The Wizard's Cold
a Harry Potter story
by Snuffles
It had started out as just an average day at Hogwarts, with nothing much to look forward to but a usual day filled with the usual classes. Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, having breakfast before classes. Harry was half-heartedly playing with his food. He wasn't feeling very hungry this morning. In fact, he wasn't really feeling all that well at all. For the first time since the beginning of term, Ron had been the one to drag Harry out of bed instead of the other way around, and Harry had dragged his feet all the way down to breakfast, feeling heavy-lidded and achy all around.
Now, he sat staring into space, keeping mainly out of the conversations going on around him, wishing he could be back in bed for another hour of sleep.
"Ah, post!" Ron said happily next to him, eyeing the flock of owls that flew into the Great Hall and started circling over the tables, finding their intended addressees.
Harry wasn't paying much attention to them, as he was busy rubbing his nose, squinting a little at the tickle that bothered it. He knew he had to sneeze; it was only a matter of it finally coming out. He sniffled and reached out for a clean napkin, raising it slowly to his face, feeling the tickle grow exponentially.
"Ehh... ehhECKshoo!" he sneezed, pushing the napkin to his nose.
"Bless you, Harry," Ron said at his side, reaching for the letter Pigwidgeon had dropped in his scrambled eggs.
Harry was just about thank him, when several cries of amazement and the sound of multiple feathery thuds amidst the tables caught everyone's attention. It appeared to be raining baby owls.
Harry and Ron watched wide eyed as a walnut-sized ball of fluff appeared just where Pig had been and dropped in Harry's juice. Ron hastily fished the squawking tiny owl from the goblet and put it in front of them, eyeing it closely. "Is that Pig?" he asked astonished.
Hermione, who had stood up and watched the rest of the hall as it erupted in amazed shouts and surprise, sat back down and said: "It must be. It looks like every owl in here has turned into a chick again. What could have caused such a thing?"
Harry furtively stole a glance at Fred and George, but they seemed just as surprised as the rest of the students as they held up a young and fluffy Errol.
The cacophony of noise that had erupted slowly faded as Dumbledore stood and asked for attention. "We are as of yet not sure what caused your owls to regress," he spoke calmly, "but those of you who now have a baby owl in your possession, do not worry about your pet. After breakfast, bring them up to the teacher's table and Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick will charm your owls back to their normal size. We foresee no side-effects to this dilemma. Now, you may all continue your breakfast. Do try the jam croissants, they are excellent this morning, if I may say so myself." Dumbledore sat down again and the teachers huddled together around him, clearly discussing what could have been the reason for the owls' transgression.
Slowly the normal sounds filled the hall again, albeit rather more excited than usual. Several girls kept squealing in delight at the chicks hooting cutely, and students argued wildly about keeping their owl this way, while others worried if their owl would be up to delivery that day after it was transfigured to its regular state. Of course, most of the discussions were based on why the owls had reverted to their younger states in the first place.
Hermione, though utterly infatuated by the infinitesimal Pig squeaking in the palm of Ron's hand, was talking a mile a minute, theorising on possible spells or potions and if the teachers had figured it out themselves, and complaining on how she wouldn't be able to go to the library to check things out until the end of the day.
Harry couldn't get too worked up about the mystery of the owls. Odd phenomena happened all the time at Hogwarts, and he was a little distracted at the moment. His throat had started to feel scratchy and raw, making swallowing an unpleasantness he didn't care much for, and forcing him to carefully sip some hot tea instead of eating breakfast. His head felt heavy and his eyes swollen, which alongside the tired feeling in his muscles gave him the distinct impression he was coming down with something. Besides that, he kept having the feeling he had to sneeze again. It didn't help that Ron kept laughing at him for making funny faces as he grimaced against the tea gliding down his throat or the annoying sensation in his nose.
It wasn't until most of the students, including Ron, were making their way over to the teacher's table to have their owls changed back that the tickle finally worked itself into another sneeze. He lowered his head and inhaled shakily, reaching for the napkin again.
"Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione asked him, watching him a little worriedly.
Harry nodded, unable to speak just then, and his head bobbed forward with another harsh "Hahh... ahhECKshuh!"
"Bless y..." Hermione's voice faded, and she blinked, looking at the Gryffindors surrounding her and slowly took in the fact that their robes, instead of their normal black, had miraculously turned a violent yellow. Looking around, she noticed the same for everyone who was present in the Hall, even the teachers, who were looking around just as astonished as everyone else.
