Chapter 19: Stupid exploration

“You know, if you keep spoiling me like that, I’m never going to leave you alone.”

Rick was strolling through the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade beside Amelia, the crisp winter air nipping at their cheeks as snowflakes danced lazily around them. She had casually handed him one of her licorice wands, a nostalgic gesture from last year's holiday break, and he was now absently sucking on it, his expression one of quiet contentment. The sugary treat left a faint sheen on his lips, and he couldn’t help but smile, the simple sweetness mingling with the warmth of her familiar company.

“Someone has to do something nice for you at this time of the year since you forgot, again, to buy something for yourself.”

“Parents ought to but I've never had those so, no? As for myself, well… I already have all that I want and can get. A sweet like this one is just… a bonus I suppose.”

“And what is it that you already have?”

“Friends. Somewhere I belong. The real things that matter.”

“If I didn’t see you jump head first into… I’d think you were secretly a Hufflepuff.”

Rick chuckled at that, knowing full well it wasn’t true in the least. Loyalty? Sure, but only to a trusted few. Studious? Hardly. His homework was always finished quickly, just enough to scrape an Outstanding never a flick more effort than necessary. Bury himself in textbooks outside exam season? Not a chance. Rick preferred learning on his own terms: tangents that piqued his interest, magical theory that challenged him, or obscure enchantments to experiment with in secret. He wasn’t lazy just terminally allergic to academic conformity.

He had finished his Christmas shopping, and with Amelia were making their way back to the castle. Despite the festive mood and crisp winter air, Rick was deeply, almost absurdly bored. It wasn’t for lack of things to do he was devouring books from the library at an alarming pace but rather the gnawing impatience that came with knowing there was still one unopened secret tied to Slytherin lurking beneath Hogwarts. That knowledge eclipsed everything else. For the past two days, he had been anxiously awaiting a summons from Dumbledore to investigate the final hidden door.

To distract himself, Rick decided to do what any perfectly normal, academically questionable Gryffindor would do: sneak into the Ravenclaw common room and map it out at night. He had rejected the obvious options asking Flitwick for help or enlisting one of the few Ravenclaws still staying at the castle because that would’ve been far too sensible. Instead, he tackled the entrance riddle himself (which took longer than he’d admit) and avoided ghosts with the reflexes of a startled Niffler.

Once inside, he was disappointed to discover the Ravenclaws had no hidden nooks or forgotten chambers not even a secret stash of enchanted parchment. Unlike Gryffindor Tower, which boasted a hidden storage room behind a centuries-old faux clock, the only mildly intriguing thing was the breathtaking view from the upper patio. Even that was deflated by the fact that the door was secured with nothing more complex than a basic unlocking charm. For someone used to tracking arcane traps and bypassing magical locks, it felt like solving a crossword puzzle only to find someone had already penciled in half the answers.

“Ugh. The scenery is nice but it’s not worth the walk. I wish we could use our broom to travel from the castle to the village.”

“We can, actually.” Amelia’s answer froze Rick on the spot while she kept walking.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“Nope.”

“Then why didn’t you say so?!” he said in outrage as he caught up to the redhead. The shrug her shoulders did, upset him even more. “I’m never walking to Hogsmeade ever again!”  he declared, making Amelia shake her head amusedly at his stupidity.

They trudged up the snowy path until the towering silhouette of Hogwarts loomed into view, the castle gates creaking open to welcome them back. Parting briefly, they ducked into their respective common rooms to stash away their purchases Rick juggling bags of sweets and Amelia carrying her neatly wrapped packages with practiced grace.

When they reconvened in the Great Hall, the vast chamber felt eerily empty, the enchanted ceiling casting a pale winter sky above them. The absence of other students, likely still indulging in the comforts of Hogsmeade's eateries, lent the moment a quiet serenity. It was in this tranquil lull that Dumbledore, with his usual twinkle of curiosity, approached them, his steps light but purposeful.

“Miss Bones, Mister Wald. How are you doing? Did you have a good time in Hogsmeade?”

