Five years.
What can change in five years?
Completely end a rebellion, hastily host two Quidditch World Cups, let the Weird Sisters complete a tour of Europe, and upgrade Hogsmeade from a village to a town...
Of course, it will also make a once care-free second-year little wizard start worrying about their N.E.W.T.s exams, especially on the eve of the Christmas holiday when facing a pile of seemingly self-replicating homework, reaching the peak of distress—
"Ah..."
Astoria Greengrass sighed deeply, her upper body went limp on the polished walnut counter as if her bones had been extracted.
The feather quill in her hand swayed unconsciously between her fingers, drawing meaningless arcs above the parchment.
The girl turned her head, her gaze wandering over the stack of reference books piled up at the edge of the counter, drawn to the mistletoe hanging above the window.
Outside, the night at Hogsmeade was softened by thick snow, warm yellow lights streamed from the windows of each house illuminating the flurries, the faint sound of cheerful music, laughter, and frolicking could be heard from afar, everything seemed imbued with the unique lazy and bustling atmosphere of the holiday...
But, except for her, and this fourteen-inch essay on "The Impact and Assessment of the Third Goblin Rebellion on Modern Wizard Society."
When people are doing homework (or work), everything else in the world suddenly becomes interesting.
At this moment, the girl even felt it would be more appealing to mop the already gleaming maple floor of the fashion store or to organize those retro wizard hats with exaggerated lace that might never sell in the warehouse behind.
Just as she was about to prop herself up and actually go find a mop to numb her history-filled brain with manual labor—
"Ding-a-ling."
The string of blue wind chimes hanging beside the mistletoe swayed gently, creating a pleasant crisp sound as the shop door was pushed open from outside, bringing in a gust of cold air filled with snowflakes and clearer sounds of the hubbub.
A tall figure swiftly slipped in, then closed the door with a kick, blocking the cold wind and accompanying noise outside, she removed the fur-lined deep blue hood, revealing a face similar to Astoria's but more mature.
Daphne Greengrass shook the snow from her boots with a light stomp.
"All sorted out?"
Astoria maintained her awkward half-risen posture, looked up at her sister with a voice full of obvious envy—the envy that she no longer needed to wrestle with the magic history essay.
"Yes, just verified the list of custom dress accessories, the owl has already sent it off."
Daphne nodded, her tone carrying a subtle fatigue after a day's work, she removed the heavy coat she wore, and a carved clothes stand beside her promptly bent over "graciously" for her to hang the coat, "What about the shop? Any customers this afternoon?"
Astoria slumped back into the chair, picked up her feather quill, poking at the clearly empty parchment, "Of course—not, sister, think about it, who would come to Hogsmeade on a snowy Christmas night to buy a new robe or evening dress? Either they're at parties, or drinking, or..."
She cast her eyes ruefully at the stack of reference books beside her, "Enduring the Goblin Rebellion... Damn goblins." She muttered through gritted teeth.
Daphne walked to the bar counter behind, poured herself a steaming cup of honey tea, leaned against the partition, sipped a little, "Makes sense, so how's your essay going? I remember you started writing yesterday."
"Yesterday? It's been that long?"
Astoria spoke weakly, "Then my progress is rather impressive—finished a whole three... two and a half lines." She sighed, resignedly tossed the feather quill aside, and seemed to question no one—
"Why? Why is something like the 'Goblin Rebellion' that happened just a few years back—whose details still remain unclear—already in our N.E.W.T.s exam scope? It's unreasonable!!"
Daphne put down her teacup, walked to her sister, casually flipped through a few heavy reference books, "Isn't that good?" She raised an eyebrow, lapsing into memories, "Experiencing history yourself leaves a stronger impression than listening to Professor Binns drone on about dates and treaties from hundreds of years ago, doesn't it? At least you know it really happened, not just a story—"
"Experience firsthand?"
Astoria sat up abruptly, eyes wide, "Dear Daphne, I was only in second grade back then—do you know where our common room is? The basement! That whole day was chaotic in the common room, only hearing the commotion outside, I even fell asleep then... if it weren't for that explosion later, I might have slept till the next morning..."
As she spoke, the more irate she got, slumping back onto the counter again, flipping back and forth like a fish flipping on a hot iron sheet, "Now—I'm supposed to analyze the far-reaching impact and ideological changes it's caused on the wizarding world... Merlin's pantyhose, don't let me find out who put this in the exam scope—" She gritted her teeth and said.
Meanwhile, in a Ford car already above the Atlantic Ocean.
"Achoo!!"
A certain "behind-the-scenes manipulator" who pushed for the rapid implementation of "strengthening basic wizarding education" rubbed their nose.
...
Daphne watched her sister's antics, couldn't help but shake her head, "At least you're okay, that's enough."
She paused, as if remembering something, "Stop moping around here, want to go out for some air? On my way back, I passed the central square, it seems quite lively, those two redheads have set up a new magical snow display, and they're offering free hot butterbeer."
"No."
Astoria's voice remained sulky, "I now just hope there'd appear a savior to rescue me from fire and water—not the Harry Potter kind, I think Granger fits the role better, God, someone come and help me write the essay, I'd do anything for it—"
Thus, just as she finished speaking, with the words still lingering in the air—
"Squeak?"
A familiar sound suddenly emerged from beside Daphne's hand.
Both sisters paused, and looked down following the sound.
Right beside Daphne's hand was a small, furry, slick black figure that had appeared unnoticed.
It was a Niffler.
Smaller in size than a typical Niffler, its fur remarkably sleek, under the light emitting a healthy sheen, sitting there with a round belly, a pair of beady eyes staring fixedly at Astoria—the shiny button on her cuff.
The girl's pupils slightly enlarged, the color of surprise gradually overtaking her face, she silently stared at the Niffler for a full ten seconds, finally exclaiming—
"Kabuda?"