Blood Stained Snow
Harry sat near his dormitory window, on top of a cushioned seat, watching the snow drift down, down, down to the already snow blanketed ground far below, illuminated by the light of the moon. In the spring, he supposed, that you could probably see the lake monster from the window, although he had no evidence to prove it. It was his first year, after all.
He could ask some of the older students. Yes, he decided, he’d do that in the morning, at breakfast. He hoped the answer was yes. He’d always been a fan of sea monsters and things similar to that.
He couldn’t sleep in his bed, plagued by nightmares of a green light and screaming. He liked the window, though. It was lovely, with a nice view of the lake. It always helped him calm down enough to sleep, whenever the nightmares got bad enough to where he had to sleep by the windows.
He had nearly closed his eyes, preparing to try to sleep again, when he caught a glimpse of something, someone, trekking through the snow blanketing the ground. The person was wearing a dark cloak. He watched for a minute, as they walked, his muddled brain dimly wondering why someone was up at this hour, and wandering around outside, in the cold, much less.
And if they were going to be up, walking around outside, why wouldn’t they try to disguise themselves? They could have worn a white cloak to blend in with the snow. Or at least a cloak that didn’t contrast quite as sharply.
Another person appeared, walking towards the first person, wearing a similarly coloured cloak. Harry nearly laughed, this was ridiculous. He must already be asleep, there was no way that two people were unstable, a word which here means clearly lacking the mental stability to make logical decisions that wouldn’t get them tangled up in what must have been important business.
Harry knew that he would only walk around in the winter air if it was for something quite important. But, he wondered, what was important enough to get these two people to walk around in the dark and the cold.
The two figures both stopped, only a few metres away from each other. Harry sat, safe in the comfort of his dormitory, silently observing the two people as they spoke, neither moving from their positions. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, something that he couldn’t quite explain. He didn’t know how, but he knew that something bad was going to happen.
The second person that had arrived turned to leave, likely intending on walking back the way he had come from, but before he could take a step, the other one raised their arm up, pointing at them. A loud sound, one that reminded Harry of fireworks, but with none of the beauty that came with fireworks, only a cold sense of dread, echoed through the night.
The one who had tried to leave fell to the ground, as the snow around them slowly turned red. Harry sat frozen in shock as the other person walked past the person collapsed on the ground, away from the school’s main entrance. He jumped up, running over to his trunk. He dug through it as quietly as possible before he found a silvery coloured cloak, which he put on, so it covered his head, and kept him hidden.
He tugged on a pair of boots, tying the laces as quickly as he could. He grabbed a piece of paper, and scribbled a note to Ron, leaving it under his pillow. He looked around the room, making a last second check for anything else he needed to bring with him. He caught a glimpse of his wand by the windowsill, and picked it up.
He left the room, careful not to disturb anyone else in the dormitory, practically running down the stairs, past the crackling fireplace in the common room, and out through the portrait hole. He sprinted through the hallways, the invisibility cloak barely covering him. He reached the front door of the school, and with barely a moment’s hesitation, opened it, and walked into the night.
The cold was a knife, digging deeper and deeper into him as he forged ahead, until he felt that he hardly had any choice but to turn back, and retreat back into the warmth of the school, and wrap himself in blankets. But remembering the person collapsed on the ground, he forced himself to keep going, telling himself that the person probably had a family, who would certainly miss them if Harry let them die.
“Lumos.” He said softly, not wanting to be heard by a professor and dragged back to his dormitory, or worse, to an office, where he’d be lectured, and surely given detention. The tip of his wand lit up, a soft golden glow emanating from it. He walked out towards the lake, over to where he had seen the man fall, his wand lighting the way.
Harry took his glasses off for a second, wiping the snow off the lenses, and brushed the snow out of his hair, shivering in the cold. He wrapped the thin cloak tighter around himself, and wished that he’d thought to grab another cloak, one that’s purpose was actually for keeping someone warm.
He noticed as he walked that in the golden light of his wand, the snow was glistening, almost appearing gilded. He sighed. This would actually be rather nice, if not for the reason he was here. He looked over at the lake, and saw a tree, which he recognized. He was getting close to where he’d watched the man fall.
He saw a dim light in front of him, and ran towards it, the snow crunching beneath his feet. Harry reached the source of the light. A wand, and near it was the collapsed man, who he now recognized as Professor Quirrel. As he approached, he realized that the professor’s eyes were open, staring up at the stars. He was surely dead.
Harry knelt by him, taking the invisibility cloak off. He folded it, and tucked it in his pocket. He reached out to the professor's wrist, and tried to find a pulse, but there was no sign of one. Harry noticed a piece of paper in his hand, and gently pried his fingers open, seeing a ten pound note.
“Thank you for your information,” Harry read aloud, stumbling over some of the words, his voice and hands shaky from the cold, “As promised, here is your payment.”
Harry was dimly aware of the fact that his hands were stained red with blood that didn’t belong to him. He stood up, and trudged away, the ten pound note drifting to the ground.
And in the morning, when they discovered the professor’s nearly frozen body, they didn’t notice the bloodstained ten pound note, which was hidden by a fresh layer of powdery snow.