For a moment nothing but stumped silence sounded in the hall.
"What the..." said Hermione, after which the rest of her sentence was drowned out as once again the great hall reverberated with loud shouts and exclamations.
"Yellow?!" Lavender cried out. "I can't wear yellow! It clashes with my complexion!"
"And these were brand-new robes too!" Dean groaned loudly. "My parents will kill me."
"What in Merlin's name is happening?!" Katie Bell called to Lee Jordan, who shrugged his shoulders and sat back contentedly to watch the ensuing chaos.
"You didn't have anything to do with this, did you?" Angelina asked Fred over the din, who shouted in reply: "I wish!"
Harry and Hermione in the meanwhile simply sat next to each other at the Gryffindor table, watching students run from the hall to change their clothes before classes, while the teachers were dealing both with a hundred and one questions from all sides plus dozens of students presenting them with excitedly hooting baby owls.
Ron elbowed his way back to his friends' side, a full-grown Pigwidgeon - who was nevertheless still as tiny as many of the chicks - clenched tightly in his fist. He grinned widely at them. "Can you believe this?" he asked, motioning to his yellow robes, Pig hooting happily in his waving grip. "What do you think caused all this?"
Both Harry and Hermione had to admit ignorance, though Hermione did have a thoughtful frown on her face, eyeing Harry from the corner of her eyes as he furtively wiped his nose with his yellow sleeve.
Slowly the Great Hall emptied, as students made their way to their respective classes, either in their yellow robes or newly changed into black ones. Rumours were that McGonagall would be transfiguring yellow robes back into black ones during Transfiguration, so Harry, Ron and Hermione kept on their yellow ones and trudged up to the Transfiguration classroom which was their first class of the day.
The fact was that Professor McGonagall did not transfigure their robes back to black. They had to do it themselves, as the lesson of the day. Harry had a hard time paying attention during her explanation of the process - his head felt stuffy and an nasty headache made his head pound in synch with his heartbeat - and as a result his robes turned rather a murky sort of brown than black. Still, he was better off than Neville, who ended up in robes which were black with yellow polka-dots, and Parvati, who accidentally shrank her robes instead - to great fascination of the boys present. Finally, by the end of class, after much hilarity, blushing and frustration, McGonagall had everyone sorted out and back in their original black robes.
Just as she was writing down their homework for the next lesson, Harry was again plagued by an incoming sneeze. Sniffling somewhat stuffily, he brought up his sleeve and muffled a "HepTSHmm" in his sleeve.
Looking up and blinking his watery eyes, he found everyone, including McGonagall, staring at him. All of them were once again dressed in neon yellow robes, except for Harry himself, whose robes were still black.
"Er," he said, quailing under their gazes. "What?"
Professor McGonagall, brandishing even a yellow hat, walked over to his side and put her hand on his shoulder. "If you would kindly come with me, Mr Potter," she said gently, motioning for him to follow her.
He stood hesitantly and looked at Ron, who raised his eyebrows at him, showing he wasn't sure what this was about either. Hermione seemed to be nodding to herself, and gave Harry a sympathetic smile as he walked past. After McGonagall exited the room with him he could hear the rest of his classmates erupt in excited chatter.
"What's this about, Professor?" he asked timidly, as he followed his head of house down the hallway.
"You feeling alright, Potter?" she asked instead, ignoring his question. "Feeling a little under the weather?"
"A little, I suppose," muttered Harry, not really comfortable talking about his stuffy cold.
"Sneezing a lot?" she asked.
"Some," he said frowning, wondering where she was going with this. It wasn't as if he was seriously ill or anything. Usually they let students find the school matron themselves when they were feeling unwell. McGonagall hardly ever got involved, especially when it was something as common as a cold.
However, they soon found themselves in front of the hospital wing, and McGonagall ushered him inside, calling for Madam Pomfrey.
He was told to sit on one of the beds while Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall huddled together, mumbling to each other something Harry could not hear. McGonagall left then, and Madam Pomfrey bustled over to him, telling him she was going to check him over.
She took his temperature, listened to his chest as she told him to cough, and asked him how he was feeling. Harry felt very self-conscious as he was forced to tell her his symptoms - all the while affirming her that he "wasn't feeling that bad, honestly" - but all she did was hum and nod, and finally she waved her wand around him and had it emit a stream of green and orange sparks.
