George Waterford did not love abandoning Christmas dinner before dessert, but she did love knowing that at least for a blissful half hour—possibly a full hour, if the boys ate enough—she would have the dormitory to herself. The Ravenclaw Tower was vacant upon the sixth year's return, as expected: it had largely emptied for the winter holidays, and those students who did remain were well tucked into dinner.

Unhurriedly, she made her way to the dormitory she called home before deftly stripping off her shirt, revealing the bandaging she used to disguise her (blissfully small) breasts from the general public. She sat on her bed for a long moment, relishing the freedom she was not typically afforded (she had not dared be in any true state of undress since her body had begun to mature in a more feminine direction in her fourth year).

This was short lived, and she had time only to clutch the shirt awkwardly against her torso as the door was opened.