There was nothing much to say about Ron's pet rat, Scabbers. Apart from being unusually long-lived, he looked no different from any other pet rat—fat and old, with nothing particularly appealing about him.
At the beginning, the rat hadn't even been Ron's pet. Ron had inherited him from his older brothers, just like his old robes and secondhand textbooks.
Ron couldn't understand why Crookshanks kept chasing after Scabbers. Even if catching mice was a cat's instinct, Crookshanks' obsession with Scabbers had long gone beyond what could be explained by instinct alone.
Not just Ron—even Percy, the Head Boy, couldn't figure it out.
Back when Scabbers had still belonged to Percy, Garlon had already launched the first round of pursuit against him. If a cat catching a mouse could be explained by instinct, then what about Garlon? A dog catching a rat—sticking his nose where it didn't belong?
Under the "negotiations" of his elder brother Percy, Eda had been forced to restrain Garlon's meddlesome behavior, which allowed Scabbers to cling to life for a few more years.
Now it was Ron's turn. As the youngest of the younger brothers, he didn't have that kind of influence. Whether it was Eda or Hermione, neither of them was someone he could handle.
That left poor Scabbers in misery. He had to face the overwhelming joint pursuit of both Crookshanks and Garlon.
Since the summer holiday, Scabbers' rat life had seemed to be nearing its end. He grew listless, looking as though he might keel over at any moment. Yet he stubbornly held on until now—neither defeated by time nor turned into a meal for his natural enemies.
Scabbers' rat life was almost too inspirational—more dramatic than any underdog story, practically a miracle of life, a model among rats!
To keep his pet from being eaten, Ron had gone to great lengths. He had a huge argument with Hermione and spent his free time wandering around the common room, either chasing cats or driving off dogs.
With the help of his devoted owner, Scabbers' life was extended, and he successfully made it to December, reaching yet another peak in his rat career.
The combined cat-and-dog operation was ruthlessly suppressed, and Scabbers was allowed to linger on, continuing to enjoy the remainder of his life.
But that was about as much as Ron could do. And for Ron, the allure of Hogsmeade was far greater than that of a smelly old rat.
Ever since the Dementors had stormed into the Quidditch pitch and earned Dumbledore's fury, nothing major had happened at Hogwarts.
The Dementors did not cross the line again and stayed obediently at their posts in Hogsmeade. Sirius Black seemed to have vanished into thin air and was not seen by anyone again.
Even when Harry was discharged from the hospital wing, Draco Malfoy did not mock his performance on the pitch.
With no gossip to discuss and no excitement to watch, campus life was reduced to endless, tedious studying. Finally, amid the students' eager anticipation, they welcomed a seasoning to their dull lives—Hogsmeade weekend.
The students could take this trip to Hogsmeade to relax, shop for Christmas gifts they fancied, and those under immense pressure could have a few drinks to adjust themselves—so they wouldn't end up crying or making a fuss for no reason.
On Saturday morning, as soon as they woke up, everyone discovered that the sky, gloomy for two months, had suddenly cleared, turning into a bright, dazzling pearly white.
Smiles were everywhere, and people excitedly discussed the upcoming trip to Hogsmeade—everyone except the unlucky Harry.
Wrapped in his cloak and scarf, Harry once again turned into a statue waiting for someone, standing blankly at the castle entrance.
The snowflakes drifting outside the castle were like Harry's own glistening tears.
As if misfortunes never came singly, Harry ran into Eda again. Not being able to go to Hogsmeade was bad enough; he didn't want his big sister figure to rub salt in the wound. So he lowered his head and hurried past without even saying hello.
Eda sniffed hard. She was quite sure there was nothing unpleasant about her smell, so why was Harry avoiding her? It wasn't like she was going to check his homework. Why was he running so fast?
"You can dodge the first day of the month, but not the fifteenth." That saying worked just as well at Hogwarts. Harry had managed to avoid the sharp-tongued Eda, but he couldn't escape the twins' double-team ambush.
Harry ran straight into Fred and George. Before he even had time to react, he found his feet off the ground. By the time he realized what had happened, he had already been dragged into an empty classroom.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked cautiously. "Why aren't you going to Hogsmeade?" If he could, he would have shouted: Big brothers, big sisters, please spare me!
The twins didn't answer Harry's question right away. They only began to speak after Eda had locked the classroom door.
Fred said nonchalantly, "Hogsmeade? We got tired of going there back in second year."
The well-fed don't know the hunger of the starving. The place Eda and the twins were sick of visiting was somewhere Harry dreamed of going.
If he could win in a fight, Harry would definitely let them know he wasn't made of dough!
"We've known you for so long, and it seems like we've never given you a proper gift, Harry," George said. Instead of getting straight to the point, he matched the castle's recent festive decorations with a line like that.
Harry was a bit stunned by the remark. He had no idea what the twins were trying to imply. Wasn't it a bit early for Christmas presents?
"They prepared your Christmas gift in advance," Eda said from where she stood by the door.
Because she had been helping Harry practice the Patronus Charm lately, Eda had seen that dumbfounded expression on his face many times. Honestly, she was tired of it.
Aside from the extremely difficult Patronus Charm, Eda had also taught Harry a few simple and practical spells to improve his ability to protect himself. Every time she demonstrated a spell, Harry would put on a shocked expression.
They all attended Hogwarts. They were all in Gryffindor. Even the teachers were the same group. So why was the gap between people so enormous?
Had Eda been secretly taking extra lessons somewhere? Was there still a chance to sign up? Get him in on it, too.
Fred shot Eda a look, as if blaming her for talking too much. Then he said mysteriously, "Before we leave, we're here to give you a bit of holiday spirit—and show you what the world of big kids is like!"
If she hadn't known what the twins were planning, Eda might really have formed some strange associations from that sentence. After all, as early as their second year, the twins had begun researching profound questions like "how people come into this world."
Thirteen-year-old Harry was still very innocent—maybe truly innocent, maybe just pretending. His face showed only interest in the gift, nothing else messy or complicated.
When he saw the twins take out an old piece of parchment, Harry was stunned again. The expression on his face was exactly the same as Eda's had been back then, both clearly asking: What is this?
"Don't make that déjà vu expression," George said, patting the parchment fondly. "This isn't an ordinary piece of parchment—it's the secret to our success!"
"Honestly, we can hardly bear to give it to you," Fred said. "But it's obvious that right now, you need it more than we do!"
Confusion, puzzlement, utter incomprehension—Harry truly couldn't see what was so special about this old piece of parchment that the twins treasured so dearly. He asked blankly, "But why would I need an old piece of parchment?"
"An old piece of parchment!" Fred shut his eyes and pulled a face, as if Harry's words had deeply wounded him. "Explain it to him, George."
"Well… it's like this. When we were in first year, Harry… young, carefree—two words: green and naïve…"
Very quickly, George explained the parchment's origins to Harry—how they had obtained it, how they had discovered the secret hidden within it, and how they had used it to achieve their own success.
"You're deliberately keeping me in suspense," Harry said, staring at the battered parchment.
"Oh, Harry, that's the smartest thing you've said in the past month."
Eda's voice drifted lightly across the room and into Harry's ears.
Embarrassed, Harry scratched his hair, making his already unimpressive hairstyle even worse.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," George said, tapping the parchment lightly with his wand.
In an instant, the old parchment underwent a dramatic transformation. Fine lines of ink spread across it, and everything within Hogwarts came vividly to life upon the paper.
Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers
Are Proud to Present
The Marauder's Map!!
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