The aging process has you firmly in its grasp
if you never get the urge to throw a snowball.
Doug Larson
Two weeks after returning from the Christmas holidays, Hogwarts was blanketed in snow. I felt as if there was a damper on my spirits as well. I just do not understand it. The holidays were wonderful. I had several lovely days with my parents. Christmas Eve with the boys was delightful. There was that strange kiss, but it was nothing, really. Then Christmas day was celebrated at the Burrow. The chaos that is several dozen people milling around aided by the latest products Weasley Wizarding Wheezes offers results in absolutely no coherent thought or time to dwell on anything! The few days following were a usual whirlwind of seeing friends and family. There was not much time to spend with just Harry and Ron. There was something different when it was just us in the flat. I think. I just am not sure if it is there or a figment of my imagination.
I did not realize many things during this time frame and one is that others noticed how things were a bit off for Harry and me.
"This is just ridiculous. Those two are utterly hopeless. At least with the Potters James realized his love. Harry seems to be taking after his mother for once. Hermione is supposed to be the brightest witch of this age. Bright! I'll say," Minerva thought to herself one day over supper. "Time to bring in those three devious ones."
Knowing that Harry and I would notice if they were taken out of our classes, Minerva sent Dobby to the Gryffindor common room that evening following the meal.
"Dobby has come to collect Miss Hart, Mr. Lewis, and Mr. Ravel, if you please."
"Oh, hi there. We're coming," Miranda said quite politely. Dobby bobbed his head, losing one of the socks previously hanging over his ear.
The house elf escorted the three to the Headmistress' office through some rarely used corridors to ensure that they would avoid being seen by either Harry or Hermione should they be out of their rooms at this point in the evening. The four made it without incident to the Headmistress McGonagall's offices.
"Knickerbocker Glory," said Dobby and the spiral staircase appeared.
"What's with the password?" wondered Nicholas.
"That my boy is not quite your business, however, we do have a very important matter at hand to deal with children," said a stern voice from behind a very large desk.
"Good evening Headmistress McGonagall," chorused the students. Dobby was about to return to the kitchens when the Headmistress said, "No, stay, Dobby, we may need your assistance in this matter."
What was amazing, well, at least to anyone who knew the house elf, was that he made no rejoinder. The normally profuse Dobby was actually quelled by the Headmistress. He had unwavering loyalty to her, perhaps now second only to Harry Potter, but he was a bit intimidated by her.
"Children, I have no exact knowledge of what occurred over the holidays, but I know I saw Professors Potter and Granger on Christmas morning and they were awkward then. The tension which they both feel, though neither particularly acknowledges, was present then and still is now. Frankly, I am losing patience with those two. Ideas?"
The three youths were surprised by the frankness and frustration of the normally taciturn Headmistress.
Anthony was the first to speak, "Exactly how much are we allowed to get away with, Headmistress?"
This was not exactly the response Minerva McGonagall was looking for, but she was willing to pursue the boy's line of thought at least for a moment.
"What are you thinking?" she asked.
"Well, here's the general idea…" Anthony went on to outline the plan he had formed for the other four in the room.
Minerva McGonagall sighed, she was hesitant to agree to this, but saw that it just might work. "Fine. You will receive no punishments for any actions relating directly to this plan. If any of the other professors seek to discipline you, I will step in and claim the right to set the punishment in private. You will, of course, keep up the charade of my non-involvement and any punishment we may have to pretend to give you."
With that she concluded the conference of plotters with a review of everyone's role. Dobby was instructed to escort the Gryffindors back to their common room to avoid any problems with the prefects patrolling the halls.
The next day dawned clear, bright, and cold. The snow lay thick on the ground, refreshed by several centimeters that conveniently fell overnight. With the majority of older students spending their Saturday in Hogsmeade as it was the first Hogsmeade weekend since the holidays, only the young students were left to amuse themselves. Many wished to find that amusement outdoors.
Our three young Gryffindors put their plan into action after the older students were all gone. Using some of Dobby's special talents, they issued an anonymous challenge to each house.
Over the mantel of the fireplaces in Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin appeared the following scroll:
Quidditch is a noble sport
Yet few of us play this game
So today we issue this report
Not meant for those who are tame
All Houses meet for a fight
For snowballs will make the sky white
First Annual Interhouse Snowball Fight!
Alas my dear young Gryffindors will never rival Shakespeare or Tennyson, yet it served the purpose. Within the hour all the first and second years poured out of the common rooms ready to wage war and defend their house honor.
