Unlike the Halloween feast, the most lavish Christmas banquet was held at noon.
Harry and Ron walked into the Great Hall, stunned by the magnificent sight of the Christmas feast. The tables were laden with a hundred plump roast turkeys, mountains of roast beef and boiled potatoes, large platters of delicious sausages, bowls of buttered peas, and silver gravy boats filled with thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce.
Every few steps along the tables, piles of colourful wizard crackers were placed on the edge.
Fred and George were already playing with the crackers. With a loud BANG!, a cannon-like explosion echoed as a cloud of blue smoke engulfed the twins. They laughed happily, thoroughly enjoying themselves. Harry and Ron could faintly hear one of the twins talking about his grand ambition to one day create a firework that could engulf the entire Hogwarts castle.
Harry's gaze passed through the blue smoke created by Fred and George, and he looked up at the professors' table. He saw Dumbledore at the head of the table, having transformed his pointed wizard's hat into a bonnet adorned with festive flowers. Professor Flitwick had just told him a joke, and Dumbledore was chuckling heartily.
Dracula, on the other hand, was swirling the wine in his glass, looking in Harry and Ron's direction with a distinctly mischievous expression.
'Ron, why do I feel like Professor Dracula is looking at us strangely?' Harry was a little unnerved by Dracula's gaze and whispered to Ron, who was busy gnawing on a chicken leg.
Ron, his mouth full of chicken, mumbled, 'It is nothing. He must just really like the gift we sent him and wants to thank us.'
Hearing Ron's words, Harry suspiciously glanced at Dracula again, only to find that he had already turned his gaze away.
'Maybe you are right,' Harry nodded and grabbed a chicken leg for himself.
'Professor Dracula, why are you not wearing a Christmas hat?'
At the front of the hall, at the professors' table, Dumbledore—wearing his flower-adorned bonnet—looked at Dracula with a smile.
Professor McGonagall nodded in agreement, her tall, black pointed hat swaying gently with her movements.
'No, thank you. I am not very interested in Christmas,' Dracula shrugged, his attention focused on a bowl of bright red pudding in front of him.
'Come on, Professor Dracula! You should always try to be more in tune with the Christmas spirit!' Professor Flitwick stood on a high chair and helped Dracula select a cracker that he knew contained a paper hat.
As Professor Flitwick waved his wand, a thick cloud of pink smoke erupted in front of the professors' table. A pink paper hat, covered with small white hearts, appeared in the smoke.
'Oh, what a vibrant colour scheme!' Professor Flitwick seemed surprised by his luck and looked at Dracula. 'Would you consider wearing this hat as a Christmas hat?'
Looking at the offensively pink paper hat, Dracula waved his hand dismissively.
'There is no need. I have thought about it carefully, and I feel like I actually can have a hat.'
Then, Dracula reached out his hand towards the entrance of the Great Hall—
'Accio!'
In a moment, a brown leather pointed hat that looked brand new flew in from the entrance of the hall and landed directly in Dracula's hand.
Seeing this hat, Dumbledore was slightly stunned and then showed a helpless expression.
'Ahhh, ahhh, do not let me know who it was! Flying from the 8th floor to the 1st floor—my acrophobia is about to kick in!' the brand new brown pointed hat loudly complained. It claimed that it must report the wizard who had so casually used the Summoning Charm to bring it over to the Headmaster.
Then, it saw Dracula looking at it with a smile that was not quite a smile.
'Ahem, Lord Count, it is you!' the Sorting Hat said with a sheepish, almost sycophantic, smile. 'What was I just saying? Oh right! I was saying that the gentleman who can call me from the 8th floor of the castle to the 1st floor has a truly high level of magic. I must report the truth to the Headmaster so that he can be given due importance!'
'You are quick to react,' Dracula said playfully.
'Of course! I am a magical hat that integrates the will of the 4 Founders and possesses self-awareness!' The Sorting Hat's body tilted back, as if it were proudly raising its head.
Hearing the Sorting Hat's voice, the other professors looked over.
'Is this the Sorting Hat?!' Professor Flitwick, who was sitting next to Dracula, widened his eyes in shock. 'Merlin's beard! How did it become so clean? I cannot recognise it at all!'
'Has this hat been reborn? There are not even any patches anymore?' Professor Kettleburn, leaning on his cane, walked over, his wooden leg making a da-da-da sound, as he curiously looked at the brand new Sorting Hat.
'…'
Hearing the professors' shocked words, the Sorting Hat's body slumped down again.
'Wuu wuu wuu, those were all symbols of my many vicissitudes of life. Now, what difference is there between me and those ordinary hats…'
'Quiet down, hat,' Dracula grabbed the tip of the Sorting Hat and pulled it up. 'Christmas is here, but I did not buy a Christmas hat, so I have to use you as a substitute.'
'Wait, I am a magical hat! How can you compare me to those ordinary Christmas hats?! And you can obviously conjure one yourself…' Just then, the Sorting Hat saw the cold, dark flames dancing on Dracula's fingers.
It immediately changed its tune. '…But of course, the one conjured by oneself is not professional enough. It is my honour to be used as a Christmas hat by you!'
Only then did Dracula withdraw the flames from his fingers. He put the Sorting Hat on his head and, for the first time, seemed to blend into the Christmas atmosphere.
Just then, the Sorting Hat began to mutter, its voice echoing slightly in Dracula's mind.
'Hmm, difficult, very difficult. I see… there is enough…'
'…What are you muttering about?' Dracula interrupted the Sorting Hat's words, frowning as he asked.
'Uh…' Only then did the Sorting Hat realise that this was not a sorting ceremony but a Christmas banquet. 'Sorry, Lord Count. Occupational hazard, occupational hazard…'
Mentioning the issue of occupational hazards, Dracula suddenly became interested in what the Sorting Hat had wanted to say.
'When you were having an occupational hazard just now, which house did you want to sort me into? Just read it out directly,' he said to the Sorting Hat. 'I want to see which founder my thinking is most similar to.'
'This… this is not good,' the Sorting Hat said, its voice filled with difficulty.
'It is okay. Say it. Say whatever you want,' Dracula comforted, a dangerous curiosity in his voice.
'Alright then.'
The Sorting Hat took a deep breath, brewing the emotions from the very depths of its brim. And then it shouted, its voice magically amplified for all to hear—
'AZKABAN!'
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