discontinued, re-write titled "Mind Over Matter".
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❞𝐘𝐨𝐮❜𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞. . .❞
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Liliana Granger never sought out the adventures of life, she'd grown comfortable in what she knew and applied...
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"Sorry, you - uh, you had a bit of butterbeer right there."
(A/N): This chapter is based off the yule ball revised *previous chapter* so if you've not read the changes (mainly the christmas gifts, ron and hermione argument, out in the gardens, and closing dance), I'd encourage you to at least read over those few parts :)
Everybody got up late on Boxing Day. The Gryffindor common room was much quieter than it had been lately, many yawns punctuating the lazy conversations. Hermione's hair was bushy again; she confessed to the boys (all except Ron) that she had used liberal amounts of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion on it for the ball, "but it's way too much bother to do every day," she stated matter-of-factly, scratching a purring Crookshanks behind the ears.
Ron and Hermione seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement not to discuss their argument. They were being quite friendly to each other, though oddly formal, and it was possibly these interactions of "Oh, hello, Hermione," and "Lovely weather, isn't it, Ron?" that had Liliana snorting into her pumpkin juice.
Liliana had wasted no time in telling Hermione about what Harry, Ben, and Ron had told her and Atlas about the conversation between Madame Maxime and Hagrid the night of the Yule Ball, although, the following morning Ron and Harry did explain further; they knew more details, but Hermione didn't seem to find the news that Hagrid was a half-giant nearly as shocking as Ron and Ben had.
"Well, I thought he must be," she said, shrugging. "I knew he couldn't be pure giant because they're about twenty feet tall. But honestly, all this hysteria about giants. They can't all be horrible. . . . It's the same sort of prejudice that people have toward werewolves. . . . It's just bigotry, isn't it?"
Ron looked as though he would have liked to reply scathingly, but perhaps he didn't want another row, because he contented himself with shaking his head disbelievingly while Hermione wasn't looking. Liliana, however, was; a nice slap on the arm was earned.
It was time now to think of the homework they had neglected during the first week of the holidays. Everybody seemed to be feeling rather flat now that Christmas was over - everybody except Harry, that is, who was starting (once again) to feel slightly nervous.
The trouble was that February the twenty-fourth looked a lot closer from this side of Christmas, and he still hadn't done anything about working out the clue inside the golden egg. He therefore started taking the egg out of his trunk every time he went up to the dormitory, opening it, and listening intently, hoping that this time it would make some sense. He strained to think what the sound reminded him of, apart from thirty musical saws, but he had never heard anything else like it. He closed the egg, shook it vigorously, and opened it again to see if the sound had changed, but it hadn't. He tried asking the egg questions, shouting over all the wailing, but nothing happened. He even threw the egg across the room - though he hadn't really expected that to help.