“Hello, sir. We certainly did.” Amelia greeted politely.

“We even encountered a doppleganger of yours in Hogshead inn.”

“Ah! That would be my younger brother Aberforth.”

“Oh.” exclaimed Rick in shock and panic, his eyes widening as his mind reeled at the realization, while Amelia clutched her sides and began to laugh with unabashed delight, clearly enjoying the absurdity of the situation.

“Hm?”

“Rick thought it was someone polyjuiced as you so he-”

“Amy!”

Rick tried to make Amelia stop talking by putting his hand on her mouth, but she grabbed his wrist with surprising strength and went on unfazed, her eyes gleaming with amusement and determination. Her voice didn’t falter for a second, as if his attempt to silence her was nothing more than a playful gesture she had already anticipated.

“-Dyed your brother bright pink from head to toe and called him an impostor before rushing out.” the Hufflepuff finished, making the Headmaster snort.

“Oh, I would have loved to see that. Worry not Mister Wald, you’re not in trouble. Well, not with me at least. With my brother… probably.” Dumbledore sounded more amused than anything.

“Ugh. I guess, I’ll write him an apology letter.”

“That’s a good idea. In any case, I was wondering if you were interested in showing me and my colleagues the door you found the other day?”

“Of course, sir!”

Amelia rolled her eyes at Rick’s enthusiastic answer. Once again she saw the stars in his eyes at the prospect of exploring and discovering Hogwarts secrets. The sparkle was almost endearing if she weren’t still slightly traumatized from their last escapade that nearly ended in basilisk-induced trauma.

Rick, for all his cleverness, had the impulse control of a Niffler in a gold shop when it came to unraveling Hogwarts' mysteries. Lunch was still an hour away, which left just enough time for her to sigh in resigned agreement. It was settled they’d venture back down in the afternoon, insanity and serpentine surprises be damned.

Rick spent his time reading on fourth-year Potions and then diving headlong into fourth-year Charms. One particular spell piqued his interest more than the others Accio.

The idea of summoning any object simply by naming it felt like a dream come true, and he couldn’t resist the urge to practice it right then and there. He placed his hefty Potions book several feet away and, with a determined swish of his wand and a concentrated shout of “Accio!”, summoned the tome toward him.

It worked far more effectively than he had anticipated. The thick book soared through the air and collided with his face like a Bludger out for revenge. The impact knocked him clean off his feet, sending him sprawling backward onto the stone floor in an unceremonious heap.

Amelia, who had been watching nearby, instantly burst into uncontrollable laughter. Her usual composed demeanor shattered as she doubled over, clutching her sides and letting out peals of laughter louder than Rick had ever heard from her. Tears streamed from her eyes as she gasped for breath between fits of giggles.

To make matters worse or perhaps more entertaining Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick chose that exact moment to stroll past on their way to the teacher’s table. Their eyes fell on the crumpled Rick and the wheezing Amelia, and though both professors did their best to maintain professional expressions, their lips twitched with barely contained amusement.

“Five points to Gryffindor for using a way above your year spell.”

“Filius, that wasn’t quite a success.”

“That’s why I only gave five points and not ten, Minerva.”

Both were badly hiding their amusement, though their smirks and poorly suppressed chuckles betrayed them. Amelia, meanwhile, was completely lost to laughter she had doubled over, pounding the table with her fist, gasping for air like she’d just run a marathon, her face red and eyes streaming with tears. Every time she tried to calm down, another image of Rick being walloped by the airborne book would flash through her mind, and she’d dissolve into hysterics all over again.

“Ngh… Five points for entertainment?” Rick muttered groggily as he pushed himself up from the floor, rubbing his forehead with one hand and clutching the offending Potions book in the other. His face still stung, and his ego was significantly more bruised than his nose.

“Why not?” the charm Professor considered. “Five more points to Gryffindor for entertainment.”

