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HRHL# CHAPTER 213
🕑 Added 2025-06-15 01:13:40 +0000 UTCThe remaining days passed quickly, almost in the blink of an eye, and soon it was nearly time for the holidays.
In the Great Hall, the classic Gryffindor colors of gold and red adorned the space. Thanks to the firm hand of Governor Poppy Sweating, Professor Snape’s notorious precision in docking points had been effectively curbed. As a result, Gryffindor’s score soared ahead, leading by an impressive 124 points.
The students from the three other houses sat in the Great Hall, brimming with cheer, in stark contrast to the rather somber Slytherins.
Slytherin’s prefect, Miss Farley, sat on the bench with a gloomy expression, staring sullenly at the Gryffindor lion banner not far away, unable to utter a word for quite some time.
Seeing Miss Farley’s distress, Draco picked up a goblet of pumpkin juice and offered it to her. “Don’t look so glum, Miss Farley. Come on, have a drink.”
Miss Farley took the pumpkin juice, her eyes fixed intently on the lion banner, and downed the drink in one gulp.
“We’re the champions again,” declared the Gryffindor students.
“Slytherin didn’t win the House Cup,” chimed in the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.
When it came to opposing Slytherin, the other two houses were surprisingly united. As long as Slytherin didn’t claim the House Cup, the outcome was acceptable to them.
Professor McGonagall tapped her goblet, the crisp sound ringing through the entire hall.
“Quiet, please, everyone, quiet,” she said.
The buzzing in the Great Hall fell silent.
Dumbledore rose to his feet, casting a Sonorus charm on himself before addressing the crowd. “As we approach the summer of this new year, we once again welcome the joys of the holiday season.”
“After all, for children, the happiest days are those without classes, are they not?”
A wave of laughter rippled through the hall, with the loudest guffaws coming from Draco’s companions, the troll-like duo Crabbe and Goyle.
Miss Farley shot them a venomous glare, irritated by their carefree attitude. Merlin’s beard, she thought, Slytherin’s House Cup was snatched by Gryffindor, and you two oafs are still laughing?
“In this new school year, we’ve had a few… incidents,” Dumbledore continued, his voice carrying clearly. “The Chamber of Secrets was opened, and one unfortunate student, along with a poor cat, was petrified.”
“You may know that fifty years ago, the Chamber was opened once before. The victim then, Miss Elizabeth Warren—better known to you as Moaning Myrtle—was not so fortunate and was killed outright by the monster.”
“However, thanks to Mr. Harry Potter of Gryffindor, who bravely resolved the small trouble in the Chamber, the monster no longer threatens Hogwarts. On behalf of myself as Headmaster and the entire Hogwarts Board of Governors, I am proud to present him with the Award for Special Services to the School!”
The Award for Special Services to the School was given to Hogwarts students who made outstanding contributions. It was a gold medal inscribed with the recipient’s name.
Once before, a student had received this award: Tom Marvolo Riddle. In June 1942, he earned it for apprehending the culprit behind the Chamber’s opening. His medal sat in a display case in the trophy room, though the reason for his award was not specified.
The Great Hall fell silent for a moment before erupting in enthusiastic cheers from the tables of the three other houses.
The Slytherins, however, were far more reserved, offering polite and orderly applause for Harry.
They had little choice but to clap. Miss Farley was on good terms with Harry, and that terrifying transfer student—who was also quite close to Harry—was currently seated at the Gryffindor table, her narrowed eyes scanning the Slytherin table with a look that clearly said: Anyone who doesn’t clap will regret it later.
“Now, let us announce the final House Cup scores,” Dumbledore continued. “Hufflepuff, 447 points!”
The students in the hall applauded, with the Hufflepuffs cheering the loudest, seemingly unbothered by their last-place finish.
Badgers were like that.
“Ravenclaw, 456 points!” Dumbledore declared next.
The students clapped again, celebrating Ravenclaw’s achievement.
Once the noise died down, Dumbledore announced, “Slytherin, 472 points!”
At first, only the Slytherins clapped in celebration, but when Harry began applauding for them, Gryffindor reluctantly joined in. Following Gryffindor’s lead, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw also started clapping for Slytherin.
Dumbledore watched this with satisfaction, mentally commending Harry’s open-mindedness.
Harry harbored no real prejudice against Slytherin. Aside from the misfortune of producing Voldemort, the house wasn’t all that bad. Compared to that wretched Voldemort, even Headmaster Black seemed downright endearing.
Far away at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Headmaster Black’s portrait sneezed suddenly. He groggily opened his eyes, rubbed his nose, and sneezed again.
