Night fell, and the temperature dropped sharply.
As Qin Yu and Hermione came downstairs, they found Mr. Granger hauling in split firewood from outside, stacking it in a generous pile beside the fireplace.
Catching sight of this, Qin Yu immediately hurried over to help—he had at least that much sense.
Once there was enough wood, Mr. Granger crouched down to prepare the fire, while Qin Yu watched closely, eager to learn the technique.
"I imagine making a fire is easy for you lot—don't you just toss out a 'fireball spell' or something?" Mr. Granger remarked, arranging the logs as he glanced back at Qin Yu.
Qin Yu just smiled, choosing not to explain that there was no such thing as a "fireball spell," and simply nodded. "Something like that."
After all, the Incendio spell did produce a ball of fire—close enough to the "fireball" of Muggle fantasy novels.
The wood was stacked from thickest to thinnest, each layer crossing the last.
Mr. Granger explained this was called the grid method. Qin Yu pointed out that the pattern looked just like the Chinese character for "well," and used a slender stick to sketch it on the ground. Mr. Granger was genuinely intrigued, marveling at how pictographic writing was so full of everyday life. He memorized the character carefully—who knew when he'd show it off?
"Once the wood's stacked, you use these wax firelighters—two will do, one in the middle and one at the top. Light the top one first, then the one below."
As he spoke, Mr. Granger pulled a long match from the box and struck it with a sharp snap. He touched the flame to the top firelighter, then tossed the burning match into the heart of the pile.
Moments later, a lively fire blazed in the hearth, painting both their faces with a warm glow as the room filled with gentle heat.
"See? Mastering fire is a kind of magic too, isn't it?" Mr. Granger said, his voice a blend of pride and awe.
"It is. Humans are remarkable—this really is a kind of magic," Qin Yu replied earnestly.
He understood what Mr. Granger was doing—trying, perhaps subconsciously, to bridge the gap between himself, his daughter, and Qin Yu. And Qin Yu didn't find it odd at all.
It reminded him of something he'd seen in his previous life: aging parents forwarding articles and videos to their children, trying to prove they hadn't lost touch with the world—or with their kids.
But the truth was, the distance between them only grew, and that drifting apart was a fact of life for many families.
Ordinary parents and children drifted apart slowly, over years. But for the Grangers, the chasm between the Muggle and magical worlds had yawned open the moment their daughter turned eleven. It was sudden, not gradual. Perhaps they weren't as prepared as they thought.
Qin Yu tried to understand their feelings, but he knew there was nothing he could do to help.
In a way, extraordinary power was also an extraordinary curse. To gain it meant drifting ever further from the world of ordinary people—whether you wanted to or not.
He glanced toward the kitchen. Hermione had gone to help her mother with dinner, and now Mrs. Granger was saying something that made Hermione wave her arms in animated protest.
Catching Qin Yu's gaze, Hermione shot him a wide-eyed look—clearly a warning.
He shrugged and flashed an "OK" sign, though he had no idea what he was being warned about.
When he saw her visibly relax, Qin Yu just shook his head and decided not to fret about distances or divides.
Why worry so much? He wasn't some emotional guru dispensing life advice.
…
As the temperature continued to fall, night brought the first gentle snow.
At first, only a few flakes drifted down, but soon the sky filled with swirling white. The world outside turned hushed and gray, as if the snow muffled every sound but its own soft whisper.
With the fire crackling in the hearth, the house was warm and inviting.
Perhaps to celebrate the children's return, dinner was especially lavish that night.
The four of them gathered around the table, eating and chatting, mostly about Christmas plans.
Mrs. Granger asked what everyone wanted for Christmas dinner, jotting down a menu that looked much like last year's—because, in the end, Christmas was about being together, not about what was on the table.
But Hermione insisted that Qin should make a dish too. She requested those delicious noodles in broth—perfect as one of the main courses.
"No problem. This time I'll try a different recipe—pork and spices stewed into a rich broth, poured over fresh noodles," Qin Yu promised, planning to attempt a proper pork noodle soup.
Just the description was enough to make Hermione swallow hungrily, and both Grangers expressed their anticipation. As for why this Eastern boy, with his patchy memory, still remembered how to cook—well, perhaps the love of food was simply carved into human instinct.
…
By bedtime, the snow showed no sign of stopping. It might well fall all night.
Qin Yu lay in his small attic bed, staring up at the slanted roof, half-imagining he could feel the snow piling up above—growing heavier and heavier, until the beams creaked under the weight.
He was just starting to worry about the roof caving in when his door creaked open.
A girl in pink pajamas tiptoed inside.
He was about to sit up, but Hermione was faster—she lifted his covers and slipped in beside him with practiced ease.
As she snuggled in, she whispered, "Don't worry, Mum and Dad are already asleep."
…
So you do know I'm scared of your parents, huh?
Qin Yu was speechless for a moment.
Still, he considered himself a gentleman. Even if he felt a little guilty, it wasn't much.
"So cold~" Hermione shivered, her teeth chattering.
Qin Yu quickly tucked the covers around them and pulled her close.
As warmth spread, Hermione stopped shaking and started to giggle.
"What's so funny?" Qin Yu asked, looking down at her.
"I dunno!" she answered brightly, burrowing deeper into his arms as if afraid the heat might escape.
They drifted into an easy, meandering conversation.
Sometimes they talked about what Hogwarts was like now, sometimes about the Christmas markets in London, sometimes about how much snow had piled up on the attic roof and how they'd have to clear it tomorrow.
"I feel like Mum and Dad are acting a bit strange this time. I mean, the way they talk to me… I can't quite put my finger on it," Hermione said suddenly, a note of worry in her voice.
"Well… after being apart for so long, everyone changes. You, me, Uncle David, Aunt Jenny—we're all changing. So when we meet again, it's only natural we have to find new ways to get along," Qin Yu said quietly, after thinking for a moment.
"Is that really it?"
"Of course. Remember last Christmas, when I came back? You acted like you didn't even recognize me. Just froze on the spot."
"I did not! I was… um… it was cold! My joints were frozen, that's all. Yes, frozen!"
"Miss Granger, that excuse is… truly convincing."
"If you don't believe me, feel my knees—they're frozen right now!"
"All right, all right, keep your hands to yourself…"
"Hm?"
"Cold air's getting in."
"Okay~ I get it~"
…
"Let's talk about something else, just to distract you."
"What are you on about? Don't say weird things!"
"I've studied up~"
"No need to be that studious. And it's not what you think."
"Mm-hmm, let's change the subject~"
…
The snow kept falling, the roof above them creaking under its weight. In the cozy darkness, the two of them whispered about everything and nothing, until their voices faded away. No one knew how much time passed, but eventually, the snow outside stopped as well.
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