Amelia fell to the ground, laughing even harder at that, clutching her sides as her laughter reached an almost uncontrollable pitch. Rick’s sarcastic remark had, quite spectacularly, backfired and the look of betrayal and disbelief on his face only made the entire scene more hilarious.

“Mer.. Lin. Can’t.. Brea… Hurt… Help.” she tried to say between laughs while she was holding her stomach.

Rick pointed his wand at her and said, “Petrificus Totalus.”

Amelia barely had time to register the words before her body stiffened like a board. Her limbs snapped straight, and she toppled backward in a hilarious slow-motion fall, eyes still brimming with the tears of laughter she hadn’t finished shedding. The laughter, however, stopped cold. She was frozen mid-chortle, an unmoving monument to Rick’s petty revenge.

“Mister Wald!” Minerva snapped, her voice laced with sharp reprimand and just a touch of exasperated disbelief. Her eyes narrowed beneath her spectacles, lips thinned into a disapproving line as she took in the sight of Rick standing proudly beside a still-stiff Amelia.

“Better than a stinging hex, Professor! She’s not hurt and she stopped laughing. I should get five points for being clever about the way I went about to help my fellow student!”

The unimpressed stare he got didn’t make him flinch one bit; if anything, it seemed to amuse him. As their intense staring contest continued like two dueling cats in a sunbeam, Professor Flitwick, with a twitch of his wand and a muttered counterspell, mercifully released Amelia from her spellbound paralysis. She regained control of her limbs and immediately directed a heated glare at Rick, her eyes practically promising future retaliation. The look she gave him could have turned pumpkin juice to vinegar on the spot.

“There will be payback.” she declared.

“Not very Hufflepuff like.”

“Hufflepuff may be all about loyalty and hard work but they also gather the traits of every House. We’re the most diverse House in the school, remember?”

Rick gulped. He had forgotten about that and judging by the fiery glint in Amelia’s eyes and the confident way she was twirling her wand between her fingers, she hadn’t. Rick was no fool. He had seen Amelia duel before, and the idea of ending up as the unwilling recipient of one of her well-aimed jinxes was enough to send a chill down his spine. Not wanting to tempt fate, he flashed a sheepish smile and rapidly scrambled for a solution that wouldn’t involve getting hexed into next week.

“Would a conciliatory hug do?”

“...”

“Two? Three?”

“...”

“How about we settle that on the pitch?”

“Fine. By. Me.”

Her declaration of war done, Amelia let out a long sigh and finally allowed herself to enjoy the peace of the meal, even if Rick’s barely contained excitement nearly cost him a face full of mashed potatoes. He was squirming like a kneazle on a sugar high, and she had to resist the urge to hex him into stillness at least three times.

Lunch itself passed without incident an island of calm before the inevitable storm. When the hour arrived, Rick practically bounced in place as they stood to leave, nearly tripping over his own feet in his eagerness. Together, they guided the Professors down into the lower dungeons, through torch-lit corridors that echoed with ancient whispers.

Once more, they lit the braziers this time with purposeful ceremony revealing the hidden passage as if unveiling a stage. The flickering light danced across stone walls as they stepped inside, leading the group forward. At the end of the path, they presented the ancient mural and the strange, locked door with something close to reverence.

“Another lock made in parsel-magic.” Dumbledore commented.

Just before Dumbledore could hiss the password, Rick stepped forward and gave a sharp, precise hiss of his own. The stone groaned and the door slowly creaked open in response. Everyone froze, eyes snapping toward the dirty blonde in stunned silence, their gazes ranging from confused to mildly alarmed. Even the ever-calm Dumbledore arched an eyebrow.

"What in Merlin’s name—" McGonagall began, but stopped short as Rick turned to face them with a sheepish shrug.

"I wanted to see if I could do it," he explained innocently, the hint of pride in his tone doing little to conceal the mischief in his eyes.

“And you did it after hearing the Headmaster only twice.” Amelia said in a tone which clearly showed she was already done with his shit.

“Well, yeah. It’s not that complicated to mimic.”

