On Christmas Eve, Hogwarts went on holiday.
Students could either go home to spend the holidays with family or remain at school.
Arthur and Hermione both chose to return home.
Hermione, after months away, dearly missed her parents.
Arthur, on the other hand, had originally planned to stay at Hogwarts—Christmas night, with fewer people around, would've been the perfect time to move against Voldemort.
But Hermione insisted on dragging him along, and the Grangers had written warmly in their letter, urging him to spend Christmas with them.
So he agreed. Still, Arthur wasn't one to leave loose ends: he sent out a projection of himself disguised as an owl, nesting among the school's owls to await opportunities.
The two packed their things and headed to the Great Hall to say goodbye to Harry and Ron.
Originally, Ron was supposed to go home too.
But his parents suddenly wrote, saying they'd decided to visit his older brother Charlie in Romania—the dragon keeper.
Which basically meant: the parents went traveling, leaving Ron behind.
So Ron had no choice but to stay and keep Harry company.
Harry was delighted. Spending Christmas with his best mate—what could be better?
When Hermione walked in, she immediately saw Harry and Ron hunched over Wizard's Chess.
"My goodness, you're still not tired of that game?" she sighed.
Ever since playing on the iPad her cousin gave her, she found Wizard's Chess both brutish and boring.
What's that—killing zombies is brutish too?
Please, she was defending Dave's garden!
Besides, the iPad could do far more than games. She even used it for classes now—no need for heavy books, and she could take notes directly on it.
"What else are we supposed to do?" Ron shot back, eyes glued to the board. "We don't even have enough people for a snowball fight. At least here I can still win."
As a rare talent in Wizard's Chess, Ron took pride in it—especially since in academics he lagged behind not only Hermione and Arthur, but even Harry.
"Maybe you could try this instead?"
Arthur pulled out two sleek books and handed them to Ron and Harry.
These were newly copied "magic book" devices—their iPad equivalents. Of course, Arthur had stripped out the scanning function.
What remained: games, messaging, and note-taking.
Games and messaging spoke for themselves; notes were for classes.
Only his and Hermione's had the scanning function—hers filled with material Arthur had sent after secretly sweeping the Restricted Section.
If Dumbledore ever discovered students carrying such a tool, he might piece things together too quickly.
"Come on, we don't want to read books over Christmas," Harry groaned.
"This isn't just a book," Arthur explained. "It can take notes, send messages to others with the same book—and yes, it plays games."
That perked them up immediately. Both boys knew Arthur had invested in the Weasley twins and often tinkered with alchemy, producing all sorts of bizarre but effective gadgets. But this? They hadn't expected him to make something like this.
Arthur, if he'd known their thoughts, would've scoffed.
Building a note-taking and messaging device with alchemy was easy enough for him now.
The tricky part was the games—far beyond his own skill set. That was purely the system porting over a tech-side product and letting him duplicate instances.
Harry and Ron, meanwhile, quickly opened Plants vs. Zombies and were instantly hooked by the colorful art style.
They were so absorbed that when Arthur and Hermione said goodbye, the boys barely looked up, absentmindedly nodding.
Hermione reminded them to look into Nicolas Flamel during the break. Whether they'd remember, with zombies to fend off, was another matter.
After the train ride, the pair stepped off the platform and immediately spotted the Grangers waiting.
"Mom! Dad!" Hermione cried, sprinting toward them. Months of separation, and the longing could no longer be contained—she was ready to fling herself into their arms.
Arthur, watching from behind, felt a pang of emotion.
In the original story, Hermione's aloofness and superiority early on may well have been just armor. After all, she was only eleven, thrust into a strange magical world alone. Acting proud was a way of protecting herself.
Now, with him at her side, she didn't need to keep up the façade. But her love for her parents remained unchanged.
And yet… things went unexpectedly.
Mrs. Granger, hearing Hermione's call, spread her arms wide, running forward as well. But then—she swept right past Hermione, enveloping Arthur in a hug.
"Darling! Auntie missed you so much!"
Hermione: ???
So… love does fade?
Thankfully, Mr. Granger stepped forward to embrace his daughter.
Still, Hermione muttered, disgruntled, "Mom, I'm your daughter."
"Hmph! And whose fault is that? I asked you to write to me every week. Who kept her word? Only Arthur did! If not for his letters telling us about you, we'd have thought he was our child!" Mrs. Granger scolded.
Hermione shot Arthur a glare that said, Why didn't you remind me?
He raised his eyebrows: You told me to write them for you when you were buried in books, remember?
She glared harder: I'll remember this grudge.
Unfortunately, Mrs. Granger noticed the glare.
"Oh? Glaring at your cousin now, are you?"
Hermione got another round of scolding.
After months of ruling the roost at Hogwarts, she returned home to a sobering truth: in this household, Arthur held the higher ground.
Mr. Granger also gave Arthur a hearty hug. No words needed—men understood each other.
The four left the station laughing and chatting, radiating a warmth that made passersby envious.
Back home, Arthur went straight to the kitchen to help.
He even brought out some special ingredients from Hogwarts—herbs from his Zen Garden, which he'd discovered made excellent vegetables when stir-fried. The garden produced them in such abundance that the soil itself was enriched whenever excess herbs were reabsorbed.
He still remembered Snape's barely concealed envy when Arthur had used one of those pristine herbs in class. If not for Arthur's flawless brewing that day, Gryffindor would've lost at least ten points.
Since then, Arthur had often gone to Snape with advanced potion questions, far beyond his year level. And Snape—so long as Arthur left behind one of his superior herbs—answered them patiently.
Their relationship had gradually thawed. In fact, Snape had even begun entertaining the idea of taking Arthur on as an apprentice.
A wizard could have many students, but an apprentice—someone to inherit their life's work—was rare.
Still, Snape couldn't quite overcome his bitterness. After all… Arthur was a Gryffindor.
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