Spring was springing as February gave way to March. The birds were singing, the trees were blossoming and Headmaster Winterbottom was in a particularly chipper mood as he whistled his way down to the lake’s edge for his usual morning stroll.

Time had not been kind on the old man’s knees as they creaked and groaned while navigating the few steps onto the pebbled foreshore. The winter months in the harsh Scottish wilderness hadn’t been pleasant for his exercise but with the turning of the new leaf came the ideal opportunity to get himself back out there again. Besides, the voice of his dearly departed wife still rang in his ears nagging him to look after himself and he ALWAYS did as his wife told him.

Once he found the perfect spot to perch his (Winter)bottom on, he withdrew the small lunchbox that had been meticulously packed by Pips the House Elf from his extension charmed pocket and tucked into a jam sandwich.