THC, Round 7, Slytherin, Muggle Studies, Drabble.
Prompt: [First Line] There's nothing quite like the first snow of the season

Hogwarts, Hufflepuff, Assignment 12.

Epidemiology: Notable 'Demics; Task #1: Cyprian Plague (250 AD): Write about being unable to escape something/someone

Word Count: 665

Beta(s): Ash, Dhrish, Hope

There's nothing quite like the first snow of the season. It always brought joy to nine-year-old Harry Potter, who would find himself yearning to go outside. He loved the way the frost lingered in the air. How the cold, fresh iciness filled his lungs. It was like a fresh start.

Looking out of the kitchen window, he smiled to himself as he looked at the layer of snow which covered the back garden. It was completely undisturbed, unlike the front garden where the postman had walked through, and a rogue raccoon had dared to cross. While Harry loved staring at the freshly laid snow, one thing he loved about the first snow of the season was listening to the snow crunching under his feet.

All he had to wait for was a reason to leave, any reason to escape the stuffy confines of 4 Privet Drive.

"Boy!" his uncle snapped. "Bring me my breakfast."

Harry quickly tore his eyes away from the glorious snow and quickly spread a too-thick layer of butter on the toast he had abandoned. He quickly collected the bacon and sausage from the frying pan.

"Boy!" came his uncle's voice again.

In a rush, Harry grabbed the plate and watched in horror as a piece of bacon slid off the plate. He held back a gasp and looked up. Uncle Vernon hadn't noticed yet. He didn't want to be locked in his room - cupboard - all day and miss the first snow of the season. Quickly, he grabbed the bacon and popped it back onto the plate, then picked it up and carried it over to his uncle. "Here you go, Uncle Vernon."

With a grunt which Harry decided was a thank you, his uncle started shoving it into his mouth.

"Dudley, darling," his aunt's voice squeaked, the sound of it ringing around Harry's ears. "You need your hat and gloves on if you're going to go outside. We don't want you getting a cold."

"But the hat is the same one from last year!" Dudley complained.

"We'll get you a new one soon. This snow came out of nowhere," Aunt Petunia promised, placing the hat on Dudley's head.

Harry watched longingly as Dudley was given many layers to ensure he wasn't cold. But he didn't dwell on that—well, he tried not to. He didn't mind the cold. He actually quite liked it sometimes.

He stepped forward, being careful not to get in the way of his aunt or cousin.

"Oh," Aunt Petunia said suddenly. "Harry, the bathroom is a mess. Go and clean it before you go outside."

Dread filled young Harry. He knew what that meant. Likely Dudley had made a huge mess; what was it this time? All he knew was that he would likely have to do a long list of chores before he was allowed outside.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," he replied after a second and headed up the stairs. He couldn't stop himself from turning back and watching Dudley jump out into the freshly fallen snow, his footprints being embedded in the white sheet.

With a sigh, he headed into the bathroom and cleaned up what looked to be shampoo sprayed over the floor. That was relatively easy. What wasn't were the more complicated jobs that followed: cleaning the toilet, tidying and hoovering Dudley's bedroom, and watering the inside plants.

As the day went on and the bright sun shone down, the snow slowly dwindled away into nothing. Every time Harry thought he had finished, they always found something else for him to do.

He was never able to escape this house. Never able to get out and hear his footprint crunch down the ice-cold snow. Never allowed to be happy.

When he had finally finished all the housework, he ate the leftovers which Petunia wasn't able to eat and was sent to his small bedroom under the stairs.

One day, he'd go and enjoy the first snow of the season. One day, he'd escape this place.