Christmas is a major holiday in the West. The celebrations typically last through the New Year, and for many in the West, Christmas essentially is their New Year.
For British wizards, it's much the sa. Like Muggles, they view Christmas as an important holiday and follow nearly identical traditions when celebrating it.
As for why wizards observe the holiday in the first place, that’s long been lost to ti. It certainly has nothing to do with Jesus—wizards don't believe in him. They put their faith in their wands instead.
Draco had always suspected that this so-called Christmas was probably sothing dread up by bored wizards—just like Halloween. After all, the Muggle-created tale of Santa Claus includes him suddenly appearing from the fireplace, much like a wizard.
Draco couldn’t help but wonder if that jolly old man with a white beard was just a wizard using Floo Powder...
...
Malfoy Manor.
As one of the few wealthy pure-blood families in the British wizarding world, the Malfoys owned a grand estate beyond what most people could even imagine—known to all wizards as Malfoy Manor.
Located in Wiltshire, England, the Manor looked like sothing out of a movie, a true noble's residence.
Beyond the imposing main building, the estate featured ticulously designed gardens, elegant fountains, and stone sculptures. White peacocks, magical creatures that only the truly wealthy could afford, road freely through the grounds.
The ornate wrought-iron gates gave visitors an eerie, otherworldly feeling as they passed through—as if walking through a veil of mist. It was said that unless you went through this mist, you’d never be able to find the Manor, let alone step inside.
And if soone tried to enter the mist without permission, they could end up lost in it forever.
It’s hard to imagine what living in a place like that would feel like. At a certain point, it's not just about wealth anymore...
Once inside, the luxury of the Malfoy family becos even more evident.
Opulent decor, lavish furnishings, marble fireplaces, and gilded mirrors. Almost every inch of the stone floor was covered by rich, ornate carpets. This was the imdiate impression upon entering the grand hall.
The only thing missing was a line of maids and a head housekeeper—but wizards didn’t need any of that to maintain such a vast estate.
Even so, the Manor didn’t give off the vibe of flashy new money.
The deep sense of history spoke of the legacy of an old, noble family.
And it served as a silent warning to any visitor—this was the Malfoy estate...
...
Having lived in the Manor for eleven years, it was only natural for Draco to return ho for Christmas.
Sure enough, the mont he stepped off the express train, his mother swept him into a tight embrace. Overjoyed, she didn’t waste a mont before whisking him straight ho.
Only in front of Draco did his mother act like a little girl who never grew up.
She saved her best side just for him.
“I knew you were coming back today, so I baked so cookies. Get changed and co down to eat them.”
...
Seeing the eager look on her face, Draco felt both touched and a little helpless—he was never all that fond of sweets.
Despite the presence of House-elves in the Manor, his mother clearly delighted in cooking herself. Just look at Goyle and Crabbe during their ti at Hogwarts—their faces had practically filled out from constantly eating what she made.
“I know. I’ll co down once I’m ready.”
Still, Draco had no intention of letting his mother down. With a wry smile, he nodded and headed upstairs.
Just as his figure disappeared around the bend of the staircase, the middle-aged wizard who had been sitting quietly nearby suddenly spoke up...
“Hmph! That’s why I said we should’ve sent Draco to Durmstrang. No Mudbloods there.”
“Do you even know how far Durmstrang is? Hogwarts is closer. If anything happens, we can get there faster!”
“What could possibly happen at school...”
This middle-aged wizard was none other than Draco’s father and the current head of the Malfoy family—
Lucius Malfoy.
It was obvious Draco had inherited his father’s light blond hair. That composed expression and impeccable posture marked him as the perfect image of a noble wizard.
And the witch arguing with him was his wife, Draco’s mother—
Narcissa Black Malfoy.
If Draco got his hair from his father, then his looks definitely ca from his mother.
Her porcelain skin seed to glow, and the way she playfully glanced at Lucius radiated the graceful charm of a young wife...
What they were actually arguing about was which school Draco should attend.
Originally, Lucius Malfoy had wanted Draco to enroll at Durmstrang, the wizarding school that accepted only pure-bloods. But Narcissa didn’t want Draco traveling so far from ho, which is how he ended up at Hogwarts instead.
Don’t be fooled by their bickering—they were, in fact, very much in love. Otherwise, Lucius wouldn’t have fallen silent so quickly the mont his wife shot him a sharp look.
After all, this was Lucius Malfoy—cold, ruthless, and imnsely influential. To see him looking so resigned was hard to imagine. He wasn’t quite the evil Death Eater the world made him out to be.
...
Draco let out a silent smile upstairs, unconcerned by the fading argunt below.
When it ca to these small matters, his father always gave in to his mother.
Besides, he didn’t think Hogwarts was a bad choice at all.
The library alone made it worth it.
It was just that...
“By Mudblood… did he an Hermione Granger?”
Looks like his godfather had filled his father in on everything that happened at school.
Draco didn’t believe for a second that his emotionally reserved godfather would’ve volunteered information about his school life. More likely, his father had gone to Snape and asked—hence the details.
Hermione was exactly the kind of “Mudblood” his father despised.
But what they probably didn’t know... was that things had taken quite an unexpected turn.
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