Chapter 235
Heavy snow blanketed the castle and its grounds.
The Beauxbatons carriage stood like a frosted pumpkin in the winter landscape, while the small gingerbread-like hut beside it was Rubeus Hagrid's wooden house. The Durmstrang ship lay frozen at the lake's edge, its hull glazed with ice, sails stiff with frost.
In the kitchens, house-elves bustled about, preparing steaming stews and rich puddings.
Christmas had arrived.
And with it—the Yule Ball.
---
"Here's the goods, mate!"
The Fred Weasley and George Weasley dragged a large, battered box toward Draco Malfoy.
"Should work perfectly," Fred said, patting it.
George frowned. "Still don't get why you need so many Invisibility Cloaks. Even for the Tournament, one should be enough."
"And the masks you wanted—made two. Consider them a gift. Though they'll probably look terrible on you."
"Meow—"
A sharp sound cut through the corridor.
Both twins froze.
A scrawny grey cat clung to the staircase railing, its bulging eyes fixed on them.
"Mrs. Norris," Fred whispered urgently.
"That means Argus Filch is nearby. Run."
"Your problem now!" George added, already retreating.
---
Moments later, Filch appeared.
"What's in the box?" he demanded.
"Clothes," Malfoy replied calmly, moving to open it.
Filch raised a hand to stop him.
"…Just this once," he muttered. "Stay away from those two troublemakers."
"Yes, sir."
---
Soon, the box sat in Malfoy's bedroom.
His desk was piled high with Christmas gifts, most delivered that morning by owl. Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy had already given theirs in advance.
"Don't open them early," Narcissa had reminded him before leaving, as if he were still a child.
Among them was a finely made black tie from Pansy Parkinson.
Malfoy changed into the black velvet, high-collared formal robes Narcissa had prepared. They fit perfectly.
She had sent him a new set every year.
This was the first time he would actually use one.
---
He glanced at himself in the mirror.
Then thought of Luna's outfit.
A faint pause.
That would cause a scene.
---
Later, as he crossed the grounds, he spotted Pansy leaning against a railing, watching others play in the snow.
"If you want your leg to heal properly," Malfoy said, "stop thinking about joining them."
"Oh…"
She wore a thick purple sweater, her silver ribbon drooping as lifelessly as her mood.
"But," Malfoy added, snapping his fingers, "you can try something else."
He raised his wand.
The air grew colder.
Moisture condensed—
Three snowballs formed, floating midair.
With a flick—
They shot forward in rapid succession, striking a distant tree with perfect accuracy.
Snow shook loose. An owl burst from the branches and flew off.
"Precision matters more than power," Malfoy said. "Good for control."
He glanced at her boots.
"How's the device working? Warm enough?"
A small pale-gold button was embedded at the tip—his creation, radiating heat.
"It's warm," Pansy nodded.
She tried to imitate him.
Failed.
Tried again.
Failed again.
"Vasidisi!"
Finally—
Two snowballs formed.
They launched forward—
—hitting two unsuspecting students, one from Slytherin, one from Gryffindor.
A pause.
Then—
Chaos.
A full-scale snowball fight erupted.
Pansy froze.
Then slowly turned away.
"…I should leave."
She quietly retreated from the scene, step by step, heading back toward the Slytherin common room.
Behind her, the noise escalated.
Ahead—
Only the warmth of the fireplace awaited.