The Tales of Black I (Original)

Chapter Nine: December

[Chapter Nine]

The month passed by fast, and soon it was December.

“TERRY, WAKE UP, IT’S SNOWING!” I shouted one Sunday morning.

Terry, by now being used to this, merely pushed me off as he sat up, stretching and yawning.

“Are you going home for Christmas?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“Nah, I’m staying here,” I said. “It’ll be nice and quiet.”

“I’m going back home,” Terry said.

I waited as he dressed, and then we walked down to the Great Hall where the twins greeted us. When we finished eating, we went outside where we tried to walk on the frozen lake.

“Ouch!” I cried after falling the fifth time.

Fred laughed, holding his hand out to me.

“Come on,” he said, pulling me to my feet. He gripped my hand as he helped me walk without falling on the lake.

We had moved a small distance away from Terry and George, who were searching for the giant squid under the ice.

I shivered. I had dug through my trunk this morning, searching for a jumper that wasn’t thin like the ones in our school uniform, but I hadn’t been successful.

I gave a loud yelp when something fuzzy and blue was shoved over my head.

“There, now you won’t be shaking like a little dog,” Fred said, grinning.

I looked down to see a blue, hand-knitted jumper, sporting the letter “F” in yellow. Hoping my blush wasn’t obvious, I pushed my arms though the sleeves. It was big on me (I couldn’t even find my hands in the bloody thing), but it was warm and had a nice, musky scent to it.

“Come on, let’s go goof off,” he said.

“Then what have we been doing this entire time?” I asked.

“No idea,” he said, helping me back onto the ground. He bent down and packed a handful of snow into a ball and threw it at George. “Come on!” He grabbed my arm and we went racing towards the castle.

“Oh, look, it’s Professor Quirrell,” I said as George and Terry caught up to us.

“Quick, help me make some more,” said Fred, bending down and scooping up more snow.

We all made one of our own, holding them numbly in out bare hands. Fred flicked his wand and they went shooting off toward Quirrell, bouncing off his turban. They followed him into the entrance hall as well, and we peered around the corner, watching (and giggling) as he walked up the marble staircase, still not noticing.

The next day, the snow had piled into a thick, fluffy blanket over the school grounds and it was colder than the day before, so I pulled Fred’s jumper (he refused to take it back) over uniform and then tugged my robes over it.

It was six forty-five when I got down to the common room. Terry wasn’t there. We hadn’t eaten outside in a while, so I thought we might try that.

I snuck up to the boy’s dormitory and cracked the door open. When I entered, I let out a soft chuckle.

Stephen was laying eagle spread with his head hanging off the side, Kevin was sprawled across the floor, and Anthony was drooling merrily into his pillow.

I prodded Terry on the shoulder and he lazily opened one eye.

“What, no yelling?” he asked groggily.