Just then Professor Dumbledore walked in, smiling brightly at Harry. "Well then, Harry," he said in his cheerful voice, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses. "Minerva tells me you are having a bit of a bother with a bout of Wizard's cold. Is this true?" he turned his look to Madam Pomfrey.
"That's rightly so, Headmaster," Pomfrey nodded. "Definitely Wizard's cold."
"Ah," said Dumbledore, nodding sagely. "We haven't seen that for a while now, have we?"
"Um, excuse me?" Harry said bewildered. "I have what?"
"No need to worry yourself," Dumbledore assured him. "Wizard's cold might be quite rare - in fact, I do wonder where you contracted it at all - but it is no different from a muggle cold."
"Except for the fact that when you sneeze, the pressure in your head makes you temporarily loose control of your magical ability, allowing for such spontaneous bursts of magic as we all witnessed at breakfast this morning," Pomfrey droned to his right, poring a vial of smoking potion into a goblet of water.
Dumbledore nodded his assent with her explanation.
Harry shook his head in disbelief. "You mean," he asked skeptically, "that I did all those things this morning? The owls and the robes?"
"Quite right," Dumbledore chuckled. "And giving us all a very eventful morning at that, I must say."
"But..." Harry winced, scraping his throat painfully as his voice came out rather as a croak than a word. He tried again with more success. "But I've never seen anything like what happened this morning happen before. I can't be the only one to ever have this here, can I?"
"Of course not," Pomfrey said briskly, twirling the goblet in her hand to mix the fluids. "It is quite rare, yes, but not unforeseen. I've treated students afflicted with this before."
"Normally, only small things would happen, like sparkles flying from your wand or minor transfigurations of the sort," Dumbledore explained to him, smiling warmly. "Now, you may or may not have noticed this, Harry, but you have rather a great deal of magical potential, therefore the effects of your magical cold seem to be somewhat bigger than we are normally used to."
"Oh," said Harry softly.
"However, I see no need for you to discontinue your classes over few sneezes. I'm sure my staff will be more than able to deal quite satisfactorily with whatever you might conjure up because of your itchy nose. Poppy here has something to make you feel better, as you must be feeling rather miserable right now."
Harry didn't really know how to respond to this, not used to people worrying over him when he was feeling sick, and simply stared down at his hands, nodding a little.
"Take this, Potter," Pomfrey told him, shoving the goblet into his hand. "Pepper-up potion. Unfortunately it won't make the cold go away as it would a muggle cold, but it will still make you feel a lot better than you do now."
Harry drank the potion quickly - familiar with how they all usually tasted like petrol and were better consumed quickly rather than slow - and he felt it burn its way down his throat unpleasantly, making him cough a little. But it almost instantly relieved him of the headache and the soreness in his throat, and he sighed a in relief. "Thank you," he told Madam Pomfrey, who nodded sternly at him.
"Now, keep this handkerchief with you, Potter," she thrust one in his hand, "and try not to spread those germs too much." She gave him a rare smile then. "Feel better soon, and come back tomorrow if you don't." With that she walked over to the next room, closing the door behind her.
"Now then," Dumbledore said pleasantly, standing up from the bed next to Harry's, which he'd been sitting on. "I do believe I have some business to see to in my office. If you will excuse me, Harry. I'm sure you have classes to attend."
Harry wasn't really paying attention. Instead, he'd been concentrating on not sneezing again and was failing rather miserably at it. Sniffling softly, he sneezed "ihhHishoo!" in his new handkerchief before he could stop himself.
With a loud 'BANG!' Dumbledore's tall hat disappeared in a cloud of smoke and was replaced by Fawkes, who gave an indignant squawk at being treated in such a manner, flapping his wings wildly and finding his balance by way of the old wizard's ears.
Dumbledore looked rather baffled for a second or two at finding a swan-sized bird on his head, but then chuckled merrily and said, "There, there, Fawkes, no harm done," after which the phoenix settled quite comfortably on the headmaster's head, preparing to continue his disrupted nap.
Harry ducked his head, face burning bright red, and mumbled: "Sorry."
"Quite alright, Harry, as I said, no harm done," Dumbledore said good-naturedly. "I have no doubt I will find my hat again on Fawkes' perch. Feel better soon." And he walked off to his office, chatting companionably to the bird swaying on his head.
Harry sat blinking dazedly for a minute, feeling yet more sneezes wanting to get out, and thought it better to do it now that he was alone, than after he had joined the students body again and causing who knew what.
