The next morning, Hogwarts woke up to a world covered in white.
Harry was jolted awake by a chorus of cheers and laughter.
Still half-asleep, he turned his head—only to see Ron, Neville, and the others all huddled by the window in their pajamas, completely mesmerized by the snow outside.
They were practically bouncing in place, their breath fogging up the glass, their excitement completely overriding any sense of cold.
Harry sat up, rubbing his eyes before turning to look outside.
Everything. Was. White.
The entire world was blanketed in a thick layer of snow, so dazzlingly bright that his eyes started to blur after staring for too long.
It had snowed a lot.
Hogwarts had awakened from its slumber—
Only to find itself buried beneath several feet of snow.
The Black Lake had frozen over, its surface now solid and unyielding like tempered steel.
And just outside, Harry spotted the Weasley twins, bundled up in thick coats, laughing mischievously as they played in the snow.
At first, Harry thought they were just having a snowball fight—
Until he noticed something strange about the way the snowballs moved.
They weren't just being thrown—
They were chasing after Quirrell.
Each one zoomed through the air, smacking him right in the back of the head, right against the back of his turban.
Harry's mouth fell open.
For a moment, he just stood there, stunned—his mind racing as he pictured the absolute chaos happening inside Quirrell's head right now.
A snowball.
A magically enchanted snowball—
Had just smashed into Voldemort's face.
The Dark Lord. The Terror of the Wizarding World.
The name that once made grown wizards tremble in fear.
The one who had survived countless assassination attempts, the mastermind behind an era of war and destruction—
Had just been hit in the face by a snowball.
Thrown by two ordinary Hogwarts students who had no idea what they had just done.
Harry was torn between horror and absolute hysterics.
If Voldemort had been angry before—
Then this?
This was the ultimate humiliation.
At this very moment, his hatred for the Weasley twins might have even surpassed his hatred for Harry.
Meanwhile, inside Quirrell's office…
The moment Quirrell stepped inside, a furious, ear-splitting shriek erupted from the back of his head.
"I WANT THEM DEAD! DEAD!!"
Quirrell immediately dropped to his knees, his entire body trembling.
"Master! Those fools dared to offend the great Dark Lord—it is unforgivable!"
Voldemort's voice hissed, venomous and sharp.
"No. No, Quirrell. I want them delivered to me."
"I will rip their hearts from their chests—feed them to my snakes—let them feel what it's like to be devoured alive!"
Quirrell's head jerked forward in terror.
"Y-Yes, my Lord," he whispered.
The air filled with a low, menacing hiss.
Back in the Great Hall…
As Harry sat at breakfast, he overheard a conversation between two students—one that made him realize just how fast time had flown by.
"We're already in mid-December," one boy said, his voice filled with excitement. "Just ten more days until Christmas—then we'll be heading home for the holidays!"
The holidays.
A simple word—yet one that carried so much warmth and anticipation.
Another boy chimed in, his voice full of enthusiasm.
"Yeah, my parents sent me an owl saying we're going to America this year for Christmas!"
"That sounds amazing," the first boy sighed, clearly envious. "I wish I could spend Christmas traveling with my family too."
The second boy grinned.
"Don't worry—I'll bring you back loads of souvenirs."
The boy grinned. "Arigato!"
Harry let his gaze drift away from the two childhood-friend-like students and murmured softly, "It's all so fast…"
Right beside him, Hermione tilted her head. "What's so fast?"
Harry lifted his eyes slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"Time," he said.
"Crossing through Platform 9¾… boarding the Hogwarts Express… watching the scenery pass by through the train window… seeing Professor McGonagall for the first time, looking all stern and serious… stepping into the Great Hall… putting on the Sorting Hat…"
"All of it… it still feels like it just happened yesterday."
Hermione didn't quite understand the depth of nostalgia or reminiscing just yet—
But Harry's gentle, almost wistful smile was contagious.
So she smiled too.
A bright, innocent smile.
"And of course," Harry added, "there's also you."
Hermione blinked. "Me? What about me?"
Harry smirked.
"It's been half a term, you know? That's one-twentieth of my entire life. And guess what? I've spent all of it with you."
Hermione huffed, turning her head. "Hmph! I'm not talking to you anymore."
Excitement for the holidays was in full swing.
Though the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall were warm with roaring fireplaces, the corridors remained icy cold, and classroom windows rattled from the harsh winter wind.
But by far, the worst part was Potions.
