It was mid December, and the winter chill was just beginning to kick in, sending most of the students of Hogwarts retiring back to the warmth of the common room. That is, with the exception of a lone Gryffindor who was sat huddled on the top row of the Quidditch stands, his cloak clutched tightly around his neck in an attempt to preserve the little heat the cloak provided.
The Gryffindor was contemplating returning to his dormitory, now unsure whether the letter he had been sent earlier that day was a prank or not, a stark contrast to his usual confidence.
However, as he saw a flash of silver hair appear under a hooded figure in the distance, Cormac settled back upon the Slytherin coloured bench, a contempt smile spreading across his face.