An active, character-driven Hogwarts experience set in the early 2000s. Unique items, plots, and features. Non-canon; this isn't Harry Potter's story, it's ours.
Coat pulled tight around his shoulders, Tom trekked out from the castle to the forest path. He'd skipped breakfast as the morning cold made it difficult for him to get out of bed on time, but he'd managed to scrounge up a bit of motivation. Part of him was beginning to rethink his choices, but his desire to become the world's best potions master outweighed his discomfort.
Armed with the force of his will and an empty jar, Tom sought out honey. Once he had some he'd be able to brew himself a batch of pumpkin juice. His eyes scanned the trees, looking for a beehive that wasn't too high up. He wasn't exactly sure how he'd climb in the cold, but he'd figure it out. He was determined.
The hive proved hard to find, as visually it blended in far too well -- but there was a buzzing that proved easier to follow despite the snowy morning.
The hive wasn't too far up a nearby tree, though just a little out of his reach without some need of climbing or a stepstool at least. It was capped with snow, though wasn't very active. He'd be able to fill two jars of honey from it, as long as he was careful; the bees may not be as inactive as they seemed.
Tom followed his ears to the buzzing of the hive, frustrated but not deterred to see the hive just a bit out of reach. He would need to climb a bit up the tree or find something to stand on- a hard order out here in the forest. Instead he donned his gardening gloves to help with warmth and grip and looked for a sturdy branch, beginning his ascent to harvest the last ingredient he needed to brew his pumpkin juice.
He hoped no one came down the path to observe him, as he was sure he made quite a site. Embracing the trunk of the tree in a giant bear hug, he wrapped his arms and legs around it and shimmied himself up towards the branch with the beehive. It was excruciating work as the cold bit at his fingers and he had to move slowly, the fear of bee stings outweighing his fear of frostbite.
In the end it took Tom about 15 minutes to harvest two jars worth of honey, moving with a methodical slowness that ached his muscles and tired his body, but was worth it for not getting stung. Climbing down was just as involved a task as getting up, and by the time his feet were firmly on the ground again he was relieved. He now had everything he needed to brew himself a batch of pumpkin juice.
His excitement warmed his body and he ran back to the castle with a huge smile on his face.