Snape insisted on holding his classes deep in the dungeons, making them absolute nightmares in this kind of weather.
Every breath they took immediately turned into a visible cloud of mist—forcing students to huddle closer to their steaming cauldrons just to keep warm.
And of course—
Draco Malfoy never missed a chance to run his mouth before class started.
This time, he had a perfectly crafted insult.
"I heard some people can't even go home for Christmas," Malfoy sneered, his voice dripping with fake sympathy.
"Must be so sad… To have no family that actually wants you."
He was practically radiating smugness, as if his ability to go home for Christmas somehow made him superior.
A few days ago, McGonagall had put up a sign-up sheet for students who planned to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays.
Harry had signed his name without hesitation.
The Dursleys weren't his family—not really.
And if he had a choice, he'd much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to Privet Drive.
Unfortunately, Malfoy had found out—
And now he was acting like he'd won a grand prize.
Harry was carefully measuring out powdered lionfish spine when Malfoy spoke.
Without looking up, he paused for a moment—
Then sighed.
This?
This was just so childish.
Malfoy was clearly still bitter about getting humiliated multiple times before.
And this?
This was his attempt at revenge?
How embarrassing.
Finally, Harry lifted his gaze—locking eyes with Malfoy.
Instinctively, Malfoy took two steps back.
The moment he realized what he'd done, his face flushed red with shame.
Harry chuckled.
"You're right," he said, his tone calm and unbothered.
"I won't be going home for Christmas."
"Because I don't have a home."
Malfoy's smirk froze.
"But I'm not sad about it," Harry continued. "So saying I'm 'pathetic' would be incorrect."
A small ripple of realization spread through the classroom.
For the first time, many students truly processed what that meant.
In the war against Voldemort—Harry's parents had died.
He had no family.
It wasn't that they were ignoring it before—
It was just… Harry never acted like someone who had lost everything.
He was always smiling, always standing tall.
And maybe that's why so many people overlooked that part of his story.
A few girls glanced at Harry, their eyes soft with sympathy.
Neville, in particular, visibly tensed.
He and Harry… weren't that different.
Both had lost their parents to war—except Neville's were still alive.
So if Harry could endure all this pain—if Harry could keep smiling through it all…
Then maybe—
Maybe he could too.
For a split second, Hermione felt the urge to cry.
She wasn't sure why, but she wanted to reach out and grab Harry's hand—
Even though she didn't know what that would accomplish.
Ron cleared his throat.
"Harry," he said, his tone unusually serious, "You can come to my house for Christmas. My family would love to have you."
Seamus chimed in. "Same here! My older brother worships you!"
And just like that—
Harry became the most sought-after guest of the holiday season.
Everyone wanted to "claim" him for Christmas.
It was almost like a tug-of-war match, with Harry as the prize.
Watching his friends fuss over him, Harry felt a warmth bloom in his chest.
They were just a bunch of kids—but somehow, their genuine concern made him feel…
Loved.
"Wow," he thought, surprised at himself.
"I didn't realize… I was this well-liked."
Still, he politely declined all their invitations.
Then—turning to Malfoy—
Harry grinned.
"Actually, Malfoy," he mused, his voice lighthearted yet unsettling,
"I might send you a very special Christmas gift this year."
Malfoy stiffened immediately.
Something about Harry's "big brotherly smile" sent an icy chill down his spine.
He had no idea why—
But suddenly, he had a very, very bad feeling.
That same night — Ravenclaw Girls' Dormitory.
"Cho, why are you staying at school this Christmas?"
Cho Chang turned toward her roommate with a gentle smile.
"My parents are both overseas for work this year," she explained.
"So I don't really have a choice."
Her friend tilted her head.
"Oh… I see. But won't it be boring?"
Cho let out a soft chuckle.
"I'll be in the library the whole time."
"How could I ever get bored?"
Her friend sighed in defeat.
"Figures…"
Another girl giggled. "Well, at least we can still write letters to our families!"
The first girl groaned.
"Ugh. Our poor owls… having to fly in this freezing weather."
"Honestly," another Ravenclaw mused, "I wish we had a bird like Harry Potter's to deliver our letters."
At the mention of his name—
Cho's dark eyes flickered, as if something had stirred inside her.
Harry Potter…
Why was it that—
Even though they had only met once—
His face was so clear in her memory?
That day…
She had felt something.
Something strange.
Something… bitter.
And that girl, Hermione…
They seemed so close, didn't they?