Lost in translation.

Snow fell with arrogant abundance. It was as if it had remembered how, just a week ago, the inhabitants of this world had nothing good to say about it. Almost everyone who claimed they knew snow hated it. It was the groaning and moaning done throughout the land that must have reached the ears of something that had eagerly awaited his chance for the rest of the past year. Yet, even as the snowy vengeance was unleashed on the land, it did not seem to bother anyone at all. No one at the courtyard seemed bothered, at least. It was almost as if you could ignore the scarves, the coats, the gloves, and the white manna, and frame it beside a happy summer's day. Of course you could not fool anyone with the similarities; or rather, the lack thereof. Yet, sometimes, even illusions did not need to be given. A lie that was bought, even knowingly, could be believed. Anything could be believed. You just needed to have decided to, or not to.

Alaric turned away from the warmth of the scene. He didn't believe in it. It wasn't enough. He had watched the boys bump their way through a group of unsuspecting First Years foolishly attempting a game of Gobstones. There was no malice in it at all, no. It was just supposed to be funny, being funny with First Years for their lack of comprehension of sarcastic teasing. You couldn't blame them either. This was a group of First Years who craved very much the attention of the Upper Years, who in turn were opportunists for any instance to prove their superiority of years. It was all a meaningless game of approval and power play, albeit harmless, that Alaric really could not bring himself to be interested in.

At this point, he didn't know how he had managed the unspoken love-hate relationship he had with the other boys. It was possible that they hadn't yet figured out for themselves that he really did not belong. Yet, as Alaric would have it, they were all deceived about his enthusiasm to be part of the gang. He was always going to try, though, wasn't he? It didn't matter whether he liked them, and it didn't matter whether he liked what he was doing. All that mattered was that he tried to be part of the scene, part of their world. It was the world he was offered involuntarily by the universe. He was going to have to take it, just, because. Really, though, he barely had objections to it. It wasn't that he was unhappy. He just felt ...

Old. He felt old. Alaric watched the boys; and in that moment, he couldn't comprehend them. He felt sure they couldn't understand him either. Yet, it didn't matter. Why should he? And why should they? He couldn't help being a spectator almost every time. That was not what he was taught to be. He was a Krum, for Krum's sake. His father had wanted him to be a do-er. Mother, too, had told him not to let anything or anyone stop him. Yet, sometimes, he couldn't do it. He just didn't buy it all. Yet, it was as if he was plugged into all of these. And the only form of motion was forward. He couldn't stop it. But did he have a choice? His body was always a participant, but no one could plug or unplug his mind. It was lost in translation.

The moment Alice heard a rampage of girls come into her room with the usual screaming giggles that followed them with every step they took, she knew she had to leave as soon as possible. She had never considered herself an anti-social person, quite oppositely in fact. Alice could be cheerful and quite childish at times. But her roommate was bordering on the line of insanity.

It was almost a routine these days and not just an occasional teenage whim. Every day after lunch, her thirteen year old roommate would bring along a group of girls back to their room. Alice didn't mind company, but these girls were the loudest bunch of thirteen year olds she had ever met. After a stressful day such as this one, Alice was horribly low on her patience. So instead of getting a tantrum attack and possibly another detention, she decided just to leave the room right away. That was probably the best decision she could make.

She stepped out to the Hogwarts grounds and regretted leaving her room in such a rush in the first place. Not only was it freezing out side, but she had also managed to forget her yellow Hufflepuff mittens. Hopefully, she could survive a few minutes out in the cold to cool her head off. Sitting down on an empty bench, Alice rubbed her blushed hands against each other in a quick manner, trying to generate some heat. Her thoughts quickly wandered off from her troubles to enjoying the scenery. Lately even relaxing was hard to do. Any thoughts of her family and school work made her wince in frustration. Tranquility was not a common state for her, so she decided to enjoy it just a bit more, even though she was freezing.

Her gaze wandered across the courtyard as she observed the students around her. Most were kids quite younger than her, the ones that still haven't gotten bored of the winter wonders Hogwarts had to offer. When you come to your fourth year like Alice was, you start to dread the coming of snow. Where just a few years ago it was your favorite part of the season. Funny how people grew up just to become a more serious and boring version of themselves. Her eyes set on a familiar face in the crowd. She immediately recognized the black and golden scarf around his neck and put the unknown boy down as a Hufflepuff. Looking a bit further, she realized it was Alaric Krum, someone she knew from reputation only but never actually met him in person. Since he seemed a bit separated from the rest of his group, Alice decided to say hi. "Quite sad how we stop enjoying Christmas and the snow after a while, don't you think?" Alice said thinking out loud.

Alaric watched people, but didn't really see them. He could pride himself on how much he had learnt by just being a spectator to the lives of others. But, really, he didn't learn much. It wasn't so much a fault as it was a shortcoming. For now, at least, one could put the blame on his youth. Sure, age can never be the determiner of wisdom; but for this guy, it sure is. He was, in truth, still young, naive, and idealistic. The world, despite the storms he had had to endure in his short fifteen years of living, had yet to break him. Perhaps, though, he was different from the other boys he found company with, simply by a more acute sense to establish himself. After all, wasn't this what most teenagers wanted? No, one couldn't be part of the crowd even when one had to be part of a crowd. One must be different because one is so very different from the masses. And everyone in the masses thought that. And so this mass of individuals stick together even as they try to pull from the common core. This was Alaric.

Just as he was going to shift himself a little further away from the noise of courtyard, a voice interrupted his rather stagnant thought bubbles. Surprised, more because he was actually noticed than by the fact that he was being spoken to, Alaric turned swiftly to find himself being spoken to by Alice Longbottom. There was another moment of heightened frenzy as voices were raised where the bulk of the crowd was at. Alaric blocked them out. With that level of excitement filling up the area, no one was bothered with any instance of anomalies. It didn't matter. Alaric could do without the attention for now. Happy to take a breather, or what felt like it, he smiled at the girl.

"Someone didn't enjoy her Christmas holidays?" He couldn't sympathise with that. After all, being his mother's baby, he was always ensured a pretty pleasant return home for Christmas. Yes, even without his father. The family sheltered him from the brunt of the tragedy. It wasn't that he asked to be sheltered. He wasn't given a choice to decide if he wanted to be. Soon enough, and perhaps sooner than thought, he would pick up the frustration of having everything decided for him simply because he would not be deemed old enough to be wise with his own decisions. Being Alaric, though, he would try to understand Alice's displeasure about Christmas.

Fortunately, the boy was more reserved about his feelings towards snow. It wasn't something he particularly enjoyed; and even having grown up with so much of it doesn't make the fact of having it any more pleasant. Alaric nodded. "I remember when I use to run out of the house to make for a handful of snow in my hand, and then dropping it quickly when it started to bite into my skin. Yet, I'd keep doing it again and again." Alaric smiled at the memory; because that is what you do; you smile at memories. "I was really good at making things with snow too!" He boasted at the sudden reminder of it. "That's probably what you get when you grow up with people who said they were too old to have a snowball fight with you," he continued. "You just sit there and start building things with snow until your mother calls you back into the house for being silly with snow."

Then, as if realising that he was doing too much of the talking bit, Alaric nodded towards Alice. "How were the holidays for you then?"