C H A P T E R T W E L V E
THE MIRROR OF ERISED
C
hristmas was coming. 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 be-
witching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around,
bouncing off the back of his 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 Gryf-
findor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the
drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the
windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape’s
classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist
before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot caul-
drons.
“I do feel so sorry,” said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, “for all
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