Since that Christmas lunch, Ron hadn't seen his pet rat, Scabbers, again. He'd assumed Scabbers had simply been startled and fled in a panic, expecting to find him quietly sleeping on his bed or desk upon returning to the dorm.
But things didn't go as he wished. He couldn't find his pet anywhere. He searched almost the entire castle during the holiday but found nothing. Despite his frustration, Ron had to accept the reality. Hermione's Crookshanks was kept securely confined, and although he loathed that cat, it was definitely not involved this time.
Harry comforted him, saying, "Maybe he couldn't bear to let his owner witness his death. How many years has he been with your family?" Harry asked.
"It must have been over ten years," Ron replied absentmindedly, still somewhat dejected even though he was gradually accepting the situation.
"I find it hard to imagine a rat living that long," Hermione said in surprise. Now that the catalyst was gone, her relationship with Ron was improving. "Harry's right, maybe he just didn't want you to be sad, so he disappeared on his own accord," she continued.
"Maybe," Ron said, staring at the fireplace, watching the flames on the coal rise and then die down, lost in thought.
"Crookshanks hasn't been himself lately either," Hermione said worriedly, gently stroking Crookshanks' smooth, ginger fur. The cat responded to her touch with a lazy purr.
"Then you should take him to Madam Pomfrey to get him checked out," Ron said with concern. With the root cause resolved, he no longer held any prejudice against the cat. He even felt sympathetic, hoping nothing would happen to Hermione's cat. He now understood what it felt like to lose a pet.
"Okay," Hermione nodded slightly. Ever since she returned from Hogsmeade that time, Crookshanks hadn't been quite right. Sometimes he would anxiously scan his surroundings as if looking for something, with an unreadable emotion in his eyes. Hermione thought it was loneliness, but she quickly dismissed the idea.
A cat shouldn't have such complex emotions, right?
"We should go," Hermione said, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was time for dinner.
Today was the last day of the holiday, and all the students were returning to school to begin a new semester. The tables in the Great Hall were laden with a lavish dinner: potatoes, beef, lamb, onion cheese, and more, enough to satisfy everyone's appetite.
Unexpectedly,
when they entered the Great Hall, they noticed that the Slytherin table was missing many students.
The Christmas trees around the students, still decorated with gifts, retained a faint festive atmosphere. They were surprised to see several more chairs added next to the golden high-backed chair exclusive to Dumbledore.
They guessed that Dumbledore might have something to announce today.
Just as the students were mostly seated, the doors suddenly opened, letting in gusts of cold wind that made many students pull their collars tighter.
Malfoy, Pansy, and the remaining Slytherin Quidditch team players filed in, even wearing their Quidditch training uniforms.
"Professor, I'm sorry, the snow outside is too heavy, and we had some unexpected issues on our way back, so we're a bit late," Malfoy said, brushing the snow off his shoulders slightly as he walked to Dumbledore and explained on behalf of the group.
Dumbledore was wearing a magnificent deep purple robe embroidered with stars of varying sizes and intricate patterns.
He didn't reprimand them, simply responding with a smile, "Not late, just in time for dinner." Then he gestured for them to quickly return to their seats.
"I trust everyone had a pleasant holiday. I have nothing to say before dinner, so let's begin," Dumbledore's voice was deep and resonant, echoing throughout the Great Hall.
The students had excellent appetites, happily taking their favorite foods from the table, chatting and sharing stories of their holiday experiences.
The Slytherin Quidditch players, however, were silent, quietly eating the food in front of them, but their eyes shone with a frightening intensity, filled with absolute confidence.
"They don't actually think special training will guarantee a win, do they?" Ron said with a dismissive tone as he grabbed a lamb chop.
"Harry, your training intensity isn't lower than theirs, right?" Ron nudged Harry with his elbow.
"Of course," Harry nodded, adjusting his glasses.
"Besides, you still have…" Ron paused; it was a secret.
The fact that Harry received a Firebolt was still a secret, and they planned to use it as a trump card against Ravenclaw. If the information were known in advance, they might be targeted ahead of time.
There was also a small interlude. Hermione, still worried the day Harry received the Firebolt, told Professor McGonagall about it. Their lunch had just ended, and Professor Flitwick was also present. They decided to take the broom apart and thoroughly inspect it inside and out to avoid any harmful curses.
Frankly, in Harry and Ron's eyes, doing such a thing to a brand-new flying broom was simply "unforgivable," too cruel.
But they had to accept it. Harry knew in his heart that Professor McGonagall, though she didn't say it, secretly hoped Gryffindor would win the Quidditch Cup, but she still made that choice, which showed that she valued Harry's safety more. He couldn't complain.
"Let me take a look, Minerva?" Just as they were about to despair, Dumbledore happened to appear behind them, still with his kind smile.
Dumbledore gently took the Firebolt and simply waved his wand over it. Blinding white light emanated from the Firebolt, with fleeting transparent smoke swirling around it, then quickly returning to calm, as if nothing had happened.
"No problem," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard.
"Perfect!" Harry and Ron exchanged glances, then high-fived in celebration, looking very excited. This meant the Firebolt wouldn't have to be taken apart.
Dumbledore was amused to see them so happy.
Back to the present, just as all the students had eaten their fill, the food on the plates began to disappear, and then the plates also began to disappear, until the four long tables were empty again.
"I'm sorry, I have to take up everyone's time again tonight," Dumbledore said, stepping to the front and adjusting his half-moon spectacles.
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