He breathed shakily, sniffing wetly every few seconds and trying to coax the sneezes out, keeping his handkerchief clenched in his fist. "ehh... hehh..." he hitched, until finally he felt the tickle bloom into a full sneeze. "EhhKishoo! Ahh... AhhCSHOO!"
He blew his nose when he was done, then tentatively opened his eyes, wondering what he'd have caused this time. Staring wide-eyed at the room, it wasn't hard to overlook.
Every corner and table was covered with enormous vases filled with every sort of flower imaginable - which definitely hadn't been there before. In fact, the hospital wing was looking rather more like a greenhouse, or perhaps a small jungle, than a hospital right about then. Hoping that that was all he'd done, he jumped off the bed and padded over to the exit. He wondered if he ought to tell Madam Pomfrey what'd happened, but figured he'd better try and be on time for his charms lesson - though it had more to do with the fact that he wasn't exactly sure he wanted to face her wrath right then, mortified as he already was. Closing the door behind him, he took off at a bit of a run.
He entered the charms classroom just in time. The other Gryffindors were already there, but Flitwick seemed to be running a bit late, so he had a few minutes time to talk to Hermione and Ron about what Dumbledore had told him was wrong with him.
"I already thought so," Hermione said smartly as Harry explained, still feeling rather uncomfortable with the subject even with his best friends. He hated drawing attention to the state of his health.
"Wizard's cold?" said Ron excitedly. "Cool! I remember Bill coming down with that once, drove my mother crazy with all the transfiguring her household into birds and rodents. He sneezed my maroon sweater into blue socks once, did me a favour really. Hey, maybe I ought to have you sneeze on my old trainers or something." He grinned impishly.
"I hardly think Harry can control what he brings about as he sneezes," Hermione lectured, while Harry nodded his agreement with her. "Anyway, the effects seem to be rather larger than what you are thinking off. Just remember what he did this morning during breakfast."
"Harry did all that?" Ron asked impressed. "Wow, that is some cold Harry!"
Harry groaned. "Just, let's not talk about it anymore, okay. It's embarrassing really."
Ron and Hermione grudgingly agreed to let the subject drop for now, and all three of them were forced into silence when seconds later Flitwick finally arrived.
Besides Ron eyeing him all the time to see if he had to sneeze yet, the rest of the classes weren't actually that bad for Harry. Thanks to the Pepper-up potion he didn't feel as rough anymore as before, and he didn't have as much trouble concentrating on the lessons either.
He didn't sneeze at all during charms, and he only once sneezed silently during History of Magic, allowing nothing more than a slight bob of his head as he pinched both his nostrils shut, which no one noticed, and with that he caused merely one book to go blank, which luckily was his own.
It was only during the last class of the day, which, tragically enough just had to be potions, that the fierce tickling in his nose returned to him.
Snape had put each of them in front of their own cauldron to create a hair-care potion - something he obviously didn't use himself - but Harry was paying more attention to the state of his itching nose than to the bubbling potion in front of him. He sniffed softly, and kept squeezing his nose to rid himself of the unsettling feeling that he'd have to sneeze soon.
"I know all about your unfortunate little cold, Potter," Snape hissed at him from the corner of his mouth as he walked past to check on the Gryffindor potions. "And don't you dare sneeze in my class."
Harry eyed him helplessly, knowing he could never hold it back if he really had to sneeze, and as far as he could tell, he really had to sneeze.
His breathing became irregular even as he desperately tried to rub the tickle away. The first sneeze escaped him before he even fully realised he'd lost the battle.
"Ekishmmph!"
Even if it had been muffled by his sleeve, stunned silence followed in the wake of his sneeze.
Harry risked a glance at Ron sitting next to him, who was staring at Snape with a stunned expression on his face, turning redder and redder until Harry thought Ron's head was about to explode. Just as he finally dared to look up at his teacher, gales and gales of laughter erupted in the dank classroom, echoing down the dungeons. Even the Slytherins were rolling around on the floor in mirth.
"POTTER!" Snape bellowed.
Harry, with his sleeve still pressed to his face, goggled at what he'd done. Snape was back in Neville's grandmother's clothes - the sequinned green dress, the big red handbag, the hat with the stuffed vulture on top - but this wasn't just a boggart Snape... this was the real Snape!
Harry banged his head against the table. He was soooo dead.
He wished he could have made a run for it then, but as Snape towered over him he felt his breathing turned erratic again and sat poised for the next sneeze, cursing his fate, knowing it was coming fast. His eyes fluttered shut.
