Harry Potter and the Blind Seer of Durmstrang

Chapter 22

All in all, Harry felt grateful when at last the Yule Ball ended. His head ached from the white light that seemed to sparkle everywhere in the Great Hall, and the constant sea of noise left him feeling disoriented and slightly dizzy. To his relief, Ron hadn't been upset at all, and chattered on about Hogwarts and spending Christmas at Grimmauld Place. Apparently, all of the Weasleys and Hermione had been invited to join Sirius and Remus in the old house. Harry knew the plans had been made for his pleasure, but the fact that they had all been made while he was away, without his even knowing, gave him an odd feeling.

His mood lifted somewhat the next morning. Sleeping once more in his bed in Gryffindor Tower felt so like home.

"What's the weather?" he asked Ron, standing at the window, as he had done so often last year.

"Whaaa," mumbled Ron, emerging from beneath the bedclothes.

Harry didn't press, and Ron rolled back over to resume his soft snoring. Harry stood at the window, eyes closed against the white light, picturing the scene before him. In his imagination, his view soared like an owl past the diamond window panes, and across the snow-covered grounds. He saw the dark line of the Forbidden Forest, and the spiky towers of the Quidditch pitch. He smiled to himself, and turned toward his trunk.

Three hours later, he held Hermione's elbow as they tramped through the powdered snow toward the Hogsmeade station and the Hogwarts Express. Snow drifted down upon them, and Harry savored the crystalline silence produced by the inaudible sound of each tiny flake as it fell. At that moment, there was no Voldemort, no exchange, no Carrows, or knitting class, or getting lost. There was only the warmth of friends and the beauty of a snowfall.

Thwack! Something soft, powdery, and shockingly cold hit Harry's ear and trickled down into his coat collar. Harry twisted around and was rewarded with another snowball directly in the face. He gasped, then began laughing.

"Oy!" he shouted, swiping the back of his sleeve across his face to clear away the snow.

"Harry, look out!" squealed Hermione, and Harry ducked, with the comical result that Hermione received the full force of the snowball intended for Harry.

Ron, stomping along on the far side of Hermione suddenly darted forward with a volley of his own, and Harry heard a yell from Fred (or was it George?) and the snowballs momentarily slowed. Harry took the opportunity to stoop and gather his own handful of snow and pack it into a snowy missile. He waited, listening, while Ron threw another one. He grinned as George (or was it Fred?) taunted, "Missed me, little brother!"

Concentrating, Harry aimed for the voice, and with a flick of his wrist, he let fly. He was soon rewarded with a shout and a "Bloody Hell!" from both of the twins.

"Where did that come from?" asked Fred in surprise, once he'd cleared the snow from his mouth.

Harry ducked his head and walked on, swinging his cane jauntily in front of him.

In no time, they reached the platform, and good-naturedly shoved their way onto the train, shaking snow off their robes, and stamping their boots. Harry, Ron, and Hermione found an empty compartment and flung themselves into the seats. Harry had no sooner seated himself, when something jumped onto his lap, making him yell with surprise. It turned out to be Crookshanks, and Hermione exclaimed with delight to see him. Harry patted his back a bit absently, thinking to himself that if Crookshanks had joined them for the train ride, they might be in more danger than Harry realized. He frowned slightly to himself.

In spite of his misgivings, they reached King's Cross without incident, although Harry had been secretly listening for anything amiss. Crookshanks, too, had not settled down into his usual sleepy ball, but had stayed awake and alert, his ears vertical under Harry's hand.