“And finally, let us celebrate the champion,” Dumbledore proclaimed. “Gryffindor, 598 points!”
The Great Hall exploded in jubilant cheers, led by the Weasley twins, who set off a burst of Filibuster Fireworks, turning the hall into a festive spectacle.
“We’re the champions!” the twins shouted, each slinging an arm around Percy’s shoulders, jumping and dancing as if they had personally earned every point for Gryffindor.
“They’ve conveniently forgotten they were more of a hindrance than a help,” Ginny remarked, shaking her head helplessly.
“I’d bet if those two had behaved themselves, Gryffindor could’ve broken 700 points,” Angelina Johnson commented.
“So, does this mean no Quidditch practice today?” Alicia Spinnet ventured cautiously.
Oliver Wood glanced down at the shrinking Alicia and smiled. “It’s the holidays. Why would I drag you all out for Quidditch practice? But—don’t forget to train on your own when you’re home, got it?”
“Yes, Captain,” the Gryffindor Quidditch team responded in a drawn-out chorus.
Once the celebrations wound down, Dumbledore announced the start of the feast.
“Blimey, Harry,” Ron said from beside him. “I’d love to get the Award for Special Services to the School. Mum would probably reward me with extra chicken drumsticks.”
“You can reward yourself,” Hermione said, a hint of exasperation in her voice.
Ron crossed his arms and huffed. “That’s not the same as a reward, is it? You wouldn’t understand.”
“Fine, I’ll reward you,” Hermione said, picking up a drumstick from the table. “Ronald Weasley, I, Hermione Jean Granger, hereby award you one large chicken drumstick.”
Veratia, watching the two bicker, wore a fond, almost maternal smile.
“Who knows, maybe next year you’ll get the award,” Harry said with a grin. “Don’t worry, Ron, you’ve got five more years to make it happen.”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Ron replied cheerfully, taking the drumstick from Hermione and tearing into it happily.
“What are your plans for the holidays?” Hermione asked Harry, then turned to Veratia. “I bet you two might go traveling?”
“No, I’ve still got to finish my studies at the Muggle school, Hermione,” Veratia said with a smile. “Don’t forget, there’s still the summer term…”
“What about you, Harry?” Ron asked, feeding Scabbers a bit of food. “What’re your holiday plans? You’re not staying with the Dursleys, are you?”
“Probably,” Harry replied. “But I might go out and wander a bit.”
“Maybe we could all visit the Weasleys together,” Hermione suggested with a grin. “My dad’s always been fascinated by Mr. Weasley’s flying car. I think they’d get along well. He even mentioned it in his last letter, asking me to check with you, Ron.”
“Oh, that won’t work,” Ron said, shrugging regretfully. “Dad won some prize—the Daily Prophet’s annual award, with a 700-Galleon jackpot. He and Mum decided to take the whole family to Egypt to visit my brother Bill. You know, he’s a curse-breaker at Gringotts there. We’ll also do some sightseeing and relax a bit.”
“I see,” Hermione said, nodding. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait until you’re back from Egypt to meet up.”
“See you, see you!” Jack shouted from the side.
By now, Veratia had learned that the one who’d torn up Harry’s notebook wasn’t a sunflower parrot but the Sunflower Parrot. Still, she couldn’t exactly do anything about a parrot, especially since it was her brother, and Jack wasn’t.
“I’d love to visit Egypt,” Seamus piped up. “I want to see the pyramids, check if there are really mummies in there—you know, those things wrapped in bandages. They sound pretty creepy, don’t they?”
“Mummies aren’t scary, Seamus,” Hermione said. “They’re just Egyptian corpses, really, not much different from Inferi. A fire spell would turn them to ash in no time.”
“Honestly, Seamus,” Neville said timidly, “I think in a mummy’s eyes, you’d be the scariest thing around.”
Instead of taking offense, Seamus beamed proudly. “Haha, that’s what I think too! A mummy? I bet none of them could survive my Blasting Curse.”
After the feast, the holidays officially began.
In theory, students could leave the school that day, but since the train typically departed in the morning, most chose to stay one more night at Hogwarts and head home the next day.
A few students, like Pansy Parkinson, whose families had carriages, left early that afternoon.
That same afternoon, Sebastian awoke from his petrified state.
Harry specifically invited Veratia to join him as he visited the Hospital Wing.
“Hey, Seb,” Harry called, using Sebastian’s nickname. “I’m really glad to see you up and about again.”
“I’m thrilled too,” Sebastian replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Especially after being stuffed into your wallet and getting a glare from your Basilisk. Truly a delight for an old friend.”
T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
