Snow arrived in silent waves across the stone ribs of the castle, bnketing the world in a stillness I found comforting. Hogwarts, for all its endless noise, finally quieted as students prepared to leave for the winter holidays. Trunks cttered, owls fpped into the frost-bitten skies, and the station at Hogsmeade bustled with anticipation.

  But I stayed. As I always pnned to.

  “Home for the holidays?” Jake asked as he wrestled with his scarf, eyes darting between his trunk and Evie’s retreating figure down the corridor.

  I shook my head. “No. Castle’s quieter during winter. Fewer distractions.”

  Jake gave me a long, unreadable look before forcing a grin.

  “Well, not all of us are lone-wolf masterminds who prefer empty corridors and cryptic thoughts. Some of us like… snowball fights. Hot cocoa. Girl-shaped distractions.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Are you rehearsing your confessional lines or just nervous?”

  He coughed and kicked his trunk shut. “What, me? Pfft. Please. I’ve fought bludgers with no helmet. I can handle—”

  “Evie Lockhart,” I finished for him.

  Jake went pale. “You’re a monster.”

  I grinned, just a twitch. “Yes.”

  A Gryffindor Christmas ConfessionOn the final evening before the official Christmas Eve, while I walked the quiet halls alone, Jake found Evie beneath the enchanted pine tree in the common room. Lights flickered between needles, casting green firelight across her red hair. She wore a dark crimson jumper with a golden phoenix stitched across the chest—someone’s attempt at holiday cheer.

  Jake looked like he was walking into battle.

  “I got you something,” he said, holding out a small parcel wrapped in uneven parchment.

  She took it carefully, fingers brushing his, and unwrapped it slowly. Inside was a small carved figurine of a lion—clearly handmade, perhaps by Hagrid if I guessed right. Its tiny wooden jaw was slightly crooked, but it had Jake’s brand of fearless stubbornness etched into every rough angle.

  “I love you,” he said, not loudly, not boldly. Just enough for her to hear.

  Evie stared at the lion.

  Then at him.

  Then said nothing at all.

  Silence bloomed between them.

  And Jake… smiled anyway.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to say anything now. I just wanted you to know.”

  And he walked away, leaving her alone with the gift. The lion gred at her from her palm, unmoving.

  The Slug Club Christmas PartyHogwarts shimmered that night.

  The walls of the potion wing had been transformed into something warm and velvet-lined, with floating candles drifting low enough to melt your hair if you weren’t careful. Slughorn’s Slug Club Christmas party had arrived, and with it, a whirl of ughter, sugary drinks, and music that made my ears ache.

  I wore bck—always bck. Robes clean, pressed, and dull next to the gaudy shine of enchanted bowties and charmed brooches. I arrived alone, of course. Jake had escorted Evie, arm-in-arm, as promised. She let him, but something in her posture said her mind was elsewhere. Maybe still with the lion.

  Slughorn greeted everyone like he was the king of some drunken feast.

  “Caelum, my boy!” he boomed. “Come, meet some of my finer guests tonight. This here is Belvina Burke—ah yes, from the family behind Borgin and Burkes—you two might get along splendidly!”

  We didn’t.

  She talked about cursed objects and whispered gossip in pureblood dialect. I sipped my drink and nodded politely, mentally casting up illusions of every path out of the room. No windows. Two guarded doors. My mind never rested.

  Evie eventually drifted over, a drink in hand and cheeks faintly red from heat or embarrassment—or both.

  “You’re not enjoying this, are you?” she asked.

  “I’m enduring it.”

  She gave a quiet, half-ugh and looked down at her shoes.

  “Jake… he confessed.”

  “I know,” I replied simply. “You didn’t answer.”

  Her eyes flicked to mine. “You were watching?”

  “I’m always watching.”

  She studied me for a beat too long. “And what about you? What do you think of love?”

  “I think love is a battlefield.” I sipped my pumpkin fizz. “And you should never step onto one unless you’ve already accepted pain.”

  She said nothing to that. But I saw something flicker behind her eyes.

  Something curious.

  Something troubled.

  Christmas Morning – Gifts and GhostsChristmas Day came without sound.

  Gifts arrived at my bedside, wrapped with care and sealed with familial touches. Lyra’s was first—a scribbled drawing of the family, complete with a smiling bck cat that was supposed to be Kuro. She’d enchanted it so the stick figures waved.

  My mother’s letter came folded in scarlet silk:

  “Stay warm. Think less. Come home soon. I made your favorite pie.”— Love, Mum

  And my father’s gift… was a leather-bound journal. No inscription. No letter. Just bnk pages and an ink pen.

  Typical.

  Jake got socks, several chocote frogs, and a knitted scarf from someone whose identity he refused to admit.

  Evie got a book of complex hexes and a rose charm neckce—neither from Jake.

  She wore the neckce, though.

  He didn’t say a word about it.

  Final ThoughtsThat evening, as the fire crackled and the rest of the castle y asleep, I sat in the common room and stared at the bnk journal.

  Empty.

  Waiting.

  Like me.

  I turned the first page. Wrote one sentence.

  “Even in peace, war lingers beneath the skin.”

  Then closed the book.

  And the fire crackled on.

  [End of Chapter 18]