HP: Becoming a Maiden Heartthrob

Mrs. Ender had never felt that Christmas was a holiday for gifts. She thought it was just a holiday for children. It was not until she picked up her well-behaved but troublesome daughter from her boyfriend's house, sent her to her room, and saw the mountains of gifts all over the room that she had a deep understanding of this.

“I knew you were popular, but I didn’t expect you to be this popular,” Mrs. Ende said.

Nalilian stared at her blankly, "Mom."

It’s over, why did this child become stupid? Mrs. Ende looked at her worriedly.

"Time to open the presents," she coaxed.

"Mom," Nalilian just grabbed the edge of her clothes.

"Do you need me to help you open your presents?" Mrs. Ender asked.

Nalilian nodded.

Mrs. Ender squatted down to help her open the gift. She picked up the nearest small box with exquisite packaging and a string fluttering wildly.

It looked like it wanted to be taken apart.

"Oh my gosh."

She unpacked a beautiful grape crystal ornament, given by a little girl named Pansy. Beneath it was a dark purple greeting card with gilded patterns.

"En De, this is a gift. This is what we agreed on. Don't forget it. By Pansy"

Mrs. Ende held the delicate grape crystal in her hand for Nalilian to see, but she just nodded.

"nice."

As expected, she was stupid. Mrs. Ende put down the ornaments and thought, maybe taking apart a few more of them would make her happy?

She continued to open the presents and show them to Lillian. She was amazed by the magical little gadgets: the dancing pendulum clock, the greeting card that stuck out its tongue, the pen that sprayed snowflakes.

But her precious silly daughter still didn't react.

Until she unpacked a set of painting tools, which was given by a girl named Hermione Granger. There was also a greeting card with a lot of content, which told her a lot of professional knowledge related to painting.

"Painting," Nalilian, who had been watching her open the presents, was startled, her eyes gradually brightening, "Painting!"

She stood up and walked to the pile of paint, set up the canvas and picked up the brush.

Mrs. Ende looked at her daughter, countless small objects jumping and leaping with life at her feet, while she had a paintbrush in her hand, dotting the canvas with colors, and she looked at the colors on the canvas, as if that was the only living thing in the world.

At this moment, she felt strange.

Is this what Lillian is like?

*

At Parkinson Manor, Pansy, who had already greeted everyone, left the boring Christmas dinner and ran back to her room.

There were a lot of gifts piled up in her room. She passed by them without paying any attention until she saw a package and her eyes lit up.

She delivered it.

She'd inquired about Eun-tak's gift-giving habits, which was easy because she gave gifts to so many people, though of course it was also irritating.

The gifts she gave were all from the Muggle world, where the ribbons used to wrap the gifts had strange patterns but did not have the ability to unfold on their own.

Pansy carefully opened the package along the crease, took the gift in her hand, and felt puzzled -

Is this a piano? Made of paper?

She looked at it over and over again. It was indeed very delicately made, and the keys could make sounds when pressed. It was quite good.

Pansy was somewhat satisfied until she noticed a date or something on the piano cover.

It turned out to be a calendar, and it was last year's calendar.

There was also a greeting card in the package. She picked it up and read it - "Merry Christmas, Pan Jinlian. By Na Lilian"

What does Pan...Jinlian mean?

Pansy looked at the card over and over again, frowning deeply.

This is not Ende's handwriting.

Did she let someone else choose the gift?

Realizing this, Pansy had the urge to tear up the gift, but after thinking it over, she locked it in her jewelry box.

Hateful kindness, conscienceless kindness!

Even her name is misspelled.

*

"came back?"

When the door was opened in the middle of the night, Mrs. Ende looked at the figure who was about to sneak in and spoke.

"You still remember to go home, Kersten."

"I thought you were asleep, Mom," said Kersten, pausing.

"How can I possibly sleep?" Mrs. Ende said with a headache.

The son is not at home, and the daughter becomes stupid again.

Kersten glanced up at the attic. "Is Lillian asleep?"

"Probably not asleep," said Mrs. Ende.

Probably still painting.

Kersten nodded and walked upstairs to the room.

"You'd better explain to Lillian," Mrs. Ender stopped him as he was walking up the escalator. "I have no objection to you going out, but you know you've always taken good care of her, and she depends on you."

"She'll be very sad if you avoid her like this."

Kersten paused. "She needs to adjust, Mom."

Mrs. Ende asked in return, "Adapt?"

She looked at her son.

A young man who had grown taller than her at some point in his life was standing on the stairs. His handsome and cold face was covered in shadow, making him look a bit strange.

Mrs. Ende found it unreasonable.

He had held Lillian so tightly before, but now he let her go so quickly.

What does he think of his sister?

Is it a pet that you hold when you like it and throw away when you don’t like it?

"You mean you'll always be like this?" she demanded.

Kerston didn't answer, taking it as a yes.

"Answer me!" Mrs. Ende couldn't help raising her voice.

Kersten looked at her, "I'm sorry, Mom."

Hearing this apology, Mrs. Ende's pent-up anger subsided and she sighed dejectedly.

"You're just like your damn dad," she said.

They both pursued their careers and liked to abandon their loved ones, even though he might have done so out of a desire to protect Lillian.

"I'm sorry," Kersten simply apologized.

Mrs. Ender waved her hand. "I don't ask for anything else, but you go see Lillian."

"I went to Seide's house yesterday, and she came back feeling a little bit down and silly."

Mrs. Ende held her face in her hands, very worried.

Kersten frowned.

“I was just helping her open her presents and she saw the paint and started drawing,” Mrs. Ender continued.

Kersten was startled, "Drawing?"

"Yes," replied Mrs. Ender, "I have never seen her paint."

"I've never seen her so obsessed with something."

Kersten came to the door of Nalilian's room. He stood outside the door for a while and decided to knock on the door. But as soon as he raised his hand to touch the door, the door was blown open by the wind, revealing the inside.

He froze.

In the moonlight coming in from the window, Nalilian lay quietly on the ground, the crystal bracelet on her wrist gleaming with fragmented light, her hands covered with paint, and next to her, on a canvas covered with paint, dots of pink light merged into the galaxy and flowed on a flowing pink fishtail dress.

Kerston looked at her, walked a few steps in, slowly squatted in front of her, and couldn't help but reach out and touch her long black hair.

As if sensing a familiar breath, Nalilian, who was still sleeping soundly, trembled her eyelashes and uttered a dreamy mumble, "Sed..."

As if a dream had shattered, he suddenly woke up, stood up abruptly, looked at Nalilian for a few seconds, then turned around, closed the door and left.