The freezing air bit Hermione’s vulnerable skin as the strong wind made her hair fly furiously around her young face. Nevertheless, she was happy. Thousands of snowflakes were falling from the dark sky, a rain of specks coming from heavens. Hundreds of ageless stars were watching over the earth, peppering the night with their brightness like lanterns in a sleeping city. She could see Centaurus and Hercules, legendary heroes living adventures far away from the realm of human beings. They were memories of those evenings she had spent with Grandpa, watching the sky and drinking hot chocolate while savouring the silence of the french mountains. It was marvellous, the beauty of the late hours where sleep would take most people except those too curious to be driven away into unconsciousness.
The meadow was slowly being covered by a white coat. The snow was still unscathed but it would soon be destroyed by dozens of children eager to slide down the hills. Trees were rocking their branches lazily. A soft murmur was coming from the forest’s leaves. It was comforting to know life could go on its own in the immensity that is an ocean of trees — and slightly terrifying. What wonders were waiting for her behind the line of oaks guarding the land no human should ever visit? What magical creatures inhabited this land? She’ll bring Harry and Ron next year. No doubt they’ll end up fighting a troll or a giant spider.
A wolf howled. A bird — was it an owl? — took off. Hermione breathed deeply. The air was so pure here. A shiver shook her body. Snowflakes had infiltrated the inside of her coat and cold water was now running down her spine. She was in another world. She was Alice in Wonderland and Peter Pan and Bilbo in Middle Earth and Lucy discovering Narnia.
‘Hermione!’ Her mother’s voice shattered the illusion and reality took its rights back. It was like when you have been brutally woken up from a dream and the world around you doesn’t quite make sense yet. Everything felt odd and out of place. With a sight, Hermione turned away from liberty.
‘I’m coming,’ she replied. With a last longing look to the forest that spread behind the meadow, Hermione headed toward the warm cottage where The Standard Book of Spells was waiting for her.