(Various!Harry Potter x F!Reader) (REWRITTING IN PROGRESS)
↳❝𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨, 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬.❞
It all began with an acceptance letter that you discovered the world of wizardry and witc...
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WHO GIVES FIFTY-PENCE?
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One morning in mid-December, you roused to the most freezing day in winter. It had to be at least below freezing outdoors, perhaps even lower. Once you stepped out of the castle, the cold seemed to have hit you ten times more than yesterday. The Great Lake was still frozen solid, with no signs of the ice thinning soon, and the endless snow falling from the sky was piling— Hagrid had to keep shoveling them off to the side every sunrise.
The occasional snowstorms were harsh against the few owls that battled their way through to deliver mail. Hagrid, once again, was entrusted to nurse the poor animals to health before they could fly off. You offered him help the best way you could, which he was grateful for. Schrödinger was there while you covered the owls inside the fluffy blankets. He didn't seem interested and preferred lounging near the fireplace in the hut like a cat would normally do. He and Fang seemed to be abnormally getting along, you observed.
While you were occupied playing nurse with owls, Fred and George were again punished for bewitching several snowballs that pursued Professor Quirrell around, bouncing off his turban. It was entertaining as you watched him run across the hallway with little, evil snowmen tailing behind him.
Everyone was buzzing like bees— no one could wait for the holidays to start. No more homework, deadlines, and school tasks for around two weeks before the New Year. Everyone wanted to wrap up their respective work.
While the Gryffindor common room and The Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy, and a bitter wind rattled the windows inside the classrooms. If you looked hard enough, you could spot the exquisite patterns of the snowflakes inching up to the sides. But the worst was Professor Snape's Potion class in the dungeons, where your hands would tremble from the chill, forcing you to be as near as possible to the hot and boiling cauldrons.
"I do feel sorry." It was another day during Potions that Draco decided to open his mouth yet again. "I really do! For all those people who will stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."
It was such a random yet hilarious underhanded remark that you had to curb your laughter. Draco looked at Harry when he spoke, and his goons giggled alongside him like they weren't pretending his jests were funny. He had been more unpleasant than usual since Quidditch, disgusted that Slytherin lost against you in the most humiliating way. There had been multiple attempts where he made a tasteless joke to get a rise, but he must have realized nobody found them humorous.