“I have to say, that was very well done. A bit of an accent perhaps but it worked.” the Headmaster praised.

They arrived inside another locked room, no bigger than the one they left, but this time a see-through steel gate barred their way. Two distinct symbols one shaped like a fang, the other like a coiled serpent were etched into its surface, glowing faintly with residual magic.

On the right side of the chamber, nestled within a narrow alcove carved into the stone wall, rested a snake statue, its obsidian eyes fixed forward with an unsettling stillness. Tucked next to it, half-curled and brittle with age, was a faded parchment bearing a wax seal long eroded by time. Rick carefully peeled it free from the niche and, with a curious glance at the others, began to read it aloud.

“I failed the dial, and it struck my face as if it were a real serpent. But I must find a way forward for my family's sake.

We should not require children to conform to old traditions. This scriptorium must have proof that there's more to our legacy than meets the eye.

Noctua Gaunt”

Once done, he handed the note to Dumbledore.

“The Gaunts were really the descendants of Salazar Slytherin.” Amelia commented to herself.

“They were.” replied Albus.

“A shame the legacy of a founder is officially gone.”

“They’re not. While the House of Gaunt is officially extinct, Slytherin still has descendants in America. Isolt Sayre, the founder of Ilvermorny, was born a Gaunt and had two daughters. One refused to have children and to perpetuate her ancestor’s legacy, judging it vile, the other was a squib. I believe to this day her line still exists.” Dumbledore revealed.

“Maybe it’s a good thing Salazar is dead, he would have keeled over had he learned about this.” Rick commented.

“Killed over more like. Salazar Slytherin, from what we know about him, wouldn't have tolerated a squib in his family and would have drastically dealt with them.”

Rick touched the statue with his hand and immediately felt the distinct thrum of active magic coursing through it a warning embedded in its enchantment. His magical sensitivity confirmed what he suspected: if the wrong combination were entered on the dial beneath the statue, the snake would spring to life and attack, not as a statue but as a magically animated guardian.

Carefully analyzing the carvings and inscriptions, Rick quickly deduced that the answer to the puzzle was cleverly encoded on the gate itself, a sequence of serpent runes forming a cryptic but decipherable clue. With the correct solution entered, the snake statue receded into its pedestal with a mechanical hiss, and the passage opened.

Beyond lay a small maze, dimly lit and brimming with age-old secrets. Rick dove into it with barely restrained excitement, eagerly investigating every twist and turn, every alcove, torch sconce, and suspicious-looking floor tile. Amelia, following more cautiously, occasionally rolled her eyes at his enthusiasm but couldn’t help smiling at his childlike glee. Together, they lit ancient torches that revealed hidden inscriptions, unlocked dial-operated gates, and triggered subtle enchantments that had lain dormant for centuries.

Eventually, after navigating a particularly narrow section that led through a corridor of reflective mirrors and enchanted fog, they reached a narrow stone hallway about twenty feet long. As soon as they both stepped inside, the stone door behind them slammed shut with a thunderous echo, the magic sealing them in. No amount of spells or brute force would budge the door. They were trapped.

"Gryffindor forward?" Rick quipped with a grin, earning a chuckle from Dumbledore despite the tension in the air.

They advanced cautiously, their footsteps echoing against the cold stone floor until they came to a halt several feet from a ghastly sight. Before them loomed an atrocious door, carved in haunting detail with dozens of tormented faces, each one frozen in an expression of pure agony, as if screaming in eternal silence. The twisted artistry was enough to send a chill down even the bravest spine. Lying at the base of the door was a skeletal figure, its bony limbs sprawled unnaturally across the floor, as though it had collapsed mid-crawl. Clutched in its outstretched hand was a brittle, yellowed parchment another note, half-curled and barely legible in the dim torchlight.

“The magic is not as powerful as the one I felt in the Chamber but it’s way more vile,” he commented.