"Don't you dare, Potter!" Snape boomed over his head.
"EckShoo!"
A swift rushing filled his ears, as if a small tornado had suddenly caught and surrounded him. When it left him after less than a second, he looked up only to find that he wasn't sitting in the dungeon anymore. Instead, he found himself looking at the familiar drapes of his four-poster bed. He'd sneezed himself straight into Gryffindor tower.
"Bloody hell," he breathed. He wondered if Snape would be happy that he'd left or angry that he'd done so without permission. Probably happy if he knew that Harry still had a few sneezes left in him.
Sitting on the edge of his bed he allowed himself to sneeze freely to finally get rid of the fierce burning in his nose. "ihh... aahhAtchoo... hehh... ahh... ESSCH! ISHaah. Uhh..."
He panted a little, waiting for one more sneeze he knew was in there, grateful when it finally rushed from him in a great "EhhYISHoo!"
He didn't notice that outside it started raining, then hailing, then snowing and then clearing up again in quick succession.
After that he felt better and pulled out his handkerchief to blow his runny nose in - he was glad Madam Pomfrey had given it to him, as it was obviously charmed. No matter how many times he used it, whenever he pulled it out again it was once again clean and crisp in his hands.
He stared blankly into the room for a few minutes, getting his bearings, wondering whether he ought to make his way back down to the potions classroom. He probably should, Snape would skin him if he just stayed away like this. Reluctantly hopping off the bed and dragging his way all the way down the stairs from Gryffindor tower, he ran into the rest of his class before he was halfway down to the dungeons.
"Harry!" Ron called. "There you are!"
"What did you do, Harry?!" Hermione cried. "There was this rushing of air and you just vanished!"
Harry couldn't quite explain it himself, as he had no idea what he'd done. "I just found myself in our bedroom instead of the classroom," he said weakly, blushing under their stares. "I don't know what happened."
"Wow, Harry, do you think you apparated?" Ron asked excitedly.
"Don't be silly, Ron. You know you can't apparate or disapparate on Hogwarts grounds. I've told you enough times," Hermione said haughtily, though she shot Harry a curious glance.
"Do you think I should go down and explain to Snape what happened?" Harry asked them, quite willing to change the subject. "Not that it'll do me any good, I'd think."
Ron shook his head. "Snape dismissed class after you disappeared. I wouldn't go down there if I were you, he was in a right rage, I tell you! Best to let him cool down and face him again next lesson, after he's had a weekend to sort himself out and when you hopefully won't be sneezing anymore... entertaining though it may be."
Hermione nodded her agreement. "Better count your losses as it stands now, Harry. He'll kill you if he sees you now."
Now that they knew Harry was okay, Ron suddenly doubled over in laughter. "Ruddy brilliant, what you did!" he gasped, snorting. "Snape... handbag... vulture..." he choked, laughing hysterically, head as red as his hair.
Hermione leaned against him and broke into giggles. "Oh, oh, the look on his face!"
Harry couldn't help but smile at their hilarity. "I am in so much trouble," he said grinning, remembering the abject look of horror on Snape's sour face as he found himself with a vulture on his head.
"Oh yeah," Hermione said between laughing, pulling the two boys along with her by their arms, down to the Great Hall for dinner.
They were amongst the first to arrive, but it didn't take long for the hall to fill up with students after the end of classes. Snape's place at the teacher's table stayed conspicuously empty.
"Afraid to show his face," Ron said smugly. Snape was the talk of the moment at their table during dinner.
Though Harry couldn't help but share a little in his classmates glee, he was distinctly uncomfortable about it too. He didn't like people staring at him before, and they were doing it doubly now. Everyone seemed to be eyeing him carefully, wondering what he was going to bring about next. It didn't help that his cold was in fact still bothering him, and that their expectations of him doing something again weren't that far-fetched. Unable to stand it, he stood and excused himself from the table early, slinking off into the Entrance Hall and vaguely planning to head off to bed early to end this bizarre day.
Ron followed him out from the Great Hall, falling into step next to him. "You alright, Harry?"
"Fine," Harry said, shivering a little in the draft coming from the entrance gate. "I just..." he paused, frowning.
"Do you have to sneeze, Harry?" Ron asked eagerly.
"Actually, yes," Harry said, frustrated, fumbling for his handkerchief.
Ron watched him expectantly.
"Would you not do that?!" Harry said exasperated.
