Harry Potter One Shots

Snowy Evening

All rights belong to the author, strigaviridis

It was early in the afternoon, but the gray-stoned corridor was filled with dusky shadows. Hogwarts after Christmas felt really strange – empty, echoing shell of its usual self. Stone floor was cold, it smelled like old dust. It was drafty and the tapestries moved slightly with every gust. Harry shivered and put the elbows on wide window-sill and peered outside.

The sky was pearly gray, the deserted school-grounds a solid white sheet of snow dotted with black trees here and there. Ron had fallen asleep in front of the fire in the common room, and Harry quietly slipped outside – he was in one of those moods when you're not sure whether you want to talk to someone or be left alone. For a while he just stood gazing through window. Couple hours – and it'll be too late to go outside. The thought got him moving, and after a brief trip back to the dormitory to get the winter cloak he headed down to the main doors. The bronze handle turned slowly, Harry pushed the door and stepped outside. It wasn't cold at all, the wet breeze mingled a fresh smells of snow and winter forest. Harry inhaled deeply and smiled.

He chose the familiar path – the one which led to Hagrid's hut. There was no one in sight, but it didn't faze him – actually, the deserted landscape made him feel calm and strangely excited at the same time. It's just that New Year is coming, and I am here...

Even before Harry knocked on the heavy wooden door, he knew Hagrid wasn't home – Fang didn't bark and the hut was enveloped in a silence, that of an empty house.

Oh well. I'll just go for a stroll, to the lake and then back to the castle.

The path got a bit steeper behind the hut, and Harry had to watch his step. Suddenly something white landed on his nose – a snowflake. Harry lifted his gaze from the narrowing path and looked around: it wasn't really snowing, just separate big snowflakes drifting down lazily. It was so quiet he imagined he could hear the flakes touching the ground. I'll just look at the lake and turn back.

He wasn't sure when lone snowflakes turned into a blizzard – it was like trying to watch the progress of a clock hand, the change being both too gradual and deadly fast. He hadn't even reached the lake shore by the moment when everything turned white, with snow falling through graying air with blinding, dizzying speed.

Just like with the blizzard, he couldn't tell exactly when he realized he got lost. The path had been quickly filling with freshly fallen snow. One moment he was following the path and a moment later there was no path – just the thickening layer of slow, first ankle-high, then growing higher and higher, making it harder to wade though.

Panic, like the snow drifts, was rising steadily. He kept walking – blindly, having lost all sense of direction, just trudging through the snow, hoping that any minute he will see the low stone wall surrounding Hagrid's hut. But there was nothing to see, the whole world seemed to have turned into a white silent desert. His feet were getting numb, his hands, despite all his efforts to keep them warm, began to ache from the cold, and panic was turning into a real fear.

Stupid. How stupid can you get? Stupid Potter, got lost in the blizzard and got himself frozen to death... Malfoy will die from laughing. He hadn't noticed, but he was shaking, snow mingled in his hair, turning it white. It was getting harder and harder to just keep walking, and Harry felt his eyes prickling with hot tears.

He kept on walking, stubbornly, desperately. Snow was falling with blinding speed now, and it was getting darker. "Hello! Anybody?" - his voice sounded hollow and desperate. No use yelling for help, there's no one around... Umph! For a while he had been walking with his eyes almost shut against the wind, so no surprise he bumped into... Into someone. Harry was staring at the black cloth right before him. A large hand fell on his shoulder.