“I've lost hope. I'm locked in. I heard a scream and saw the tortured faces. The only way forward is with an Unforgivable Curse. Even if I wanted to cast it, I have no one upon whom to do so. Salazar Slytherin created a malicious challenge indeed.

In my last correspondence to my brother, I'd invited him here. Now, if he looks for me alone, I'll have led him to his death. Despite our differences, I wish him no ill. I wish we had parted on better terms.

Noctua Gaunt”

Rick read aloud after summoning the note with a precise flick of his wand. The parchment trembled faintly as it hovered into his hand, the aged ink glinting under the flickering torchlight. Once finished, he silently handed it over to Dumbledore, who took it with a furrowed brow and a contemplative frown deepening on his face as he read its contents.

Minerva and Fillius exchanged tense glances, the weight of the revelation settling like a curse upon the group. There was no mistaking which Unforgivable Curse the note referred to its implication was practically carved into the grotesque visages of the door itself. A grim silence fell over them. The idea of casting such a spell was abhorrent, unthinkable and yet, a silent consensus passed through the adults present: no student, under any circumstances, would be the one to bear that burden.

“Crucio! AAAAAAARRRRGHHH!”

Everyone instantly turned around to see Rick writhing on the ground, his wand directed at himself, his entire body convulsing in agony as if struck by an invisible whip of fire. His face twisted in pain, a silent scream trapped behind clenched teeth, while tremors ran down his limbs in violent waves. The unnatural tension in his frame, the way his muscles seized there was no mistaking it: he had cast the Cruciatus Curse on himself.

“Mister Wald!” / “Rick!”

Both Minerva and Amelia rushed to the dirty blonde, their faces etched with alarm and urgency. Though neither had the faintest idea how to alleviate the pain from an Unforgivable Curse, their instincts drove them forward, compelled by the sheer recklessness and bravery Rick had shown. Minerva’s hands hovered uncertainly, her usually unshakable composure fraying at the edges, while Amelia knelt beside him, gently propping him up with trembling hands and murmuring his name as if the sound alone could ground him.

“That was utterly stupid!” McGonagall chastised him while making sure he was alright. The worry and terror in her voice couldn’t be missed however. “How do you even know the incantation of the Cruciatus curse!”

“Marked on… the floor.” he said with bated breath as Amelia raised him into a sitting position. “Cruciatus, crucio…. Doesn’t take… a genius to…” he added and stopped his sentence there. There was no need to explain further and he focused instead on catching his breath.

Filius and Dumbledore both lowered their heads, eyes scanning the ancient stone floor with sudden intent. Dumbledore subtly shifted his right foot, revealing a crimson-carved inscription etched into the stone beneath him. The elegantly drawn runes formed a single word: ‘Crucio’ glowing faintly as though acknowledging its invocation. Dumbledore's lips pursed, his eyes narrowing as he absorbed the implication. Rick hadn’t guessed the incantation he had read it. The truth, literally, had been right under their feet.

“You shouldn’t have-”

“Of course I should have. It was the best option, Professor. We don’t know what danger awaits beyond the door so you, Professor Flitwick and Professor Dumbledore should not have been the one hit by the curse so you could be ready to act and I’m the greenest and most useless in the group in case of a fight. Also, better me than Amelia. Finally, this way no one broke the law. It’s only illegal to use an Unforgivable on someone else.”

“Because no one in their right mind would use it on themselves!” his Head of House replied, shaking her head at his clever stupidity.

Amelia, watching Rick struggle through the aftermath of his self-inflicted curse, felt a powerful mixture of awe and affection. It wasn’t just the pain he endured, but the fact that he had chosen to do so for her sake, without hesitation. Her chest tightened with the kind of gratitude that rooted itself deep.

At the same time, Minerva McGonagall stood silently behind them, arms crossed and face unreadable save for the unmistakable glint of pride in her eyes. Rick might have been reckless, impulsive, and maddeningly Gryffindor, but he was also undeniably brave. And in that moment, Minerva knew she had never been prouder of her favorite lion.

