ᴀ ᴅ ʀ ɪ ᴇ ɴ ɴ ᴇ [1]

15. roughly hewn

chapter fifteen

ROUGHLY HEWN

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CHRISTMAS IS COMING. One morning in mid-December, I wake to find the sprawling grounds covered with a soft blanket of snow, and the Lake frozen solid. The Weasley Twins are soon told off for bewitching a pile of snowballs to follow Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. Harry and I can't wait for the holidays to start. While this doesn't bother me, the drafty corridors have become icy and bitter, wind rattling the windows in the classroom. The Great Hall and Gryffindor Common Room have warming, roaring fires, and for my friend's sakes, we spend as much time near them as possible.

Worst of all classes are Snape's down in the dungeons.

"I do feel sorry," says Malfoy as Hermione huddles close to the warm fire heating the cauldron while I prepare the ingredients, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

He's looking over to Harry and I as he says this, and I feel a sudden burning inside me.

"I do feel sorry," I counter loudly, "for all those people who want to go home to their narcissistic, snobby parents who don't care for them at all and spend their days blackmailing and threatening people into their pockets to make themselves feel important."

Harry, Ron, Hermione and the rest of the Gryffindors all laugh loudly, and Malfoy flushes. I smirk at him. That should teach you to leave Harry and I alone. Malfoy, while still rude when it comes to me, has been even more unpleasant to Harry since the Quidditch match; disgusted by Gryffindor's victory, he has tried on numerous occasions to get everybody laughing about how a wide-mouthed tree frog'll be replacing Harry as Seeker next and how I'm such a sucker for my twin, leaving the game to try and help him. Then he realises that nobody finds this funny, because they're all so impressed Harry managed to hold onto his bucking broomstick for so long and how I scored two out of two goals during my first match. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, has gone back to taunting us about having no proper family.

It's true that neither Harry nor I are going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. But who would? Professor McGonagall came around at breakfast last week, asking who would be remaining in the castle for the holidays and making a list. I was the first to put my name down, jumping up and saying 'me' very loudly, Harry following suit. Ron and his brothers are staying, too, because Mr and Mrs Weasley are going to Romania to visit Charlie. When we finally leave the dungeons, we find a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet are stocking out from underneath and a loud puffing is issuing from the other side.

"Hi, Hagrid," I say, sticking my head through the branches.

"Want any help?" Ron asks, sticking his head in too.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron, Ada."

"Would you mind moving?" comes Malfoy's cold drawl from behind us. "Or are you too busy trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwats, I suppose - that Hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

I whirl around and scowl. How dare he insult Ron's family like that? Ron and I dive at him at the exact moment Snape emerges from the stairwell.

"WEASLEYH AND POTTAH!"

Ron lets go of the front of Malfoy's robes, but I can't stop myself from throwing one, strong punch into Malfoy's face. Malfoy staggers away, clutching his bleeding nose, and I look up.