Headmistress McGonagall played her role by bustling down the corridors to my rooms. There she found me reading the latest edition of Transfiguration Weekly.
"Hermione, you must go outside at once! All the children are having a snowball fight. They really do need supervision. I am going to gather a few more of the professors."
I sighed and bundled up in my warmest clothing and headed out to the grounds. A most chaotic scene greeted me.
Every single student not old enough to go to Hogsmeade was pelting snowballs at the nearest target. Those with horrific aim were employed in creating mammoth forts to build stockpiles of snowballs and keep prisoners of war. Scarves flew in the wind and bright red cheeks glowed.
"Professor Granger, we need your help! We can't get the fort quite right. Come and help!" shouted Anthony from the Gryffindor fort. Deciding that I could aid my house in what was a noble cause, I headed over to where Anthony was struggling with a large mound of snow.
"Mr. Lewis, don't forget that you have a wand. Why don't you levitate that snow to…right there," Hermione pointed to a particularly weak spot in the wall. After a few minutes of this, I had completely forgotten that I was a professor and not a student.
I was not the only one. Professor Sprout could be seen behind the Hufflepuff fort, doing much the same work as me. A few other professors chose to help their houses or milled around looking for a particular student in need of aid.
Once the fortifications looked strong enough to withstand the pelting they were receiving, I ventured forth to see what the battlefield looked like.
The students were still going strong. It seems they thrived in the cold air and the novelty of having professors playing in the snow with them fed their enthusiasm. As I was taking in the scene, I was completely ignorant of the fate about to befall me. The last thing I remember about the fight was laughing at a couple of Hufflepuffs who dropped an oversized snow ball they were forming on themselves.
Later I would learn what exactly had happened.
Seemingly from nowhere a compact snowball flew at me. Normally this would not be a problem, but it had ice as its center and was charmed to hit me square in the head with just enough force to knock me out. It was timed specifically to the moment that Harry emerged from the castle. Apparently he cried out, "Hermione," and rushed over to where I was.
Being a knock to the head, it did start to bleed which made for a dramatic scene on the snow. All the students stopped their antics to watch the new excitement. Our years of adventures and fighting evil gave Harry the ability to assess injuries quickly and accurately. Knowing it was a head injury there could be more to it, but it did not seem too desperate to Harry.
He picked me up in his arms and carried me to the Hospital Wing. There I was laid in one of the beds and given a variety of treatments to take care of the wound. Any further problems would have to wait until I awoke.
I did not wake up until nearly the dinner hour. Harry was by my side holding my hand, staring intently at me. When I was finally able to flutter my eyes open and moan an incoherent phrase which basically meant, "My head really hurts, what happened to it?" Harry squeezed my hand.
He whispered, "How are you feeling?"
A brief additional moan prefaced my answer of, "Probably like you did after some of those Quidditch games. What happened?"
"It seems one the snowballs went astray and due to the core being of ice, knocked you out cold. You've been sleeping for nearly seven hours," he softly replied.
"That explains my headache. Have you been here the whole time?" I asked
He got that sheepish look again as he said, "Yeah."
"Oh," I replied.
Outside the door to the Hospital Wing four people groaned quietly. We couldn't hear them inside the infirmary, luckily for us.
"Good grief, will those two ever get it?" asked Nicholas.
"They are so perfect for each other, yet they dance around afraid of what the other really feels. Even Nicholas sees that they love each other!" Miranda surprisingly declared.
"Hey!" Nicholas said.
"Sorry, mate, she's right," Anthony chuckled.
After a few minutes, I said, "I would really like to return to my rooms. Mind helping me?"
"Of course. Here we go," he said as he helped me from the bed onto my feet.
Still unsteady, I had to grasp his arm to keep from falling.
"Careful there! Here," Harry said as he put his arm firmly around my waist.
When his arm circled me, I felt a strange jolt. I wondered what potions I had been given and whether this could be an aftereffect. With Harry's support I was able to slowly make it to my rooms.
Three little imps followed far enough behind that we did not notice them.
"That did not work as well as it was supposed to," declared Miranda.
"Type to come up with another plan," Anthony said.
"I think it may have done some good though," Miranda thought out loud. "Rome was not built in a day you know."
"Huh?" asked Anthony.
"Ha, for once I get something you don't!" Nicholas triumphed. "It's a muggle phrase!"