“A shame that Miss Gaunt didn’t think of using it on herself.” Rick said with finality, before standing up with difficulty helped by the two ladies in the group. “Now If you don’t mind, Gryff-”

“If you say 'Gryffindor Forward', I’m stunning you.” Amelia threatened, making him clamp up.

“And I won’t take points for it.” Minerva commented with a frown.

Dumbledore couldn’t help himself and chuckled, a warm, quiet laugh escaping as he watched the heartwarming and ridiculous scene unfold before him Amelia threatening Rick with a stun while he stood there, battered and bruised, but still smug.

There was a certain chaotic charm to it all, a blend of mischief and genuine affection that seemed to follow Rick wherever he went. The Headmaster realized he had been doing that a lot lately laughing, smiling, feeling lighter whenever Rick was involved. There was something about the boy’s relentless curiosity and absurd bravery that made even the darkest mysteries of Hogwarts feel a little brighter.

“You don't have to worry about that. The door is open and it seems to be the end of our journey.”

Everyone peered past the entrance in the hollow wall and found themselves gazing into a long-abandoned study. As they stepped inside, Amelia still supporting a pale and visibly weakened Rick, the musty air hit them like a physical force. The room was dimly lit by enchanted sconces that sputtered to life as they entered, casting flickering shadows over rows upon rows of dust-covered shelves.

Every surface was crammed with parchment scrolls and ancient tomes, their spines faded and crumbling from age. Glass jars filled with potion ingredients some of which had congealed into unidentifiable sludge lined the stone walls, their labels long worn away. A faint, acrid scent of rotten herbs and decayed alchemical compounds hung in the air. Despite the decay, the space radiated a potent aura of forgotten knowledge and dormant power, as if Salazar Slytherin’s ambitions still lingered in the stone itself.

“Do not touch anything.” warned Minerva, giving Rick a meaningful glance.

“Believe me, professor, after the Basilisk and that door I don’t want to know what Salazar has stored here.”

“Good.”

That didn’t mean he didn’t look around. Up the upper level, he spotted Dumbledore, completely engrossed in a thick, ancient leather tome resting on a pedestal. The Headmaster's intense focus and the glowing runes surrounding the book told Rick it was something far beyond an ordinary textbook probably laced with protective enchantments or brimming with arcane knowledge too volatile for casual perusal.

Wisely, Rick chose not to approach. Instead, his attention was caught by a stone sarcophagus nearby, nestled against the far wall like a sleeping secret. As he drew near, a low rumble emanated from it, and the lid creaked open with surprising ease. Alarmed but intrigued, Rick instinctively pulled out his enchanted map and scanned it. Realizing where they were and suspecting what he had uncovered, he glanced at Amelia, then quickly called out to Dumbledore.

“Sir. I think I found the exit.”

The man was quickly joined by his colleagues when he approached Rick and Amelia.

“We’re here and this here…” he pointed with his wand on his map. “Is the dungeon hall. With only a thin wall separating the two locations…”

“It may very well be an exit.”

Rick took a step forward and was pulled back by Amelia. “Oh, no you don’t!”

“Bu-.”

“No buts!”

Dumbledore and Flitwick exchanged amused glances, their eyes twinkling with the kind of fond exasperation only a student like Rick could inspire. McGonagall, on the other hand, pierced him with a classic stern glare that could silence a howler mid-screech.

Unbothered, Albus stepped forward and, with a theatrical air, climbed into the stone sarcophagus. The heavy lid closed with a resonant groan, silence falling like a curtain. A few heartbeats later, the lid creaked open to reveal nothing. Then, with another shuddering shift, the lid sealed shut again and after a pause, swung open once more to reveal Dumbledore standing inside, unharmed and wearing a particularly mischievous smile.

“It is indeed the exit.”

They paired up and entered the sarcophagus, reappearing in the dungeons hall.

“We need to seal this area, Albus. Students should not-”

Minerva stopped talking when she heard a loud *thud* coming from behind her and Albus. Turning around with her wand drawn she saw Rick on the ground leaning his back against the wall. Unconscious. Amelia was right next to him and was checking if he was alright.

