As Christmas approached, the weather in the Scottish Highlands grew colder by the day.
More and more students preferred to stay inside the castle, cozying up near the fireplace or enjoying a warm meal at the long table in the Great Hall—anything seemed better than facing the biting cold outside.
The conflict with Slytherin remained unknown to the professors. Gryffindor students were not foolish enough to fall into a trap, and Slytherins knew they could not endure humiliation.
Moreover, older students attacking younger ones, even using the term "Mudblood," would be considered a serious offense—even by Snape.
Before they could even welcome the newcomers to the Dueling Club, the Christmas holidays arrived as expected.
At Hogwarts, the Christmas break was long, lasting from mid-December until mid-January.
A century ago, except for his fifth year, when he went to Nurmengard Castle, Harry always stayed at school over Christmas. After all, he had nowhere else to go.
In 1991, he could have returned to his aunt's house, but for him, that was no home. Hogwarts felt far more welcoming.
So, when Professor McGonagall came to register the students staying at school for the holidays, Harry promptly signed his name. Partly because Hogwarts made him feel comfortable, and partly because he wanted to continue exploring the castle.
That morning, he sat at the Gryffindor table, quietly having breakfast. Ron and the others were still in bed, having stayed up late celebrating before the holidays.
The approaching Christmas gave him an idea: during the holiday, the friends would exchange gifts.
Harry thought of giving Ron a wand as a present, but then he realized a problem: wands needed to be personally chosen by the wizard to test compatibility. Since Ron would be going home in a few days, they couldn't just pick any wand from Ollivanders.
"It's him! It's him!"
Just then, the Weasley twins flanked Harry.
"Our little hero—"
"No, our little Lion King," Fred corrected George. "He defeated Slytherin—in every sense of the word. He deserves to be our Lion King."
"He chewed up that Farley whom Percy idolized and spat her out," said George, extending an invitation to Harry. "So, our little Lion King, would you like to join a great plan?"
"What plan?" Harry asked, taking a bite of toast.
"Quirk, I mean, Professor Quirrell," Fred whispered. "He smells terribly strong, and who knows what's hidden under that thick hood? I think it's garlic; George thinks it's some indescribable secret. Want to bet?"
"What bet?" Harry asked.
"What's under that hood, of course," the twins said in unison.
Harry paused mid-bite of his beans in tomato sauce and looked at the twins. He knew they loved pranks, but he had never imagined they would prank a professor.
Very well, he thought, this is an excellent idea…
Harry really could not stand Professor Quirrell. Calling him the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher seemed almost insulting—he was merely someone going through the motions without effort.
What annoyed him even more was the persistent smell of garlic emanating from Quirrell's head, impossible to ignore even when trying to sleep. Even Hermione, usually so respectful, referred to him by his first name, "Quirk," rather than "Professor."
Harry didn't want to miss the chance to annoy him.
"Wait a minute," he asked, "aren't you going home?"
"Plans changed. Mom and Dad are going to Romania to visit Charlie," Fred replied. "You know Charlie, right? He was your Gryffindor Seeker and captain before you. Now he's raising dragons in Romania—Ron must have told you plenty about him."
"Such a cool job," said Harry, relieved.
Since Ron wasn't going home, Harry could take him to Ollivanders in Diagon Alley.
"I think it's a great job too. Actually, Charlie wanted to keep playing Quidditch, but Mom wouldn't allow it, saying he needed a respectable job," Fred explained. "To avoid upsetting Mom, Charlie had to give up his favorite sport. He talks about Quidditch all the time, even at dinner."
"What's the plan then? How will you make Quirrell take off his hood?" Harry asked.
Fred and George leaned in and whispered the plan:
"Based on our observations, Quirrell leaves the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom every morning at eight to go to the Great Hall for breakfast. Since it has recently snowed, why not throw snowballs at the back of his neck to force him to remove the hood and clean it? What do you think?"
"I'm in," Harry agreed. It was a clever plan—discreet and with a plausible excuse. If they were caught, they could claim the snowballs missed.
The twins exchanged a glance and high-fived.
"Yay! I knew the Lion King wouldn't refuse our plan!"
"It's 7:40 now; we need to get ready," added George.
Harry thought for a moment, deciding that snowballs alone wouldn't be enough.
"Wait here; I'll go back to my dorm to get something," he told the twins.
"What is it?" asked Fred, curious.
"If the snowballs don't work, we'll use this," Harry said mysteriously, leaving the Gryffindor table.
Back in the dormitory, the three friends were still sound asleep. With no classes that day, Harry did not plan to wake them.
He looked out the window at a flowerpot. The increasingly plump maneki-neko wiggled its rounded body, and Harry even felt a touch of satisfaction.
Neville had been meticulously caring for the maneki-neko lately, from fertilizing to watering. Harry noticed that Neville had a genuine interest in plants.
Perhaps he could cultivate this interest in him; after all, plants could be useful in combat—mandrakes, venomous tendrils, and the maneki-neko were valuable tools for any wizard.
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