As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy grey and the lake like chilled steel. The Slytherin Common Rooms were always the worst in Winter, and Bella had come to look forward to the hot water bottles stuffed in under the layers of her bed. Every morning the school grounds were covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaver skin boots.
Bella had received the Special Award for Services to the School for saving the little Gryffindors from the troll, and she'd felt rather wonderful stepping up to the dais at dinner one week after the events of Halloween night, trying her best not to smirk as Dumbledore handed her the large, gold shield. Filch took a picture of them together with the shield, and then the shield was sent off to the trophy room to join all the rest. Bella had only visited it there once.
The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Bella was very competitive when it came to house points, but she couldn't help but be curious about how the Boy Wonder would fare as Gryffindor's new seeker. On rare occasions, the three Gryffindors she had saved from the troll would seek Bella out in the library, either just to say hello or to ask her a question about their homework.
Little Hermione Granger was always the most daring, sitting opposite with tomes larger than her body, pestering Bella about whatever she was working on at the time because the staff had told her Bella was one of the best at school. If she was worried about Bella being a Slytherin, she certainly didn't show it. Bella began to wonder which of the Gryffindors had rat her out as 'the nice one', and wondered if she should be concerned about what the other Slytherins might label her for spending time with a muggleborn.
She didn't really mind. Granger was exceptionally bright, and could usually keep up with Bella's rare mini-lessons on defensive magic. Soon, Granger learned that Bella knew more about Defence Against the Dark Arts than Professor Quirrell, and was certainly a better teacher than him.
The morning of the match dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match. Bella tucked into her breakfast eagerly, nose half-buried in the new book she'd found on Magical Water Plants of the Highland Lochs.
By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Bella made sure she was bundled up nice and warm in one of the Slytherin assigned stands, her wool-glove-clad hands wrapped around her binoculars. She could see a large banner in one of the Gryffindor stands across from her, painted over one of their bedsheets. It said Potter for President, which made Bella smile, and one of them had drawn a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Someone—and Bella suspected Granger—had performed a charm so that the paint flashed different colours.
Bella liked to watch Quidditch, but she wouldn't exactly call herself a fanatic. She liked the idea of brooms and flying, but she didn't like the idea of getting battered and muddy fighting her way through another team. Still, she wanted Slytherin to win, and she was curious about exactly how good Harry was to earn a spot on the highly competitive Gryffindor team as young as he was. He had the build for a seeker, she supposed, tiny and thin and perfect for the gleaming racing broom he was on.
It wasn't until halfway through the match that Harry caught her attention at all. Harry's broom had begun to behave very strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went. Soon, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.
Bella's eyes flashed wide. She knew from her books that nothing could interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic. Bella brought her binoculars out and looked through the staff stand, which was entertaining quite a few parents. Except she couldn't find anyone with their wand out, and Bella shifted her binoculars back to Harry when another gasp went out through the crowd.
His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasley twins flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good—every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.
"Damn it McGonagall, do something," Bella muttered darkly to herself.
And then, just as quickly as it began, it had stopped. Harry was quick to clamber back on to his docile broom. Bella huffed out a breath of relief, sagging back into her seat. She kept her binoculars on him, watching the boy speed toward the ground before he clapped a hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick—he hit the field on all fours—coughed—and something gold fell into his hand.
"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.
"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference—Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results—Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Even Bella couldn't find herself to be really upset about it. This was the biggest loss Slytherin had faced in years, but Harry was alive, and that was something at least.
Before long, it was almost Christmas. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his ever-smelly turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.
No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Great Hall had a roaring fire, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were the Slytherin common room and the dungeons they resided in, where their breath rose in a mist before them and where the Slytherins huddled as close as possible to their green-flamed fireplaces.
Bella, as usual, would not be going back to Castle Lestrange for Christmas. Professor Snape had come around the week before, making a list of Slytherin students who would be staying for the holidays, and as usual, Bella was the only name on the list. She never really envied her fellow housemates going home to large family gatherings and a mountain of gifts beneath their trees. Hogwarts was her home. If she had it her way, she'd be staying here in the summers too.
She'd noticed, over the past month, that her little Gryffindors had been spending an awful lot more time in the library than usual. Bella would've thought nothing of it if she hadn't seen them come in the day before students were set to leave for Christmas. She thought it odd how they looked away from her too quickly, and didn't stop by to ask for help and annoy her like they usually did. It was very obvious they were up to something, but Bella figured after the troll that maybe she was better off not knowing. Then again, she might've been able to get two special merit shields in one school year. She quite liked the idea of that.
Bella was rather surprised come Christmas morning to find more presents at the foot of her bed than she was used to. There was the standard roughly whittled wooden trinket from Hagrid, a troll this time—or at least that was what Bella assumed it was meant to be. Bella grinned at his sense of humour. The second was from Fester through the farce of her grandmother's name. Several of her favourite homemade Christmas treats, an enchanted flask of eggnog and a Christmas Card that sang her a different carol every time she opened it. Fester liked to spoil her.
The third one was a very lumpy parcel. Bella opened it to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in grey so pale it looked like silver, marked with a big letter B. Enclosed within the sweater was a large box of homemade fudge and a note.
Ron's been writing to me about you ever since you saved him from the mountain troll on Halloween. I hope I'll be able to thank you in person one day dear, Merry Christmas. — Molly Weasley.
Bella felt all warm and fuzzy inside, flushing pink. She grinned, quickly tugging the sweater on over her flannel pyjamas. It was just as soft as it looked, and Bella felt as if she was getting hugged. Her next present was another book, this time from Hermione. Advanced Duelling by Vindictus Viridian. She had scrawled a note onto the cover page, for the next time you have to save us from something terrible — Hermione J. Granger. Bella chuckled. The next was a half-hearted handmade Christmas Card from Ron, and last, a tulip in a charmed pot from Harry. Bella smiled. Hermione helped me keep it alive in the greenhouses — Harry.
Bella felt a lot better about sending gifts to her little Gryffindors. She'd sent Ron a new wizard's chess set, after she'd seen how much he played in the Great Hall after classes. For Hermione, she'd settled on a stack of her favourite, more obscure books, and for Harry, the very same curse book she'd caught him looking at the day they'd met. She'd left a little note in Harry's, in case you still want to curse your cousin — B. C. L.
The Weasley twins beckoned Bella over for Christmas dinner, which she didn't have to think twice about. It was much nicer to sit at the Gryffindor table than to sit alone for the feast. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce—and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table.
Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Bella and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Harry could hear Bella's loud peals of laughter through the smoke as it cleared, grinning goofily at her when he could finally see her. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.
Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy Weasley nearly broke his teeth on a silver Sickle embedded in his slice. Bella watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Bella's amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided.
When Bella finally left the table, she was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of non-explodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and her own new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Bella had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs. Norris's Christmas dinner. She still wouldn't consider the Gryffindors her friends, but she supposed Christmas had a habit of bringing everyone together.