Despite the very heavy load of homework that the fourth years had been given for the holidays, no one was in no mood to work when term ended, and spent the week leading up to Christmas enjoying themselves as fully as possible.
Gryffindor Tower was hardly less crowded now than during term-time; it seemed to have shrunk slightly too, as its inhabitants were being so much rowdier than usual.
Fred and George had had a great success with their Canary Creams, and for the first couple of days of the holidays, people kept bursting into feather all over the place.
Before long, however, all the Gryffindors had learned to treat food anybody else offered them with extreme caution, in case it had a Canary Cream concealed in the center, and Fred confided to me that he and George were now working on developing something else.
Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and its grounds now. The pale blue Beauxbatons carriage looked like a large, chilly, frosted pumpkin next to the iced gingerbread house that was Hagrid's cabin, while the Durmstrang ship's portholes were glazed with ice, the rigging white with frost.
The house-elves down in the kitchen were outdoing themselves with a series of rich, warming stews and savory puddings, and only Fleur Delacour seemed to be able to find anything to complain about.
"It is too 'eavy, all zis 'Ogwarts food," we heard her saying grumpily as we left the Great Hall behind her one evening (Ron skulking behind Harry, keen not to be spotted by Fleur). "I will not fit into my dress robes!"
"Oooh there's a tragedy," Hermione snapped as Fleur went out into the entrance hall. "She really thinks a lot of herself, that one, doesn't she?"
"Hermione — who are you going to the ball with?" said Ron.
He kept springing this question on her, hoping to startle her into a response by asking it when she least expected it. However, Hermione merely frowned and said, "I'm not telling you, you'll just make fun of me."
"You're joking, Weasley!" said Malfoy, behind them. "You're not telling me someone's asked that to the ball? Not the long-molared Mudblood?"
Harry and Ron both whipped around, but Hermione said loudly, waving to somebody over Malfoy's shoulder, "Hello, Professor Moody!"
Malfoy went pale and jumped backward, looking wildly around for Moody, but he was still up at the staff table, finishing his stew.
"Twitchy little ferret, aren't you, Malfoy?" said Hermione scathingly, and she, Harry, Ron, and I went up the marble staircase laughing heartily.
"Hermione," said Ron, looking sideways at her, suddenly frown- ing, "your teeth . . ."
"What about them?" she said.
"Well, they're different . . . I've just noticed. . . ."
"Of course they are — did you expect me to keep those fangs Malfoy gave me?"
"No, I mean, they're different to how they were before he put that hex on you. . . . They're all . . . straight and — and normal- sized."
Hermione suddenly smiled very mischievously, and I noticed it too: It was a very different smile from the one I remembered.
"Well . . . when I went up to Madam Pomfrey to get them shrunk, she held up a mirror and told me to stop her when they were back to how they normally were," she said. "And I just . . . let her carry on a bit." She smiled even more widely.
"Mum and Dad won't be too pleased. I've been trying to persuade them to let me shrink them for ages, but they wanted me to carry on with my braces. You know, they're dentists, they just don't think teeth and magic should — look! Pigwidgeon's back!"
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The Weasley of Slytherin: The Goblet of Fire
Fanfiction(Y/n) Weasley, starting to feel disconnected from his family, is staring his fourth year at Hogwarts, and with that brings new adventures, new threats, and new feelings.
