Entering November, the weather turned bitterly cold.
Every morning, looking out through the frost-covered windows upstairs, one could see Hagrid wrapped from head to toe in his moleskin coat, holding a large broom as he swept the snow off the Quidditch pitch to prepare for the upcoming match.
"Albert, do you think we can beat the Slytherin team today?" Fred asked anxiously, just as he poked his head out of his sweater.
Chapter 334