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anwhile, Ron, still unwilling to give up, opened another box. This ti, he pulled out a slender, flexible, sinewy object that shimred with a strange luster.
"What's this now? A new kind of snack?" he muttered, curiously sniffing it before starting to raise it to his mouth.
"Wait!" Hermione stopped him just in ti, snatching it from his hand. She examined it carefully for a mont, then let out a sigh of relief and placed it back in his palm.
"An Occamy spinal cord!" she said, pointing to the faint spiral patterns along the sinew. "Professor Kettleburn taught us how to recognize these in the Care of Magical Creatures class."
"What… what's it for?" Ron asked blankly, clearly having no mory of the lesson.
"Were you sleepwalking through class?" Hermione's eyes widened as she stared at him in disbelief.
Harry and Ron exchanged a quick glance and, in silent agreent, said nothing.
Hermione's glare instantly shifted from one to both of them.
"Occamies are extrely magical creatures; they can change their size to fit the space they're in. Wizards in North Arica sotis hunt them and use their spinal cords to make wands—but that's illegal!"
"Uh… then this…" Ron looked down at the translucent sinew in his hand. "It's not illegal, is it?"
"Don't worry," Hermione said confidently. "Hunting wild Occamies is illegal, but their spinal cords can still be legally traded in the magical materials market. And I've heard that wands made with Occamy spinal cords are especially effective in Transfiguration!"
"But what use is it to ?" Ron still looked confused.
"Umm.. Sell it," Hermione suggested. "It's definitely worth a lot of money. You can ask at Mr. Ollivander's wand shop; sothing like this should be quite rare in Europe."
"Really?" At the ntion of "worth a lot of money" and "rare," Ron's eyes instantly lit up. "So… I can get a new wand?"
He turned the precious Occamy spinal cord over in his hands, his fingertips feeling its cool, smooth, resilient texture, as though he could already hear the pleasant clinking of Galleons.
"Thank you for the reminder, Hermione! I'll go to Diagon Alley tomorrow!"
Lowering his voice in excitent, his eyes sparkled as he already began imagining the design of his new wand.
"Don't get too excited," Hermione said calmly, though her gaze was once again drawn to the boxes on the tree. "That's only if you even have the chance to go to Diagon Alley, and if Mr. Ollivander is actually willing to offer a good price."
"He will!" Ron, on the other hand, was brimming with confidence. He carefully tucked the spinal cord deep into his pocket, patting it firmly for good asure. "This is a rare item! Oh—Harry, do you want to try your luck again?"
He turned to Harry, who had been quietly watching.
Harry shook his head, his eyes drifting to the excited first-years tearing open boxes.
"No. I think my 'luck' has probably run out."
He rembered the things he had opened earlier—a biting button, a notebook with a cover that constantly shifted its patterns, and a small packet of candies said to make people burp colorful bubbles.
As they had observed, the items being opened later were indeed increasingly… ordinary—or rather, peculiar.
"Look," Hermione nudged Ron and Harry lightly with her elbow, lowering her voice, "so people only opened one, but it seed to be sothing they truly liked. And those who opened several…"
She gestured with her chin toward a few older students who looked disappointed with the pile of trinkets in their hands—dancing rubber ducks, whistles that imitated bird calls but off-key. "The items they got later were clearly not as thoughtful as the earlier ones."
"This tree is really clever," Ron muttered. "It knows who's greedy."
"Perhaps it's not cleverness," Harry mused, "but rather a better understanding of what 'the true desire of the heart' is."
A silvery, ethereal voice suddenly spoke up behind them: "Actually, what's hanging on the tree aren't boxes, but many little sun-eggs!"
"Sun-eggs?" Ron looked bewildered. "What are sun-eggs?"
Luna tilted her head, her dreamy eyes fixed on the magical tree. "They're hatching people's wishes… but so wishes are tangled by Blibbering Humdingers. That's why the things that hatch are so strange."
With that, she drifted away like a breeze, Ginny walking beside her and smiling as she shared the candies from her gift box, leaving the trio staring at one another.
"Uh… alright." Ron shrugged. "Looks like Ginny really did make a new friend."
Then his attention shifted back to the "Galleons" in his pocket.
The gift boxes on the tree seed inexhaustible; whenever one was taken, another imdiately appeared on the branch. But the more boxes a person opened, the less impressive the items they received seed to beco.
Still, students eagerly crowded around the tree, curiously watching what treasures the newly arrived young wizards would discover inside their boxes.
anwhile, at the professors' table, Professor Flitwick was speaking quietly with Sagres.
"Those trees… they use Legilincy, don't they?" Professor Flitwick asked with curiosity.
"Only so vague, simple probing," Sagres replied softly, "just enough to see what the children truly desire in their hearts."
"What a clever thod." Flitwick praised sincerely.
"You taught in my fifth year," Sagres said with a faint smile. "I only made a few modifications."
"Ah, I rember now…" Professor Flitwick suddenly realized, setting down his glass of eggnog. "Seven Exquisite Applications of Common Charms!"
"Exactly." Sagres nodded. "I also incorporated the principles of so advanced spells, and the practical effect turned out even better than I expected."
"Oh, Sagres, you must have encountered many difficulties…"
Professor Flitwick's voice trembled slightly, carrying a trace of emotion. "When I was young, I too dread of writing a monograph on this… Unfortunately, I didn't have your talent or perseverance, and in the end, I gave it up."
"It's not too late now, Professor Flitwick…" Sagres looked at him and said earnestly, "The best ti to plant a tree was ten years ago; the second-best ti is now."
"You're right, Sagres…" Professor Flitwick sighed, his small shoulders seeming to slump. "But with these old bones of mine, I really don't have the courage to pick up the pen again."
"Don't you want to leave behind a book with your na on it?" Sagres gently countered, his usually plain tone carrying rare encouragent. "A monograph written by you, filled with your wisdom?"
"A monograph…"
Professor Flitwick repeated softly, his voice tinged with regret. "Yes, what a tempting thought. But I'm not like you; most of my life I've spent explaining other people's spells to students…"
Yet in an instant, a bright spark lit in his voice again. "But to see you put those theories and ideas from parchnt fully into practice—that makes more gratified than if I had written several books myself. My ideas may be outdated now…"
"Don't say that, Professor…" Sagres bowed his head slightly, his voice gentle and sincere. "Without your inspiration and guidance back then, this tree wouldn't exist today. You not only taught what magic is—you taught the very essence of magic."
"The essence of magic…"
Professor Flitwick murmured the words, his small body straightening, tears welling in his eyes—this ti tears of pure pride and joy.
He quickly picked up a napkin and, almost imperceptibly, dabbed at the corners of his eyes.
"You're right, Sagres, it's the essence! What we pursue isn't dazzling skill, but an understanding of the power that flows through all things—and using it to create…"
He looked at the shimring magic tree in the center of the Great Hall, endlessly producing surprises, and at the pure joy, curiosity, and occasional confusion on the faces of the young wizards gathered beneath it. A heartfelt, deeply satisfied smile spread across his face.
Professor Flitwick's voice regained its usual vitality, growing louder. "This is the best Christmas gift, Sagres! For all of us!"
The gift boxes on the magic tree continued to form and open silently, carrying the clear or hidden wishes of the young hearts, quietly casting a wondrous glow throughout the Great Hall.
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