Human curiosity exists at every moment; it's just that each person is curious about different things.
For example, some people wonder whether a walnut that has been crushed in a door can still nourish the brain, or whether one can eat on an empty stomach—questions of that… well, brilliantly clever sort.
What Vinda was curious about was not whether Hogwarts truly had a werewolf, but rather she wanted to know more about the environment in which Eda lived and studied.
It was like the question parents always asked when their child was young—how was school today? Did you get into any fights?
Vinda's curiosity about the werewolf was of that same kind; at its core, it was still because of Eda. Without Eda, who would care which werewolf it was? That would be a matter for the Ministry of Magic to worry about.
When curiosity cannot be satisfied, it is a very frightening thing. Eda understood this deeply.
With no other choice, she had to satisfy her grandmother a little. Leaving out names and identifying details, she told a short bedtime story. Only then, content, did Vinda let her go and head downstairs to rest alone.
The night breeze in Paris was far gentler than that of the Scottish Highlands; there was no raging wind to shatter dreams, and she slept peacefully through the night. For Eda, Paris at this stage was somewhat of a safe harbor.
Here, she didn't know many people, and many matters had nothing to do with her. Nor did she have to face the inevitable Halloween "surprise" and become entangled in unknown dangers.
In Paris, the only people who might irritate Eda a little were probably Alain and Vincent Rosier. However, those two had enough self-awareness and weren't thick-skinned; they wouldn't come around for no reason just to be an eyesore.
It was comfortable.
As long as Eda didn't go looking for trouble or think about unnecessary things, her life was the kind others could genuinely envy.
Clothes were handed to her when she reached out; food was ready when she opened her mouth. Perhaps even the ivory tower in the Song of Songs of the Old Testament was no more than this.
These past few days, Vinda and Eda had been decorating the house together. Even though magic could have accomplished it all, under Vinda's direction Eda climbed up and down, hanging holly and mistletoe everywhere.
Grandmother and granddaughter enjoyed the harmonious process of working together, while the house-elf Agnès on the side looked as though she wished she could knock her head against the ground.
Fortunately, house-elves did not have much in the way of eyebrows; otherwise, Agnès' brows would surely have been knotted tightly together.
Eda truly had no talent for housework. She lacked quick thinking and dexterous hands, and was terribly clumsy. After she finished hanging everything, Agnès would probably have to redo it all from start to finish—otherwise, Christmas might not even be possible.
Back when she was in the orphanage, Eda had also been the slowest at chores. By the time the other children finished their tasks and went off to play, she might only have completed half of hers.
This was what happened when one's talent tree was skewed. Eda had put all her points into academics and "hands-on" ability, which resulted in her present life being extremely dependent on magic.
Using her mouth was fine; using her hands was not. Wherever magic could be used, she would absolutely not use her hands!
This sort of activity—"wasting" the fruits of the house-elf's labor—continued until Christmas Eve.
It ended not because Eda had finished decorating the house, nor because grandmother and granddaughter had found something more interesting to do, but because Eda discovered the truth late the previous night.
For several days, every midnight, Agnès would rearrange everything Eda had decorated during the day. In order to keep those two "detestable" women from noticing anything amiss, Agnès had truly racked her brains and gone to great lengths.
She made subtle adjustments as inconspicuously as possible, making the furnishings and decorations in the house look just a little more pleasing.
Eda did not disturb the hardworking Agnès. Instead, she stuck out her tongue in embarrassment and quietly went back to bed. Thus, on Christmas Eve, Eda ended her act of "dressing in bright clothes to amuse her elders," took out her wand, and began redecorating.
The house-elf Agnès did not remain idle either. She hung golden bells all over the Christmas tree, and their crisp chimes added a few more touches of festive spirit.
Beneath the tree stood a model of a manger. If figurines of the Virgin Mary and Joseph were added, it would truly have that authentic feeling.
On Christmas morning, Eda, wrapped in her dressing gown and wearing slippers, came to the Christmas tree. Beside the manger model, gifts were already piled high.
She was startled by the sheer number of packages.
At Hogwarts, she had already exchanged gifts with her friends. She had thought there would be nothing more today, but she was wrong.
Professor McGonagall's gift was once again a set of new clothes, though this year they were light purple.
Mrs. Weasley's gift was still a handmade red turtleneck sweater, along with a box of pralines.
Snape had also, for once, sent a gift—a thick book on Potions.
Dumbledore's gift was still a mixed box of sweets, stuffed with colorful candies, which were probably all personally taste-tested by him. Looking at this "carefully" selected box of sweets, Eda felt somewhat guilty about what she had done.
Just as Eda was regretting her actions, her grandmother Vinda walked over to her side and asked softly, "What's the matter? How did unwrapping presents leave you with such a bitter expression?"
After speaking, Vinda picked a soft candy from the box. Sweet candy always brought people a good mood.
Eda returning to spend Christmas with her made Vinda very happy; she could hardly remember how long it had been since she last celebrated Christmas.
"Um… these sweets are a gift from Professor Dumbledore. I recommend you try those pralines—they taste quite good as well," Eda felt it was better to give a reminder. There was a saying about loving the house and its crow; hating the house and its crow was not impossible either.
"It's fine. These sweets are innocent. By the way, did you give him anything?" Vinda said indifferently, though her hand was quite honest and did not reach toward the mixed sweets box again.
"Of course I did. I gave him a big box of Pepper Imps." Eda gestured with her hands to show the size, then added, "Something rather stimulating to eat… well, it counts as candy."
"You child, always fooling around."
Vinda first gave a mild scolding, then picked up the red turtleneck sweater set aside and asked, "This must be the sweater sent by that Mrs. Weasley, correct? The stitches are tight, and it feels nice to the touch. You should properly thank their family."
Vinda was somewhat particular. The reason this sweater met her approval was not because Mrs. Weasley's craftsmanship was exceptionally good, but because of the meaning behind the sweater.
Even if she had not found Eda again, at least her granddaughter would have had a place to shelter her from wind and rain.
One must know how to be grateful. That was why Vinda had scolded Eda for giving Pepper Imps. But in truth, the Pepper Imps were not the real gift. Hidden among the pile of Pepper Imps was a pair of wool socks, knitted by Eda herself.
The unwrapped packages were not all that she had received, and the parcels under the Christmas tree were not limited to just those few.
Thierry and Henry had both sent gifts. The gifts from the grandfather and grandson happened to make a complete set—a set of crystal chess pieces and a chessboard, respectively.
And that was not all. What Eda had least expected was the final gift. That package had actually come from Alain and Vincent Rosier, father and son—a conventional set of jewelry.
The craftsmanship of the set could not be considered exquisite, but the materials were solid.
The gift from Alain and his son seemed somewhat perfunctory on the surface, yet it had been carefully chosen by the two of them. The lack of exquisite craftsmanship hinted at Eda's mixed-blood status, while the solid materials expressed their attitude.
They hoped Vinda would keep her word and not support her granddaughter in seizing power; they also hoped Eda would grow to the expected height and bring glory and benefit to the family.
With just a glance, Eda understood what the father and son were trying to convey. Rather than being a gift for her, it was more something presented for her grandmother Vinda to see.
"This is as far as they'll ever amount to in this lifetime," Vinda said, shaking her head. "They always feel as though they've accepted something through gritted teeth, always think they're the ones at a loss. They'll never learn to judge their proper place."
Vinda belittled her nephew as worthless, but Eda did not entirely agree.
In her view, at least the father and son understood the times and knew when to advance and when to retreat. They had not foolishly chosen to smash an egg against a stone. Compared to many pure-blood families in her impression, Alain's conduct was still passable.
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