Harry's and Ron's Gift

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Until Christmas Day, Harry and Ron couldn't believe that they had not only discovered who Nicolas Flamel was but had also exchanged a few words with him! It felt like an extraordinary achievement, especially without Hermione around to guide them.

"Ron, do you have any idea what Mr. Flamel meant when he talked about the Philosopher's Stone?" Harry asked, sitting cross-legged on the dormitory floor, surrounded by a pile of unopened gifts. He turned toward Ron, hoping for insight. "I mean, you're from a wizarding family, so you should know more about these things than I do."

"Don't start with all that pure-blood nonsense, Harry!" Ron retorted, looking mildly offended. "That's the kind of thing Malfoy would say, and you know how much I hate him!"

As if remembering something amusing, Ron burst into laughter. "Speaking of Malfoy, do you remember him bawling his eyes out and being carried off by his father on the last day of term? Hahaha! The great Draco Malfoy, crying like a baby!"

Harry couldn't help but laugh at the memory, and the two of them spent a good few minutes laughing until their sides hurt.

When the laughter subsided, Harry tried to steer the conversation back. "So... you don't know what the Philosopher's Stone is?"

Ron sighed. "No idea. We'll have to wait for Hermione to come back. She's read enough books to know what it is."

Harry nodded. "I guess we'll have to wait."

His gaze then drifted back to the mountain of presents in front of him, and he hesitated before speaking. "Do you think... we should get Professor Dracula something for Christmas? I mean, he's helped us so much. It feels wrong not to."

"You definitely should!" Ron agreed, nodding enthusiastically. "Especially since he saved you during that Quidditch match."

Having grown up with the Dursleys, Harry had never been able to participate in the joy of exchanging Christmas gifts. But now, at Hogwarts, with newfound friends and his parents' wealth in Gringotts, this Christmas felt warmer and more meaningful than any he'd ever known. He wanted to make it special—and expressing gratitude to Professor Dracula felt like the right thing to do.

"Ron, you've got to help me figure out what to get him!" Harry pleaded, shaking Ron's shoulder. "But... what could we possibly give someone like him? Someone as powerful as Professor Dracula probably has everything he wants."

"Don't overthink it, Harry. Gifts are more about thought than value," Ron said, looking surprisingly confident. "Think about it—what does Professor Dracula like?"

"Um... like leaning against the wall and looking cool?" Harry said, frowning as he tried to think harder.

"That's not what I meant!" Ron exclaimed, shaking his head. He waved his hands in frustration as if Harry was missing something obvious. "I mean specific habits—things he does all the time without thinking. You know, like quirks!"

Harry frowned, thinking hard. "He... um... always has a goblet or a lollipop?"

"Exactly!" Ron grinned. "That means he loves wine and lollipops! It's simple."

"Is it really that simple?" Harry asked, feeling skeptical. Professor Dracula's imposing and mysterious presence didn't quite align with something as ordinary as lollipops.

"Trust me! Wizards always have weird quirks," Ron said confidently. "Take Dumbledore, for example. My mum once told us he loves sweets so much that he has to visit St. Mungo's every year to fix his teeth!"

Harry chuckled, finding the idea both ridiculous and oddly believable. "Alright, Ron, I trust you. You're in charge of the gift!" He pulled out a handful of Galleons from his pocket and handed them to Ron. "Buy something nice for the Professor. If there's anything left, you can get some snacks for yourself."

Ron's eyes widened at the sight of the gold coins, and he nodded eagerly. "You've got it, Harry. I won't let you down!"

Without wasting a moment, Ron dashed out of the dormitory, eager to write to the shops in Hogsmeade and place an order. Meanwhile, Harry returned to the pile of gifts, opening them one by one.

When he reached the last package, Harry paused, his curiosity piqued by its unusual weight and texture. He unwrapped it carefully and let out a small gasp.

A shimmering, silver-gray liquid spilled onto the floor, pooling into a radiant, glistening mass.

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By noon, before the Christmas feast began, Dracula received a neatly wrapped gift box delivered from Hogsmeade. He raised an eyebrow at the handwriting scrawled across it:

Merry Christmas! Professor, here's your favorite wine and lollipops. – Harry and Ron

"These kids have potential," Dracula mused, smirking as he opened the package. "Saves me a trip to restock."

However, as soon as the contents were revealed, Dracula's expression darkened. Inside the box was a bottle of vodka—strong, cheap, and lacking finesse—nestled among an assortment of bright, sunshine-orange lollipops.

For a moment, he stared at the gift in silence. Then, with an exasperated sigh, he waved his hand. The box rewrapped itself, and a bat appeared to carry it out of the window. Moments later, it landed on the desk in Dumbledore's office.

Still unsatisfied, Dracula swept out of his own office and stormed down to Quirrell's quarters.

"Assistant Quirrell," he said in a dangerously calm voice. "When term resumes, I expect you to find the holiday homework of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley and grade it using the strictest standards."

Quirrell, pale and nervous as always, nodded quickly. "Y-yes, Professor Dracula."

Satisfied, Dracula vanished in a swirl of his cloak, leaving behind only the faint scent of aged wine.

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