It was deep into the night when Rick finally stirred, the haze of unconsciousness peeling back like layers of fog. His eyes fluttered open, blinking against the dim, softly glowing lantern light of the infirmary.

Disoriented, his gaze roamed the unfamiliar ceiling before he slowly pieced together his surroundings. He was lying on one of the neatly arranged hospital beds, tucked under a blanket with a dull ache resonating through his limbs. Turning his head gingerly, he saw Amelia sitting beside him in a straight-backed wooden chair, her expression one of quiet vigilance.

She was engrossed in a thick book on duelling, the spine bent from years of use, its pages catching the light in soft glints as she turned them with practiced ease. The sight of her there steady, calm, and entirely in her element sent a wave of comfort through Rick's groggy mind.

“Hey,” he said with an obvious tiredness in his voice.

“Hey.” she replied, closing her book. She stood up and approached the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore. Hungry.”

“Well, it’s dinner time.” she answered.

“What happened?”

“You collapsed once we were out. Dumbledore carried you here.”

“Now that’s embarrassing.”

“After your stupid self-sacrificing act, nobody will mock you for passing out. We got rewarded by the way.”

“Oh?”

“Got fifty points for Hufflepuff for the discovery and exploration. You got them too plus a hundred for cruciating yourself.”

“Yay.” he replied neutrally.

“We got awarded another Special Award for Services to the School. We’re the first students to get two in the entire history of Hogwarts.”

“I guess our names will make it to the next edition of Hogwarts: A History,” he joked.

“It’s all secret though, just like the Chamber.”

“Makes sense.”

Madam Pomfrey emerged from her quarters with a brisk stride, wand already drawn and her expression hovering between exasperation and concern. She waved her wand in a series of sharp, practiced motions, casting diagnostic spells that shimmered momentarily around Rick before fading away. Satisfied though clearly not amused she crossed her arms and fixed both students with a stern glare.

"You're lucky you're not in St. Mungo's, young man," she snapped. "If you ever pull something like that again, I swear I'll tie you to this bed myself with magical restraints and not the soft ones either."

Rick gave her a sheepish smile, too tired to argue and entirely aware that she meant every word. With an emphatic gesture toward the door, she dismissed them both, muttering under her breath about reckless Gryffindors and the dwindling patience of school nurses.

Days passed quickly until finally the 25th of December arrived. Excitedly, Rick got up early and was over the moon to see a few presents at the foot of his bed. Opening the window to let Morrigan in as she was knocking on the glass with her small beak, he pulled all his presents on the bed where she landed. He got muggle sweets from Lily, magical sweets from Marlene and a simple leather wand holster from Amelia. It wasn’t much but it meant the world to him.

Not far from his dorm, Minerva McGonagall was looking softly at the gift her favorite lion had given her, while sucking on a strawberry mouse pop. Right in front of her was a small glass case with a golden snitch inside of it, resting on a steel stick. “The first of many” was written on the wood which served as the base of the case. Thinking for a moment, she decided to display it on the side of her desk, near her ink pot. When she reached the Great Hall for breakfast she mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Rick who nodded with a smile.

She wasn’t the only one happy with her gift. Rick had offered Amelia a cleaning kit for her broom. It was the cheapest one but considering his financial situation it was quite the purchase for him and Amelia knew that. She felt touched that he had put so much money on it for her. It didn’t matter one bit that she already had a better one. The gesture was worth a lot more. She was happy and it showed on her face, something quite unusual as Amelia channelled her inner McGonagall most of the time and had a stoic face.

Unfortunately, Rick didn’t miss the opportunity to tease her about it. Now it wasn’t unfortunate for her but for him because Amelia restrained him and put as many licorice wands as she could in his mouth at the same time. Despite his desperate cries for help, the teachers present looked in amusement and did nothing.

After the whole ordeal from a few days ago, the light and festive atmosphere did everyone involved some good.