Metanoia • Harry Potter • Book I

Chapter 13

Word Count: 3260

After Halloween, the cold swept in with alarming speeds. Cotton robes were swapped out for wool and thick cloaks shrouded the hallways. No matter how many heating charms were cast, or how powerful the crackling fires got, you couldn't deny the frost creeping up the dungeon walls.

"It's ridiculous," Daphne huffed as they walked down from Astronomy, lumped together to conserve heat. "I could barely touch my telescope."

"I hear you," Blaise moaned, trying to rub some feeling back into his stiff fingers. They were still slightly curled from being stuck to the telescope. Draco shoved past them, waving around his thick rabbit-fur gloves.

"Bloody git," Keziah spat out, her own hands curled into fists and buried in her scarf. She thanked her thick hair for keeping her ears shielded from the cruel wind that had battered the tower. 

"Thinks he can walk around like that," Daphne snarled in agreement. "Once I'm good enough, I'm going to hex him so bad he won't be able to think straight."

"Oooh, keep it PG, Daph," Blaise snickered only to be shoved into the wall, nearly faceplanting into a portrait.

"Shut your mouth, Zabini."

"GUYS!" Theodore said sharply, his voice muffled by his scarf. The other three stopped, looking a bit ashamed.

"Plus," he continued, "it's not even that bad."

"Says the one wrapped up in three layers," Keziah snorted, snatching Theodore's hat. His thin hair stuck up unevenly so he mildly resembled a hedgehog.

"Shut up," Theodore snapped, jerking his hat back and cramming it on his head. "I live in Edinburgh so I'm used to all this. Doesn't mean I enjoy it."

"You live in Edinburgh?" Daphne asked curiously.

"Yep. I took the train this year, because, you know, tradition. But, next year, I'm having my father drop me off at the station,"

"Is that even allowed?" Keziah asked.

"Dunno. But I'd like to see you try to say no to my father."

"I bet Draco would," Blaise snorted. "My father will hear about this!"

His voice had risen several octaves higher, taking on Draco's whiny pitch as he continued mocking the boy. The group burst into raucous laughter which bounced off the dark walls.

"Will you QUIETEN down!" a portrait shrieked, waving around their sleeping cap. Keziah stared at it, trying to regain control of her breath.

"Excuse me?" she wheezed, still giggling. The portrait scowled, shaking their fist at her.

"It is past midnight, young lady!" it admonished. "You have no respect for portraits! I should call for Filch, I should."

"Portraits don't need sleep," Daphne piped up, pushing her head onto Keziah's shoulder so she faced the portrait. It blushed.

"That," it stammered. "That's not the point!"

"We should go," Theodore pulled the girls away gently. "I don't think Flitwick would be happy if we overslept."

Daphne nodded, giving the portrait the stink-eye before turning away. 

"I still think we should hex Draco off his high horse," she muttered.

*

For the next few days, the school was taken over by Quidditch fever. Keziah would be sick of it if not for Harry's first game coming up. He hadn't spoken to her since before Halloween but Keziah put that down to his stresses. Even Hermione hadn't shown up to their regular study session, leaving Keziah to revise Defense Against the Dark Arts alone.