One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry awoke to find itself blanketed in several feet of snow. The lake was frozen solid.
In the sky, a few owls braved the snowstorm to deliver mail. After their exhausting journeys, they had to rest under Hagrid's care before they could fly again and complete their deliveries.
Not long ago, the Weasley twins had been punished for enchanting snowballs to chase Quirrell around the grounds—and even more boldly, to pelt his ever-present and peculiar turban.
Perhaps caught off guard, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor finally revealed a glimpse of the strength expected from someone in his position.
Rumor had it that Professor Quirrell used a single, simple spell to give the Weasley twins a serious lesson.
As a result, those who heard about the incident realized that their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor wasn't the pushover they had assumed—he actually had some real ability.
Still, why did he seem so useless in class?
Not many bothered to dwell on it. More accurately, no one had the time or energy to worry about Professor Quirrell's secrets, because every young wizard's thoughts had already drifted far from Hogwarts.
After the opening match of the Quidditch season, Christmas—the most anticipated time of the year—was fast approaching.
On Christmas Day, the young wizards would finally be able to return home and celebrate the holiday with their long-missed families.
And when it came to holidays, these young students had no resistance at all. Even though the break hadn't officially started, it was clear their thoughts had already flown ahead, wrapped up in plans for how to spend their vacation…
…
Although the holidays were just around the corner, classes still had to be taken seriously—especially Potions. None of the young wizards dared to zone out during Professor Snape's lessons. Known as the "black bat," Snape's presence alone was enough to keep everyone alert.
At least, on the surface, no one dared to mess around.
Well, everyone except a certain little princess named Parkinson...
"Draco, is Christmas going to be the same as always this year?"
Because Potions was held underground, the cold air made every breath visible in a puff of white mist. At that moment, Pansy playfully blew a warm breath toward Draco as she casually asked her question, pretending not to care.
Draco, who clearly understood her intentions, glanced at her with a half-smile.
"Same as always... So, are you coming over again this Christmas?"
"Again? What's with that dismissive tone?"
Draco's less-than-gentlemanly response left Pansy both irritated and disappointed by the answer she didn't want to hear, though she still threw him a playful glare.
What's so wrong with childhood friends spending Christmas together?
In fact, for the past few years, Pansy had shown up at Draco's dinner table like clockwork, enjoying Christmas turkey with his family.
And each year, Draco had never once invited her...
Just as Pansy was about to press further, Draco suddenly turned to glance behind him, as if sensing something.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Maybe I'm just being paranoid."
"??"
Draco shook his head, brushing off the question as he casually answered the curious look from Pansy.
He absentmindedly ran his fingers over the pages of his book.
Lately, Draco had been feeling a gaze fixed on him—persistent but not hostile. It made him uneasy.
Maybe... just an obsessed fan?
As the thought crossed his mind, the Potions class ended.
Snape, standing at the podium, left them with a single line before sweeping out of the classroom in his usual dramatic fashion, black robes billowing behind him as though teaching were an unbearable burden.
"Each of you is to brew a bottle of Cure for Boils Potion at home and write a reflection on it. With those shriveled brains of yours, you should at least manage a basic Cure for Boils Potion. I'll be checking your results next lesson. Class dismissed!"
He left in such a hurry, it was as if something urgent awaited him...
"Draco, have you noticed that Professor Snape's been acting a little strange lately?"
"What do you mean?"
"Isn't it weird? He used to hate Harry Potter the most."
Pansy's words made Draco pause for a moment.
It was true—under normal circumstances, Snape would have spent the entire class sniping at Harry until he left.
But lately, that usual venom aimed at Harry Potter had vanished.
And his godfather had been almost impossible to find in his office. Whatever he was up to, Draco didn't know, and it was frustrating—especially when he was missing potion ingredients.
"Now that you mention it... it started after that Quidditch match. He's been... softer?"
"Ahem... really? Now that you say it, it does seem like it."
As Draco packed his books, he spoke his thoughts aloud.
And that thought lingered in his mind...