mistletoe hung on the porch. The faint sounds of laughter brought a warmth that seemed to resist the cold outside.
Inside, the flames in the fireplace crackled as they roasted the logs, dispelling the chill in the room.
The air was filled with the enticing aroma of roasted chestnuts, hot chocolate, and roast chicken, mixed with a slight hint of burnt smell. William took off his heavy robe, wearing only a dark brown sweater, lazily sinking into the softest couch in the living room. On his lap nestled a small cheetah that had grown half as tall over the past year—
Sirius and Lupin sat on the armchairs opposite him, the former wearing a slightly old but comfortable leather jacket with unruly hair, the latter in a sweater, his face bearing his usual gentle smile. But then, the man who was chatting with Sirius suddenly twitched his nose—
The next moment, like being sprung up by a spring, Lupin shouted, "My roast chicken!" and dashed into the kitchen.
Harry and Tom were sitting on the carpet in front of the TV, with a board of fiercely battling Wizard Chess between them, while the ghost of Regulus Black floated quietly beside them, silently watching another game between the "famous Savior" and the "former Dark Lord."
"So."
William petted the chin of a custard-colored cat, which purred lazily. He turned his gaze to Tom, who was maneuvering the queen to corner the Savior, "You've been at Hogwarts for a semester now, how does it feel? Keeping up with the coursework?" He suddenly remembered that he probably counted as the "Dark Lord's" guardian now.
Tom put down the piece and wiped cookie crumbs off his fingers with a napkin, his movements possessing a maturity beyond his age.
He looked up, his black eyes flickering with orange firelight, "The courses aren't hard, sir, except... um, Magic History is a bit dull."
"Indeed!"
Beside him, Sirius spoke in a "deeply sympathetic" voice, "It's not just ordinary dullness. I often wondered, even if Professor Binns had a joke book instead of a textbook, he'd still make it sound sleepy... There must be some charm in that classroom!"
He seemed intrigued, sitting up from the couch, "So, is there anything fun happening at school? Like... wandering at night?"
"He does wander at night often—"
At this point, Lupin emerged from the kitchen, judging by his expression, the chicken situation was probably not too severe, "I've caught him around the library more than once during patrols—along with Mr. Regulus, at a frequency of about twice a week—"
"That's quite low, only night wandering twice. When we were in school..."
"Because I only do patrols two days a week."
"..."
Sirius was speechless, suddenly feeling like, compared to the "Dark Lord," he really was a rookie in terms of breaking school rules—
Lupin shook his head, changing the topic, "By the way, Sirius, is there any progress on your side regarding the stolen items from the Black Mansion?"
At this, the bit of ease on Sirius's face disappeared instantly. He frustratingly ruffled his already messy hair, "No, not a single clue. That old thing who always likes to make sarcastic comments said—his portrait got stuffed into some dark corner, surrounded by clutter, with poor lighting and not even a window."
Sighing, the man said, "The clues stopped there. Those damn thieves—now we probably just have to wait for someone to buy that old man's painting—though who would go out of their way to buy a frame with a blank sheet inside?"
The living room quieted down again, and after a while, Harry, who had been quietly listening to their conversation (actually focused on chess), couldn't help but for the fifteenth time turn a curious gaze towards Regulus beside him. He hesitated a bit but couldn't resist asking—
"Um... Mr. Black, I have a question. If I remember correctly, ghosts usually can only remain in places they're familiar with while alive, right? Like Hogwarts ghosts can't leave the castle, so why... are you here? You shouldn't have come to Privet Drive while alive, right?"
His question also drew the attention of the others nearby, except William, whose faces all had curious expressions.
Regulus's ghost flickered slightly, his silvery-white face turning to Harry, his voice carrying the ghostly echo, "Yes, Mr. Potter, you're right, that's usually the case."
After speaking, his gaze seemed to penetrate Harry, falling into the void.
"..."
"...So?"
Sirius ruffled his hair in frustration, obviously detesting Regulus's habit of only speaking halfway.
"Because my existence... is rather special. I'm not a naturally formed ghost, but rather forcibly pulled from the seams of the Illusory Realm by Mr. William using a... uh, unconventional method. Moreover, my soul wasn't entirely independent upon returning; part of it... still entangled with that item." His gaze turned to William.
"Ahem."
William picked up the conversation, reaching into the air with his right hand to produce a rusted Pendant Box, "It's this. Regulus's death is closely related to it, his strong obsession and resentment lingered on it for a long time. So, when I 'fished' him back, this connection wasn't completely severed."
"Meaning, as long as it's within this pendant box's vicinity, it's all my..."
Before Regulus could finish, a green flame surged in the living room fireplace. As the flame's color reverted, two white-bearded old men stepped through, followed by almost half of Hogwarts' teaching staff.
"There were no students staying at Hogwarts this year, so I simply gave the little elves a holiday—"
Dumbledore explained to the confused Sirius why he came here, and Lupin apparently knew about this well in advance—of course, since he was in charge of cooking. If William hadn't notified him beforehand, letting Dumbledore bring over so many people— their Christmas feast would probably consist of snow.
On the couch, watching the scene before him, William's smile grew more pronounced—
It seems now that the Christmas gift for the Celestial Empress is about to be delivered.