"Prince! Come and build a snowman with us!" George and Fred crowded over with enthusiasm. Ever since they'd shared with Ian about spotting something disguised as Ian during their nighttime escapade a few days ago, they'd quickly become chummy—completely oblivious to Ian's face going pale as he'd stood close to Michael back then.
"You call that a snowman?"
Michael was utterly stunned as he stared at the "snowman" built by the twin brothers.
"I feel like my mind's been polluted."
William clutched his head with an indescribable expression.
"This is art! You guys don't understand!"
One of the twins announced with smug satisfaction.
The other twin piped up immediately, "Exactly, avant-garde art! Just look at those five heads, and over ten legs. Aren't those lines just elegant?"
What a mental contaminant of an artwork introduction.
William and Michael shivered—it wasn't just the weather. They could feel the upper-year Gryffindor twins' mental… uniqueness.
"Will we end up like this, too, once we've studied enough magic?" They exchanged worried glances, each feeling uneasy.
Unlike his two roommates who just didn't appreciate "art," Ian was different. He gave the twins a thumbs-up, showing he genuinely approved of their snowman.
"You're absolutely right! This is art! But I bet—you two didn't come up with it yourselves!" Ian's tone was dead serious as he stared at the suspiciously familiar "snowman" sculpture.
The twins were taken aback by his words.
"Oh no, he's caught us plagiarizing! He's probably seen that centaur specimen the Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts keeps in his office too!" George looked at Fred, putting on a deliberately dramatic tone. Fred instantly clutched his cheeks and shouted out loud in mock panic.
"Well, then let's add five more misshapen heads! Twenty legs! And put twenty eyes on every leg!" George slapped his thigh and dove right into the next round of 'creation.'
"George! Since it has so many legs already, why don't we give it a few more willies?" Fred, as he helped 'upgrade' the snowman, didn't forget to give Ian a running commentary.
"The Professor's collection is what you get when a centaur gets too big for its boots and fails at attempting Animagus transformation. Ours is the real deal—the ultimate centaur!"
He boldly tried to rope Ian into this absolutely meaningful plan.
"…"
From the twins, Ian finally found out where his "masterpiece" had ended up. He considered himself pretty avant-garde, but these twins were clearly a whole new level of weird.
"Such a magnificent project really needs you two to make it yourselves! I'm not worthy!" Ian realized his mental stability was much sounder than the twins'.
Is this the price of getting caught by Filch during a nighttime roam?
Hogwarts urban legends or what!
He grabbed his two roommates and made a swift getaway.
Actually, Ian wasn't the only one building snowmen like the twins were; plenty of little wizards were at it too. Most of them were little witches, and their snowmen were way more pleasant to look at than the twins' abominations.
Most were fantastic beasts—super giant Nifflers, enormous Scottish round-faced fat chickens—Ian even spotted a huge toad in the row of snowmen.
"Should we build a giant fire dragon?" William, yet again, revealed his obsession with dragons. His eager look even got Michael a bit tempted.
"Weren't you two going to help me cut down trees?"
Ian asked in surprise.
The two loyal buddies hurriedly tore their eyes away, though clearly reluctant.
"Don't worry, Ian. We'd never betray you," William said, dragging Michael—whose gaze had strayed toward a certain little black-haired witch—along as they followed Ian toward the woods.
This was an easy task straight from the Head of Ravenclaw House: if Ian could find some suitable Christmas trees for the Great Hall, Ravenclaw College would get twenty points—and he'd get a public shout-out.
To be honest,
Ian didn't much care about the extra points. After all, this year Ravenclaw was already way ahead, thanks to everyone's hard work.
Who cares if they lose Quidditch anyway.
"I just love helping professors out, that's all!"
Ian and his two roommates strolled past the Black Lake.
The heavy snowfall had frozen the Black Lake with a thick sheet of ice. A group of Hufflepuff little wizards were crowded near the shore, marveling at the sight of little fish frozen as they leapt up from the water.
"Look—those fish's heads poking out, all frozen solid!"
"Wow, amazing. I'll bet this is what inspired stargazy pie!"
"Now you mention it, I just want to take a bite of those fish heads."
…
That's just so typical of Hufflepuff's little wizards—always talking about food, or talking about food on the way to food—and nearby, a bunch of students were in an all-out snowball fight.
It was genuine warfare between Gryffindor and Slytherin students.
"Hiss—they're putting rocks in the snowballs!?" Michael shivered in the cold. He snatched William's knitted hat—complete with built-in, infamously slow-selling heated underpants lining—right off William's nicely flushed head for himself.
"See? Gryffindor students are the *real* warriors." Ian's eyes were sharper than Michael's. He noticed that while Slytherins were sneaking rocks into their snowballs, a few Gryffindors were smearing shit on theirs—steaming, fresh stuff clearly enchanted on the spot for maximum effect as 'ammunition.'"