"Oh, alright," said Ron, stepping back, but still keeping watch from the corner of his eye.
Harry didn't notice anymore, though, as he was too busy concentrating on having to sneeze. "Ahh... ahh..." he breathed, then lost it.
He blinked up dazedly, rubbing at his nose. "I think it's gone," he said. Ron looked rather disappointed.
Just as they were about to head off again, Harry suddenly froze and breathed in harshly, as the sensation returned with a vengeance. "Huhh... AhhKISHhoo!" he sneezed violently, doubling over at the waist.
A loud resounding 'POP' sounded right next to him. He almost didn't dare to, but then looked up slowly in apprehension.
Where Ron had stood, there was now a rather disgruntled looking ostrich.
"Kaah!" the bird shrieked angrily.
"Ron?" Harry breathed in horror. "Oh no, I'm sorry!"
Ron turned on his axis, looking at himself with his beady little bird's eyes, the tiny bald head letting out increasingly frustrated shrieks.
Just at that moment McGonagall rounded the corner and halted as she got sight of Harry.
"Potter, what are you-" she gasped as she noticed the ostrich trying to peck him. "What in Merlin's name is that?"
"Ron."
McGonagall blinked. "You're telling me that this giant bird is in fact Mr Weasley."
Harry nodded miserably.
She blanched. "Right, well, ahem. I'll just take Mr Weasley up to my office then and sort him out. Don't worry you two," she said confidently, getting over the shock. "I'll have this sorted out in no time."
Harry sighed in relief, looking on as the ruffled bird - carrying a distinctly red-tinged plumage - strutted after their Transfiguration teacher, eager to get out of the Hall and the public eye.
"Should I come with you?" Harry asked anxiously, wringing his hands.
"You don't have to sneeze right now, do you?" McGonagall asked apprehensively.
"No, Professor," Harry intoned meekly, feeling lower than low.
She thought about it a short moment. "It's not really necessary, Potter, but if you want you can come."
"Kaah!" the ostrich emitted behind her, looking both exasperated and flustered, shaking his beaked head from right to left.
"It seems Mr Weasley would prefer the de-feathering to be done in private," McGonagall interpreted. "Quite understandable, as it's not very pretty. You go ahead and get to your common room, Potter. Mr Weasley will join you soon in his normal appendage." She seemed rather relieved that she didn't have to fear being sneezed into an ostrich herself by bringing Harry.
Harry nodded abjectly and watched Ron wobble off with her. At least no one had seen what had happened - everyone was still in the great Hall having dinner - sparing Ron the humiliation of being teased to death by what Harry had done to him.
Harry definitely wasn't in the mood anymore to seek out the soon-to-be-filled-by-students common room. He sulked off to find a place where he could be alone.
Hermione heard of what happened from McGonagall, after finding neither Ron nor Harry in the common room where she'd expected them to be. Already suspecting that something else related to Harry's unfortunate cold had happened, she had sought out her head of house to hear that Ron was in her office moulting, and Harry had been last seen in the Entrance Hall.
After having looked in all Harry's usual hideouts within the castle, Hermione walked down to the lake, following the path around it she and Harry had walked so many times during their fourth year, when Harry and Ron had not seen eye to eye and Harry and Hermione were worrying about Harry's chances at surviving the tasks in the Triwizard Tournament.
It didn't take long for her to see him, sitting on a grassy spot surrounded by tall pine trees at the edge of the lake, a place the three of them often congregated to when the weather turned warm and sunny in the spring. Now, however, it was cold and windy, and Hermione pulled her cloak close around her as she stepped closer to him.
"Harry," she called out to him as she neared him, as not to scare him with her sudden presence.
He looked around at her, and she wasn't sure if he was pleased to see her or not. He simply turned back to his reverie of the lake, not acknowledging her, but he also didn't call to her to leave him alone.
She watched him sit for a moment before breaking the strained silence. "You shouldn't be out here. You're already sick, and it's really cold here."
He turned his head and gave her a faint smile. "I used a warming spell on this spot," he told her, his voice sounding whispery hoarse. "I'm quite comfortable actually."
She came closer and sat down next to him, and indeed it was pleasantly warm where they sat, as if she'd come out of the shadow to stand in the summer's sun. She gave a little content sigh and loosened the tight hold she'd had on the cloak.
"That was smart thinking, Harry," she told him.
"Hmm," he hummed a little in answer, looking at his knees. "Better to be sitting out here alone than inside and wreck whatever havoc I've been creating ever since I got this stupid cold. This way at least I'm not bothering anyone."
