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Chapter 343: The Camellia Has Bloomed
🕑 Added 2025-04-12 18:38:17 +0000 UTCMid-December arrived in a hush.
On an otherwise uneventful weekend, a gentle drizzle mingled with the faintest trace of snowflakes, drifting quietly through the air.
Perhaps it was too early in the season, or maybe the rain diluted the snowfall—but the snowflakes never stayed. Each one would vanish before it could even touch the ground, melting into the cold mist as though they'd never existed.
...
Though Christmas was drawing near, the overcast skies and the damp, bone-chilling cold cast a pall over Hogwarts.
The young witches and wizards inside the castle had all but slipped into a state of hibernation. Everything felt sluggish and still.
Crackling fireplaces and the warm glow of common rooms became havens of comfort. Unless absolutely necessary, no one willingly left their cozy sanctuaries.
At least, that was true for most of the castle.
...
Outside the castle's main tower, within an abandoned greenhouse, a different sort of scene was unfolding.
"Timmy, Nilu, add this photo to the next page. Make sure to mark it with a special font—something bold, eye-catching," Draco instructed, seated behind a broad oak desk.
The once-forgotten space had been transformed into a place of elegance and activity. The magical lanterns lining the walls numbered at least a dozen, casting a warm, amber light that softened the gloom of winter.
"On it, boss!" came a chirpy voice.
A small figure—no more than a foot tall—scampered out from the back room. A lively little automaton dashed across the room, snatched the photo from Draco's desk, and zipped back to its workstation, closing the door behind it.
Draco glanced sideways at another desk. A polished brass nameplate rested on top:
Deputy Editor (Special Correspondent)
"Colin, I've approved another five Galleons for your expenses. Try to dig up something interesting—Potter gossip's old news now."
Colin Creevey blinked and looked up from his notepad, rubbing his tired eyes. After a pause, he gave a helpless sigh.
"I'd love to, but there's nothing happening lately. It's like the whole school fell asleep. Unless we want to run with some scandalous headline about Miss Delacour's love life..."
Colin felt the pressure mounting. Ever since the recent storm of events had passed, the castle had grown unnervingly quiet. There were no more secrets to uncover, no dramatic twists to report.
...
The memories still lingered. Just a couple of weeks ago, everything had been in chaos.
Harry Potter had been cleared of all wrongdoing, the truth about the Unforgivable Curse finally revealed.
According to the Daily Prophet, the real culprit was a mysterious dark wizard who first attacked Barty Crouch Sr. and then used him to curse Harry from behind the scenes.
The explanation sounded almost farcical—but no one dared question it.
Why? Because Barty Crouch Sr., the Head of International Magical Cooperation, had suffered serious injuries and submitted his resignation not long after. His departure wasn't something that could be brushed off.
After all, there were only seven department heads in the Ministry. Each held considerable power, rivaling even that of the Minister in some respects.
No one would risk that kind of political upheaval just to defend Harry Potter—not even if he was the Boy Who Lived.
...
"Still a shame no one ever confirmed the truth about Barty Jr.," Colin muttered, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.
That controversial article The Mask of Hypocrisy—the one he'd written—had stirred a storm at Hogwarts, but the Ministry had ignored it entirely. Not even a public statement.
From the other side of the room, Draco heard Colin's murmuring and chuckled softly. He couldn't help but shake his head.
"Let it go, Colin. No one's going to go after old man Crouch now, not when he's stepped down. And honestly, you think the Ministry wants more trouble?"
Even if Colin couldn't see the full picture, Draco could. Barely.
Truth be told, even his father, Lucius Malfoy, was struggling to understand the recent political undercurrents.
The past fortnight had been unusually strange. Nothing concrete, just... unease.
The last letter Draco received from home had contained only one line:
Stay close to Ino. Strengthen that relationship.
He knew it came from a place of concern—but still, the implication rubbed him the wrong way. Relationships built on strategy felt hollow.
So Draco had left that letter out in the open, right on his dormitory desk, a silent act of quiet defiance.
...
Knock knock knock!
A crisp knock broke his thoughts.
"Come in," he called.
The door swung open, revealing a blonde girl with twin ponytails bouncing with each step.
Draco recognized her immediately—Hannah from the Abbot family, a regular informant for the Hogwarts Chronicles Information Department.
"Got fresh gossip for you!" she said brightly, practically skipping into the room.
"Always a pleasure, Miss Abbot. Please, have a seat," Draco replied smoothly. He stood as she dropped onto the couch with zero ceremony, crossing her legs and striking a pose far more mature than her age warranted.
"Today's highlights: At 9:30 this morning, someone saw Ino and Granger meeting on the Astronomy Tower. Then at eleven, the Ravenclaw seventh-year prefect, Gugion, tried to send a love letter to Miss Delacour… but it got switched out somehow."
Her tone was casual, but her words were rapid. A nearby quill jotted it all down with enchanted efficiency.
...
ACHOO!
Ino sneezed, rubbing his irritated nose. Clearly, someone had been talking about him behind his back again.
There was nothing he could do about that—gossip was inevitable. Even Dumbledore had people whispering about him in dark corners. Unless Ino wanted to follow in Voldemort's footsteps and start cursing people for speaking his name, he'd just have to endure it.
Still, he hadn't forgotten why he was here.
Seated beneath a sprawling oak tree, Ino carefully sifted through a mess of gems laid out before him.
Christmas was approaching, and an offhand comment from Fred and George had stuck with him.
He planned to make something—something simple but meaningful: a pair of handcrafted straw rings, inlaid with gem fragments.
He'd once received a basket full of straw rings as a joke. Who would've guessed he'd one day be the one giving one away... let alone making it himself?
Fate had a curious sense of humor.
...
Beneath the ten-foot-tall oak tree, a heap of colorful gemstones shimmered under the pale sky. The sparkling stones seemed to echo the soft glow of the magical rivers winding through the heavens above.
After careful consideration, Ino selected two luminous stones: each one gleaming with a gentle, silvery hue.
Moonstones.
Or, as they were sometimes called, Lovers' Stones.
The name came from their soft glow and delicate appearance, representing purity, gentleness, and emotional clarity. When touched by light, they shimmered with a soft radiance—like moonlight captured in crystal.
With his materials chosen, Ian rose and headed toward the icy path leading out of the valley.
Soon, another tale would bloom—just in time for Christmas.
A crimson maple, covered in tiny stories. The lurking shadows of a giant serpent. And, at the heart of it all, a breathtaking blossom of frost.
It stood just two feet tall, but its petals unfurled like a flower in a porcelain teacup.
Deep blue stamens at the center, icy blue petals layered like silk.
Not only elegant—but quietly, exquisitely alive.
"A camellia..." Ino murmured, recognition lighting his eyes.
