In the Quidditch match at the end of November, Hufflepuff suffered a crushing defeat in the snow, and Gryffindor and Ravenclaw are now rivals for the House Cup.
In order to win, Captain Charlie has been intensifying Quidditch training, which has been unbearable for the regular players. As substitutes, Fred and others can always find good excuses to skip the arduous training in the snow.
"Charlie must be crazy!" Fred muttered, looking out at the snowstorm.
"He's just too eager to win the Quidditch trophy." Albert could understand Charlie's efforts; after all, it was the responsibility of the Quidditch captain. If even the captain himself relaxed, Gryffindor would probably never have a chance to lift the trophy.
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"Are you going home for the Christmas holidays?" Li Qiaodan asked, looking up after finishing reading the letter from home.
"Let's go back for the holidays," Fred said without hesitation after exchanging glances with George.
"I'll be going home for the holidays too." Albert looked at the potted plants by the window and asked, "What will happen to the things in the flowerpots when we all go home?"
"Leave it here, don't water it for a month, it should be fine, right?" George looked at the lush garlic plant by the window, but his tone lacked confidence.
"Actually, you can make them when you get back, I mean… during the Christmas holidays," Albert tentatively brought up the matter.
In fact, Albert knew very well that the group had lost much of their enthusiasm for making garlic crosses.
Unfortunately, children's patience is always very limited, and Albert even suspected that they had already forgotten about the matter.
"Oh, this!" Fred and George exchanged glances, seemingly... as if they no longer had the same enthusiasm as before for making the so-called amulets.
The group was even a little confused, wondering why they had been so enthusiastic about making such a thing in the first place.
"Hmm, we can try. But we're not quite sure how to make… a garlic cross. Do we really have to soak the cross in crushed garlic?" Fred asked tentatively, unsure if his mother would spank him for wasting garlic like that.
"You could crush the garlic, soak it in alcohol, and then soak the cross in it." Albert hadn't tried it himself, so his suggestions for the two were limited.
"That's a good idea. But…" Fred paused, as if he had forgotten what he was going to say.
"However, we're not sure if we can get any alcohol," George continued. They had a hard time even getting regular beer, let alone alcohol; getting any would be very difficult.
"What are you going to do with that pot of white peony?" Li Qiaodan quickly changed the subject; his actual situation wasn't much better than the twins'.
"If it dies here, there's nothing we can do!" The other plant by the window was a daphne branch that Albert got from Hagrid. Daphne is an herbaceous plant, and if you bury its branches in soil and take good care of it, it's not too difficult to replant new daphne.
However, Dictamnus dasycarpus is easily affected by the weather. If it is not transplanted into a greenhouse or placed in a warmer place in winter, it will easily wither.
In fact, Albert wasn't very confident that he could keep the white succulent alive in the winter.
...
As December progressed, the weather grew increasingly cold.
Although a roaring fire burned in the Gryffindor common room, the windswept corridors were made even colder by the snow. The windowpanes rattled in the fierce wind and snow, forcing everyone to wrap themselves up even more tightly in their clothes.
Christmas is approaching, and everyone is looking forward to the holiday.
However, professors subconsciously assign students a lot of homework.
"Are you trying to ruin my Christmas holiday?!" Looking at the rapidly increasing amount of homework on the parchment, Li Qiaodan once again threw the quill pen on the table.
"Just accept your fate. You have to do it anyway, or when you come back from the holidays, the professors can take turns putting you in solitary confinement." Albert put away the parchment, having to admit that the amount of homework for the Christmas holidays was indeed considerable, and even he couldn't finish it all in a short time.
"Don't bring this up, you're a monster." Li Qiaodan leaned back in his armchair.
Today, all the students in third grade and above went to Hogsmeade Village; otherwise, they wouldn't have had the opportunity to comfortably use the common room.
"Albert!" George's voice trembled slightly as he pointed to the front page of the Daily Prophet and urged, "Look at this, you all need to look at this!"
"What's wrong?" Fred asked listlessly. "What big news is in the Daily Prophet?"
"Mirison Bagno has decided to retire in February, and his successor has been confirmed as Connelly Fudge." George's breathing became rapid.
"Connelly Fudge?" Fred repeated, paused for a moment, then his voice suddenly rose eight octaves. "You mean…Connelly Fudge?"
"What's wrong? Is there something wrong with Cornelius Fudge?" Li Qiaodan looked at the twins with a puzzled expression, then suddenly realized, "Wait, Cornelius Fudge seems to be..."
The three of them turned around in unison, looking at Albert with strange expressions. Upon seeing this report, they suddenly remembered something: meeting Albert on the Hogwarts Express...
"I remember…" George said, his words slurred.
"…You seem to have spent 25 Gallons on pressure…" Fred finished his sentence.
"I'm betting Cornelius Fudge will become the next Minister of Magic!" Jordan Lee's eyes widened.
At that moment, all three of them gaped open, staring at Albert in shock.
"I do remember that," Albert nodded. "Back then, I even asked you if you wanted to participate in the prediction contest."
"My heart...it hurts so much." Fred clutched his chest, his breathing becoming rapid. If only he had...watched Galon slip through his fingers, the feeling would have been awful, utterly heart-wrenching...
"What are the odds for Connelly Fudge?" Li Jordan suddenly asked.
"I remember it was about four times."
"25 Galleons is... 100 Galleons!" Li Qiaodan's breathing became heavier and heavier, like an old ox panting.
"100 Galleons," the twins murmured, their eyes glazed over.
100 Galleons—this huge sum of money was something none of them had ever even dreamed of.
"Like I said, my luck is usually not too bad." Albert winked at the three of them and said, "But did the Daily Prophet mention when the money would be paid?"
"Well... it shouldn't be too late. I think the contest will end when Cornelius Fudge announces his appointment as the next Minister of Magic. They should tally the results and award prizes to the winners very quickly."
Albert nodded and said that there was no need to worry about money for the time being.
To be honest, he didn't like asking his family for money to buy things; it wasn't a pleasant feeling to ask someone for money.