Hermione felt herself reaching out to him. He sounded so miserable she just wanted to gather him up in her arms and make him feel better. Instead, she decided to try and break through his bad mood a little.
"Nobody minds, Harry. We're all your friends remember? It's not like it's your fault."
"Nothing is ever really my fault is it?" Harry said bitterly. "That doesn't stop things from happening anyway."
"Oh come off it Harry. It's not like it's the end of the world," she told him sternly, hoping a little perspective would snap him out of it. "It's just a cold. So stuff happens when you sneeze. It's actually rather funny when you think about it. People will be talking about what happened to Snape for years."
Harry chuckled a little, unable to withstand the hilarious image of Granny!Snape for very long. "That was rather funny, wasn't it?"
"Right up there with the amazing bouncing ferret," Hermione assured. "And I'm sure even Ron will see the funny side of his little hex as soon as the spell works itself out. No one but you and McGonagall ever even saw him as an ostrich. He wouldn't want you to beat yourself up over something so trite. He knows you didn't mean for that to happen."
"You sure?" Harry asked in a little voice.
"Positive."
They sat in comfortable silence for a some time after that, basking in the warmth of Harry's warming spell and relaxing on the grass while watching the Giant Squid's tentacles rise lazily from the placid lake as it stretched its limbs.
Over time Hermione noticed Harry furtively rubbing his nose and sniffing a little more than before.
"You have to sneeze, don't you?" she said rhetorically.
"No," Harry hastened to deny, scrunching his nose a little at the same time.
"Oh, go on, just sneeze if you have to, Harry. What could possibly happen out here?" she said a little exasperated.
Harry looked at her with slightly teary eyes, obviously fighting off a tickle. "What if I blow up the Giant Squid or something," he said darkly, slightly muffled as he rubbed his nose again.
"Madam Pomfrey will put it back together," said Hermione, rolling her eyes. "I doubt anything like that would happen anyway. Dumbledore would never let you walk around the school like this if you were a danger to anyone, even the giant squid."
Harry grunted at this, just as his breath started hitching a little. "I think... we're going to... find out... shortly," he said breathlessly, bringing his hands up to his face, a pre-sneezy expression settling on his features. His eyelashes fluttered shut. "Ahh... ahhKISHoo!" he sneezed, his head bobbing forward. "ahh... oh, ahh... again... aahhhCSHH!"
Hermione in the meantime watched wide-eyed around her, as at Harry's first sneeze every single tree in their vicinity suddenly erupted in colour when, with a string of little 'pops', Christmas ornaments appeared to adorn their branches, streamers wrapped themselves around the bark and even little lights settled themselves between the needles. In a single second their little spot at the lake had transformed from a drab and barren little seclusion to a festive, cosy explosion of light and colour, reminiscent of the common room at Christmas eve. When Harry had sneezed the second time, dozens of presents in multi-coloured wrappings had popped up from thin air to join the ornamented trees, lying stacked at their bases, big silver and gold bows adorning every gift-wrapped box.
"Oh my," Hemione voiced, eyes wide as she took in the scenery. "Bless you, Harry."
"Thags." Harry still had his hands in front of his face and hadn't opened his eyes yet. "I thig I sdill deed to sduhh... sdeeze though..."
Hermione paid little attention to him, instead riveting on what his sneezes had accomplished. For once she was completely speechless.
"Ahh- hahhEKSHOO!" Harry sneezed a final time, pulling out his handkerchief afterwards and discreetly blowing his noose to clear it from some of his congestion. He gradually became aware of a soft fizzing sound that surrounded the two of them, just as Hermione gasped beside him.
"Harry!" Hermione squeaked, finding her voice again and elbowing his side. "Look what you did!"
Harry looked up with trepidation, wondering how many bits he'd find the Squid in and if he'd be let off from detention before the summer holidays started. Instead of calamaris, however, he stared with big eyes at the fact that it was actually *snowing*. And certainly not in any normal sort of fashion. In fact, it was only snowing in a fifty foot radius, right over where he and Hermione were sitting, covering the ground in a blanket of white. Thick fluffy snowflakes dwindled down to rest on the trees - trees which were shining and sparkling like any wizard Christmas tree, branches laden with every sort of colourful ornament imaginable - and coating the presents at their trunk. The soft sizzling he'd noticed was caused as the snow came into contact with the warming spell Harry had cast on their little spot, and the flakes evaporated instantly just above their heads, leaving them still dry and warm.
