Chapter 15
Gabin's life settled back into calm—perhaps even calmer than before.
Hermione seemed genuinely angry with him. She no longer saved him a seat in the library, no longer discussed problems with him in the Gryffindor common room.
She even stopped letting him proofread her History of Magic essays.
The only interaction left between them was a heavy, indignant huff whenever they passed each other—followed by her nose in the air and a dramatic turn as she marched away.
She looked exactly like a cat sulking at its owner—a fluffy brown Persian, perhaps.
Gabin didn't mind in the slightest. A little girl's tantrum wasn't going to ruin an adult's mood.
Besides, he wasn't wrong. Just because Snape looked sinister, acted suspiciously, and dressed like the villain in every story didn't automatically make him the bad guy.
For all anyone knew, he might be working undercover.
His routine stayed mostly the same: classes, spell practice in the Room of Requirement, reading in the library, and Forbidden Forest patrols.
The one change was that during practice, he began experimenting with new ways to apply spells—ideas born from his own reflections.
The troll fight had left quite an impression. It showed him his own shortcomings clearly.
There should have been easier, more efficient ways to handle it. Instead he'd burned through nearly all his magic just to bring the thing down. That was a lack of experience and creativity in spell use.
Compared to Hermione's pointed silence, Harry and Ron were still friendly enough to occasionally beg him to let them copy homework—especially History of Magic essays. They genuinely didn't know what to write half the time and were one step away from inventing alternate timelines just to fill the page. Every session looked like genuine suffering.
Unfortunately, most of the time they couldn't find Gabin anyway, so they had to muddle through on their own. The rare times they did catch him, Hermione would be nearby glaring daggers—and they'd end up finishing in miserable silence.
On top of that, Hermione now had them all hunting for information on Nicolas Flamel. Their already limited free time was further squeezed by forced reading of thick, boring books they had zero interest in.
"Those books are thick enough to build a castle wall with," Ron grumbled, but under Hermione's stern gaze he still cracked open yet another brick-sized volume and squinted through the dense text in search of anyone named Nicolas Flamel.
Luckily for Harry, Quidditch training gave him a legitimate excuse to escape some of the reading. Otherwise he might have needed thicker glasses by Christmas.
"Can't we just ask Gray? I swear he knows who Nicolas Flamel is—he reads all this stuff for fun." Ron muttered after yet another library encounter where they spotted Gabin finishing *Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century* and shelving it.
Hermione had immediately borrowed the same book and thrust it at Ron.
She herself was already buried in something twice as thick as a brick.
"No!" Hermione hissed through gritted teeth. "We're not asking him for help. We'll figure this out ourselves—prove we're right."
"And prove you're smarter than him, right?" Ron whispered under his breath.
Hermione heard it. Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
Ron immediately dropped his gaze and buried his face in the book again.
They helped her anyway—because only Hermione finished homework quickly, accurately, and was willing to check theirs, point out mistakes, and provide the correct answers.
Of course, if Gabin had ever offered to just let them copy, they'd have happily switched sides.
But most days they couldn't even find him. No one knew where he disappeared to.
Time passed quickly. Gabin noticed what Hermione's trio was up to, but when Harry and Ron shot him those desperate, pleading looks, he simply ignored them.
Reading more books was never a bad thing.
In fact, their reading volume over the past few weeks probably exceeded what they'd read in the entire previous year. This was a rare chance to build real knowledge. Gabin wasn't about to interrupt.
Besides, those books were interesting—like novels. He finished them in no time.
At least, that was how he saw it.
As Christmas drew closer, the weather turned steadily colder.
Snow began falling lightly around Hogwarts. It melted on contact with the ground, turning the lawns into a churned-up mess of mud and slush—like a swamp.
Gabin didn't particularly want to go outside in that, but he had no choice.
Christmas was approaching, and the custom here was to give friends gifts. He couldn't show up empty-handed. He needed to ask Hagrid to help him buy a few things.
Fortunately, his recent Forbidden Forest finds had earned him enough pocket money that he could actually afford small gifts.
Walking across the muddy lawns, the biting wind sliced straight through his robes. He pulled the fabric tighter around himself, trying to stay warmer.
For Professor Dumbledore—maybe a pair of wool socks. Wonder what color he likes.
Gabin thought as he yanked his foot out of yet another muddy hole.
Professor McGonagall—a cat toy wand? Then the next day she'd turn his left foot into a chew toy for stepping into class with the wrong one.
He shook his head, letting the cold wind blow the silly idea away.
Perhaps an elegant Eastern-style hair pin. It would suit her.
He nodded to himself—decision made. He just hoped it wasn't too expensive.
Professor Flitwick—a fine tall hat. Should come in useful.
Professor Snape… part of him wanted to gift a full chemistry lab set, but that was far too costly. A standard measuring flask would do.
Professor Sprout, Professor Sinistra, Madam Hooch, Professor Binns, Madam Pince…
And finally—Quirrell.
Gabin scratched his head. Honestly, he didn't want to give Quirrell anything. But skipping him while giving to every other professor would make him stand out.
The last thing he needed was Voldemort taking special notice.
A simple cross pendant should be safe enough.
He decided quickly.
Then the students.
Harry—Chocolate Frogs.
Ron—Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.
Seamus—Exploding Snap cards? No—Fizzing Whizbees or something explosive.
Neville—some Liquorice Wands.
Lavender, Dean, Parvati, and the rest—each a different sweet. He was sure they'd like them.
Even though he didn't talk much day-to-day, they were still housemates. Relations were friendly enough. Gabin wasn't arrogant or standoffish—just quiet. Not close friends, but normal classmates.
Over time, he'd actually gotten to know quite a few people.
Before he realized it, he'd reached Hagrid's hut.
Right—Hagrid's gift too. *A Guide to Dragon-Keeping* should be perfect. He'd probably use it.
Gabin knocked. A voice rumbled from inside.
And finally… what to get the little girl who was currently mad at him.