In Harry's defense, some of the greatest artists were also scientists. Da Vinci. Michelangelo. Probably some others. Therefore, it was perfectly reasonable that he, a man of science, might have some latent artistic ability that had not, to this point in his life, revealed itself. And anyway, how hard could making a snow sculpture really be?

Very hard, apparently, because his snowman was looking decidedly more like a very small, but somehow hideous, snow drift. Could snow drifts even be beautiful or hideous? He hadn't thought so before today.

Turning at the sound of someone's voice, Harry was surprised by the man's praise--and the apparent sincerity of it. Well. "Oh. Thank you. You're too kind." He looked at his snowman. Was it just him, or was it leaning ominously to one side?

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