Hermione swallowed thickly next to him. "Wow, Harry, that was really something. You must really like Christmas." Her voice sounded distinctly awed and charmed.
"Um," Harry said eloquently, ogling his creation.
Hermione smiled radiantly at him. "See, not only bad things come from your cold. There's balance to everything. This is just beautiful!" She threw back her head and laughed with amazement.
Harry couldn't help but grin a little at her wonderment, though he did feel himself going pink with embarrassment.
They sat there for a long time, as the sky grew darker and stars appeared over the lake, happily watching the trees glow with twinkling lights and reflecting brightly on the whiteness of the snow. They tried several of the presents to find out - though not really to their disappointment - that they were all empty inside.
Harry only sneezed once more, and merely caused a few startled dear to suddenly pop into existence at the forest edge, making Hermione again giggle in delight, so he didn't mind as much about it any more.
Heavy footfalls warned them to the coming presence of someone, and they turned around to see Hagrid goggle at the snow, trees and presents with a puzzled look of astonishment on his face. On noticing Harry and Hermione he trudged up to them, his boots crunching in the snow.
"I noticed the lights from meh cabin. What have yeh two bin up ter, then? Did yeh do all this?" he asked, indicating the scenery around him, his normal gruff voice sounding somewhat awed.
"Well," Hermione said.
"Er," said Harry.
"It's hard to explain," offered Hermione, grinning widely.
"Well, whatever it is," Hagrid said, "Yeh two better get back into the castle b'fore a teacher comes ter get yeh. Students ought to be inner common room by now, yeh know."
Harry and Hermione stood up, shivering as they exited the warming spell, but trudging happily through the snow nonetheless.
"Off with yeh then," Hagrid told them. "And come by tomorrow for tea, mind, ter tell me what happened here."
They promised, and with a "bye, Hagrid" hurried up to the castle, shooting last furtive glances at Harry's creation, feeling rather sorry they had to leave it behind. Even though it was only October, Christmas just made you feel good no matter what season it was.
When they entered the common room through the portrait hole they found Ron waiting for them. He wasn't angry anymore about what Harry had done - "It wasn't as if you did it on purpose, Harry... did you?" - but he did swear the two of them to secrecy ("If Fred and George were ever to find out, my life as we know it would be over."). Of course Harry hastened to agree, willing to do anything to make up for what he'd accidentally done.
Ron had saved them seats in front of the fireplace, and surrounding themselves with their homework they settled into the big comfy armchairs, basking in the warm glow of the merrily cracking fire. Harry had a hard time concentrating on his Transfiguration homework, however. All the sneezing and stress and magic he'd done all day had wore him straight out, and it wasn't long until he started to nod off, dozing curled in the chair, cheek resting on his shoulder, homework forgotten on his lap.
Hermione and Ron must have thought he needed the sleep - or thought this was a good way to keep him from sneezing - else Hermione would never have allowed him to sleep without finishing his homework. It wasn't until most students were going up to bed that Ron gently shook Harry's shoulder to wake him up.
He blinked sleepily up at Ron. "Hmm whah?"
"Time to go to bed Harry," Ron said, pulling the book from his lap and stuffing it in his bag for him. He pulled Harry's arm as Harry put his head down to go back to sleep, feeling quite content and much too sleepy where he was right then. "Come on, Harry, you can go to sleep again upstairs. You'll thank me in the morning."
"'Kay," murmured Harry, standing a little unsteadily and weaving his way up to the boy's dormitory. He thought he heard Hermione and Ron chuckle together behind him, but surely they wouldn't laugh at him, would they?
After finding the way to his bed he changed clumsily into his pyjamas and settled under the blankets, feeling ready to drop right off. He distantly listened to Ron coming in. All the other boys were already in bed, so after Ron finished getting ready the last of the light was extinguished, plunging the room in darkness.
Harry started drifting off when a little irritating tickle made him turn his face into his pillow and sneeze a sleepy "aahhIshoo" in the cloth.
The room remained silent for a minute, then two. Harry's breathing evened out as he fell in a deep sleep.
Finally, Neville piped up: "Shouldn't we see what Harry did this time?"
"No!" said Dean, Seamus and Ron simultaneously, burying their heads under their pillows. "Goodnight."
The End
In no way am I trying to infringe on the rights of J.K. Rowling or her publishers. I'm making no money out of this.