December arrived quickly, and as usual, Professor McGonagall began collecting the list of students who would be staying at Hogwarts over Christmas. After much deliberation, Glenn and Hermione finally decided...
...to go home for Christmas.
Yes, that's right. Under Glenn's persistent persuasion, he finally convinced Hermione to abandon her idea of staying at Hogwarts to busy herself with Ginny's affairs.
"We're still in the process of building our strength. It doesn't matter where we study to improve ourselves. So, given that, why not go home and spend time with our parents?" Glenn's reasoning was thorough and convincing, utilizing every ounce of his modest literary eloquence.
"Hmm…"
The weather had turned cold, and Hermione, still a bit groggy from a nap, seemed hesitant, her quill hovering indecisively over the parchment.
"Every task requires a balance of work and rest, Hermione. You should understand this principle," Glenn, the training fanatic, said with a straight face, uttering a truth even he didn't fully believe, in an attempt to sway Hermione's thoughts.
"Hmm…"
"Lately, I've been spending long hours immersed in memories, trying to extract the contents of the Sacred Book. I do feel like I haven't been able to concentrate or study efficiently."
"Well then, let's go home for the Christmas holidays."
Hermione made up her mind, and her quill finally fell, signing her name on the form.
Having successfully persuaded the young girl, Glenn took the initiative to collect her form after she signed it, intending to submit it to Professor McGonagall. However, this unusual behavior drew a suspicious look from Hermione.
She raised an eyebrow, looking at Glenn with a peculiar expression, as if trying to discern something from his face.
Something about Glenn felt off.
But she couldn't quite put her finger on it.
Naturally, Glenn didn't reveal anything unusual. When Professor McGonagall passed by, he handed over their holiday plans.
Hermione, who had been watching Glenn closely, found nothing and finally withdrew her gaze. Bored, she began channeling a small portion of the Sacred Energy within her into her fingers, poking Glenn's side now and then to dissipate the excess negative emotions generated by magic within him.
…
Poke~
...
Poke~
"That tickles," Glenn said, finally unable to bear it. He grabbed Hermione's small hand, knowing full well that she was doing this because she knew he couldn't stand the sensation of tickling.
Yes, tickling was one of the few things Glenn couldn't tolerate. Compared to this strange, indescribable sensation, Glenn would rather endure pain than experience it.
"Are you bored?" Glenn asked, feeling Hermione's small hand occasionally wriggle in his grasp.
Unbeknownst to him, this was a common symptom among students, one that often appeared just before the holidays.
This condition had a fictional name invented by the author—
—Pre-Holiday Syndrome.
Even someone as studious as Hermione wasn't entirely immune to its effects.
It seemed that during this period, with all the mental exertion she had poured into Ginny's affairs, Hermione's subconscious had been sending her a constant message: "I want to rest, I want a holiday, I want to clock out."
"Not at all~" Hermione tilted her head slightly, her gaze wandering, but her hands and feet didn't stop fidgeting beneath the thick layers of clothing they were both wearing.
Clearly, she was bored out of her mind.
At this moment, Hermione reminded Glenn of Crookshanks, locked in their dormitory and unable to go out to play.
"There's an event tonight. Dumbledore mentioned it to me earlier." Caught off guard, Hermione's small hand slipped through Glenn's fingers, but she continued her relentless attacks. Since Glenn had nothing better to do, he decided to entertain her with a game of offense and defense. "You'll probably enjoy it, and it's something that will become a permanent fixture at Hogwarts."
Hermione poked; Glenn blocked.
Hermione poked again; Glenn blocked again.
…There was a peculiar feeling to it.
Glenn felt like he was playing with a kitten.
"Hmm?" Hermione's attention was successfully drawn by Glenn's words, but her hands didn't stop, as if she had become engrossed in the game.
Suddenly, she felt a surge of competitiveness. Since Glenn had started intercepting her hand, she hadn't managed to poke him even once.
Perhaps her curiosity was piqued, and her mind, sluggish from the cold and her nap, began to recover.
"An event in the evening, ruling out Quidditch first. Since it's not a holiday, the chances of a sudden banquet are slim, so let's exclude that for now."
"This event will become a permanent fixture at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore must be aware of it. Moreover, he specifically 'informed' Glenn about it, which means it's related to him."
"And the only task Dumbledore has assigned to Glenn recently is one."
After thinking for an indeterminate fraction of a second, Hermione blurted out the correct answer.
"It's the Duelling Club, isn't it? It's finally starting?"
Now fully awake, Hermione gave Glenn the impression of a kitten sitting obediently in front of him, its tail playfully swishing back and forth—except Hermione was using her hands instead.
"Dumbledore spent some time verifying the safety and stability of the alchemical tools I made. And because of the attacks on young wizards by the Heir of Slytherin, the event was delayed repeatedly," Glenn nodded and explained.
Hermione's current boredom probably also stemmed partly from her anticipation of the Duelling Club's long-awaited launch.
"Hmph, I can't wait any longer!" The young girl said excitedly, her attacks becoming more frequent.
"But aren't you planning to join the Duelling Club with me? The tools used in this event were practically made by you. Don't you think it's meaningful?" Hermione suddenly asked, still holding a grudge against Glenn's decision.
How could anyone not be interested in something as exciting as duelling other young wizards?
Hermione couldn't understand. Opportunities to gain experience through combat were rare at Hogwarts.
In her eyes, Glenn, the battle maniac, should be the most interested in such things.
Glenn said nothing, simply shaking his head.
To him, compared to the pressure from Snape, the dark wizards lurking in Knockturn Alley, and the dangerous creatures in the Forbidden Forest, the sheltered young wizards at Hogwarts posed no threat whatsoever.
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